#massive fluff

[shorthairchris]

Guys he’s so boyfriend and he doesn’t even know it 💔💔💔 actually hurts my heart he’s so pookie

[shouyuus]

colorimetery

kuroo; 1,843 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", abuse of extended metaphors, none of this makes sense, kenma is the most in-touch person in this entire fic and that should tell you something, awk!kuroo, whipped!kuroo

summary: in which kuroo is down bad for you and nothing much else happens

a/n: @seiwas this is for u! u asked for kuroo and i humbly deliver :) hope u liked it bby; fun fact, a lot of these colors are pulled from the gamblin oil paints website bc i love their paints and also i love the thought that a lot of pigments were poisonous way back when and ppl were just... casually poisoning themselves while making their art; there's a metaphor in there somewhere... but i'll leave that up to interpretation lol

─── 鉄朗 THERE ARE COLORS he doesn’t know the names for, just like there are birds who will sing songs that no human will ever understand, but somewhere between the viridian of a sun-lit forest and the minor trill of a mockingbird’s call, he finds the shape of you.

and he doesn’t remember exactly when he’d started feeling like this, only that he’d woken up one day to a pastel sky, heard the tell-tale blip of a message from you, and felt his entire body flush vermillion, hard enough to poison.

c’mon, bedhead. time for school.

he grins down at the message, his lips pulling wide, his fingers still blunted by his honeyed dreams (how many of you? don’t ask him — he’s long since lost count) as he types out a reply.

be there in three.

he stumbles out of bed in the raw sienna sunrise, pulling on his uniform pants, shoving the hems of his un-ironed white shirt into the waistband before dashing out the door. he finds you haloed in liquid gold, standing on his doorstep, flicking through your phone before you notice him and your face breaks into an earth-rending smile.

kuroo feels dizzy, punchdrunk, a sake-shot of fire sizzling down his front till it pools in the base of his belly as he pulls on his shoes and tries to hide behind a well-timed cough.

“c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he brushes passed you, but not before reaching out to ruffle at your hair, savoring in the midnight-soft of your tresses as it slips through his fingers.

you bicker the entire way to school, picking up kenma somewhere along the way. he casts you both a tired, reproachful look before slouching off ahead of you, content to resume whatever game he’s currently hyperfixating on while you and kuroo snipe at each other a few steps behind him.

“you could just ask her out,” kenma says during free period, his eyes never leaving his phone screen as he mashes at the attack button, watching the health bar of the boss monster dwindle even as kuroo makes an indignant sort of choking noise.

“w-what? she’s just — she’s just a friend.”

but at the scathing look kenma darts his way, kuroo finally relents.

“i — we’ve been friends for so long i just… i don’t wanna fuck it up, y’know?” he cards a hand through his already mussed up hair, eliciting a string of giggles from a cluster of girls sitting behind them, heads bent in towards one another, their long hair swishing like willow branches in a mid-autumn breeze; but neither of them take notice.

kenma heaves a world-weary sigh, grimacing as a large WIN!! image flashes across the face of his phone and he slumps back to frown at kuroo.

“i feel like you’ve built up enough affection points to unlock whatever good ending she’s got for you by now, so,” he pins kuroo with a pointed look, “i don’t think she’s gonna say no.”

kuroo can only blink, his mind churning around this strange yet apt analogy.

“aw man, you’re the best, y’know that?” he laughs, reaching over to catch kenma in a headlock, digging his knuckles into the crown of kenma’s head even as he struggles fruitlessly to get free.

it is in the cadium orange glow of sunset, after your art class and his volleyball practice, that kuroo finally works up the courage —

“hey uh — can i ask you something?”

you hike an eyebrow, a dangerous grin sharpening the shape of your lips.

“didn’t you just?”

kuroo lets out a frustrated sigh, “fuck you, you know what i meant.”

you laugh, the timber of it ringing through him like church bells on a sunday morning, and suddenly, he wonders if this feeling might be what inspired the ancients to worship at the feet of so much divinity — just this, the giddiness and anticipation, the knowledge and uncertainty. this, the insurmountable weight of something (call it love or infatuation, he doesn’t care) pressing down on his chest hard enough to rob him of every last breath.

he think that perhaps this is all anyone’s ever needed to start believing in magic.

“okay, okay,” you say, stifling a grin behind pink-pursed lips, “what did you wanna ask?”

“go out with me,” kuroo blurts out, well before he can stop himself. and he almost wants to sink into the earth with the way his entire body goes hot, the aftermath of a tectonic shift, the pluming heat of a volcanic hiccup.

you stare up at him, your expression curiously blank as he watches you, desperate for any sign of your answer, the most minuscule tells of how you might be feeling.

finally, you cock your head and ask, “was… there a question in there somewhere?”

kuroo almost swears*. almost*.

“fuck — fine! i meant — will you —”

“yes.”

“— it’s just i’ve — wait, what?” kuroo freezes, staring down at you with slack-jawed disbelief, blinking as if he doesn’t quite understand what you’re saying.

you allow yourself a smile, and kuroo feels his insides melt to something very much like molten marshmallows.

you let out a sigh that sounds remarkably like kenma’s — exasperated and amused in equal measure — before glancing back up at him with a bashful smile.

internally, kuroo wonders if this is what being “k.o-ed” feels like and he resolves to be just a bit more merciful to all of videogame opponents.

“i said yes, you big volleyball-obsessed oaf —”

“oh,” kuroo says, still not quite sure what he’s supposed to do from here.

you roll your eyes and turn back towards the sidewalk, taking a few steps before twisting your head to look at him.

“aren’t you gonna walk me home?”

kuroo nearly trips in his eagerness to level himself with you, but once he does, he straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest.

“so —” he says, in a stab at his usual carefree bravado, “do i get to call you my girlfriend now?”

you shrug, “sure, if you want to.”

kuroo deflates ever so slightly, “what? you don’t want me to?”

you slant him a look that makes his knees turn to jelly.

“yeah, i do. but that won’t matter if you don’t, right?”

“i — i do!”

“so then…”

you turn your back on him again, though he’s sure this time he catches it — the dash of sweet magenta, swept across your lips like a kiss, or a promise.

or, the thought licks up the back of his throat, tantalizing — the promise of a kiss.

“oi.” he jogs to catch up with you, reaching out to sling an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to press his lips into the thick of your hair, breathing you in, losing himself in the familiar smell of your shampoo — green tea and apples, or something of the sort.

you laugh, and he basks in the sound.

by the time he walks you home, the street is gilded in goldenrod yellow, your shadows stretching long beneath you, the slant-wise light painting everything in an ethereal glow.

“well,” kuroo says, shoving his hands into his pockets, if only to keep them from fidgeting, because guys like him don’t get nervous. at least, not like this.

“well,” you echo, letting your voice linger over the ‘l’, letting it twist around your tongue, the sound lulling at the top of your palette till kuroo feels his stomach catch.

“see you tomorrow?” he asks, cursing himself internally for sounding so uncertain. since when has he been so uncertain?

your lips twist into a tease, just a fish-tail flicker, and kuroo knows he’s done for.

“do you wanna stay for dinner?” you ask, just as he opens his mouth.

“unless you don’t —” his voice jerks into an abortive breath.

somewhere behind him, a raven fluffs out it’s feathers on the low-cut wall that separates your house from the rest of the street. a single black feathers flutters to the ground, dark as an oil spill.

“unless i don’t what?” you ask.

kuroo swallows around his thundering heartbeat, feeling the last dregs of sunlight seep from the far horizon.

“i was gonna say… unless you — you didn’t wanna say goodbye,” he admits, his eyes flicking away from your face if only to give himself a momentary reprieve from the intensity of your gaze.

you purse your lips, shrugging up a shoulder, a single lock of hair slipping from its place behind your ear.

“i never do. c’mon — or else they’ll start eating without us.”

kuroo is speechless as he watches you make your way up the shallow steps to your door, glancing over your shoulder towards him. he doesn’t know how many times he’s stayed over for dinner, how many times he’d lingered in the perfumed warmth of your room while you showered, flipping absently through the latest volume of jump, how many times you’d fallen asleep with your damp hair slowly soaking into his school uniform.

he couldn’t count them all if he wanted to. and he doesn’t really want to.

he takes a breath and takes the front path two steps at a time, leaping up the staircase with a smirk as he skims his palm along the top of your head. you make a sound like an annoyed hamster and kuroo allows himself a laugh that bubbles up and up and up till it’s spilling over, till he pushes open your front door and is greeted with the familiar sandalwood radiance of your front hallway, the light pooling around his ankles as he toes off his shoes.

“hey,” you say, and he turns around, only to find you leaning up on tip toe to brush your lips against his.

he freezes, but you’re pulling back already, shrugging off your coat, shouldering off your school bag and shouting down the hallway to ask what’s for dinner, and to say that kuroo’s here.

kuroo finds himself caught in the sharp cerulean blue of your laughter like the rain-washed sky, the smoke-ridden darkness in the shades of your eyes, he turns to see you blushing, even as you motion for him to follow you into the dining room. he does, only tripping over himself once (though he’s been feeling wobbly since this afternoon, when he’d resolved to ask you out in the first place).

and he tells himself that, yes, there will always be colors he doesn’t know the names of, bird songs he will never be able to understand. but colors, he can learn. and as for the birds — well, he figures that they’re all probably singing about falling in love anyway.

TAGLIST: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @dira333 @stunies @phroggii @fennecnco @encrytpta @simpingdailyforthem @ryescapades -- join the taglist!

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

I cannot think of a title beyond "get kidnapped idiot" because my brain is not firing on all cylinders today. Anyway have a Tim!

Version without lighting underneath incase you want just a tied up n beat up Tim

[akagi0021]

fuck you (hualians ur kazuscara)

[pfhwrittes]

"you love him. you've loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later." TW: references to transphobic bullying, angst, fluff, allusions to offscreen smut, alcohol mention, menstruation mention. pairing: kyle x ftm!reader

1.5k words of childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers. as always i've barely edited it so typos and errors may remain. edit to add: a massive thank you and shout out to @gemmahale for cheerleading me with this one and reminding me to trust my instincts. i love you a lot.

-- you love him. you’ve loved him since he first shared his curly-wurly during break time at primary school. head over heels puppy love. your mum teasing you with a “my little girl with her first boyfriend!” despite the way it makes your cheeks burn (and something twist inside your chest) when you both stand shyly together at 3.15 hand in hand waiting to go home. 

you love kyle when he’s the joseph to your mary in the nativity. you love the way the teatowel your mum leant his mum slips into his eyes and causes him to laugh and forget his next line about needing to find an inn. you love him when he wraps you up in a big hug when missus king takes a photo of you both as your mum cheers the loudest from the back of the little crowd in the assembly hall. 

you love kyle even when you both grow up and go to secondary school at 11, split up into different form groups and different timetables. you love him even more when he folds you into his little band of miscreants, “one of the boys” he says with a cheeky grin that warms you all the way through.

you love kyle when he chooses you first for the biology practical lesson, flicking little slithers of onion at you to make you laugh, despite the way anna-marie looks you up and down and whispers something cruel about how “he just pities the he-she” loud enough for you to hear. 

you love kyle when he skives off school with you the day your period takes you unaware. he sneaks in through the kitchen door 15 minutes after your mum leaves for work, a battered curly-wurly and bottle of oasis clutched in one hand and his rucksack in the other. you love him when he settles onto the sofa, dragging your duvet over the two of you, flicking the telly on so you can both watch bargain hunt together. 

you love kyle the day he cuddles you into his chest, completely uncaring about the way your snot and tears mark his t-shirt as you sob, both of you curled up on your bed. you love him so completely when he listens to you stutter out that you think you’re not really a girl. you still love him when he pulls away for the first time, a tiny frown on his face. you still love him when he doesn’t reply to your text asking him if he got home alright later that night. 

you still love kyle when he starts ignoring you in school, no longer coming to find you during lunchtime. you still love him when he doesn’t laugh along with harry when you trip during design tech but he doesn’t stop james hissing “freak show” as you rub at your hip from where you banged into their table. 

you still love kyle even when your mum sits you down at the kitchen and asks you how you feel about moving schools at 16. you still love kyle when you ask her “but what about kyle?” and her voice catches when she offers you a gentle “oh love” with wet eyes. 

you still love kyle when he stumbles into you at mattie’s house party when you’re both 18, a shocked look on his face when he takes in your close cropped hair and wispy facial hair on your cheeks, despite the fact you haven’t spoken in years. you still love kyle even when he calls you the wrong name and your mumble gets swallowed up by cheers from the kitchen as someone spots kyle in the hallway. you still love kyle when you spot him crowd mattie’s older sister georgia up against the bannister and kiss her breathless before leading her up the stairs with his hand on her waist. you still love kyle when you end up sobbing into alex’s neck, their hand rubbing your back gently as the dew from the front lawn soaks the knees of your jeans. you still love kyle even as alex murmurs that “you should just forget him babe” into your hair as you sob anew.

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle the next time you run into him, many years later when you pop into the pub under oath from mattie to meet her for a quick pint to catch up. you recognise the shape of kyle’s smile even if he is partially turned away to grin at a man with broad shoulders and a slightly flattened mohawk standing next to him at the bar. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when he catches you looking and his smile slips momentarily as he offers you a tiny nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his friend. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle even when your eyes keep drifting over to him and the other three men in the corner booth as mattie fills you in on everything you missed during your years travelling around australia. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when you bump into him again in the same pub the following week. literally bumping into him as you turn away from the bar with a pint in your hand. kyle steadies you with a hand on your forearm and you feel your heart soar before plummeting into the sticky carpet at your feet. you pull your arm away from him and your drink sloshes over the rim of your glass as you offer him a tight smile before stepping to the side. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle, but you can’t help but feel the warmth of his hand long after you’ve rejoined mattie and alex at your table. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but a thrill goes up your spine when he asks you if he could “have a word with you, mate” as he joins you in the beer garden the week after that. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but your heart aches as he stumbles his way through an apology. you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he makes you stutter out a surprised laugh when he talks about his friend soap knocking some sense into him. 

you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he texts you asking if you want to join him and his sisters for a chinese. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he hands you his vegetable spring rolls without asking. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when after dinner he leads you up to his childhood bedroom and he kicks his dirty socks under his bed like you’ve seen him do many times before. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when your ribs ache from laughing and he’s wearing that beautiful grin. 

you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he slips into the open seat next to you at the pub, his arm slung over the back of your chair, much to the matching shocked expressions of mattie and alex. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he takes alex’s frosty demeanour on the chin. you fall in love with your friend kyle again when he responds to mattie’s pointed rhetorical “you know you broke his heart, yeah?” with a small squeeze to your shoulder and serious “i know, i was a fucking idiot.”.

you fall in love with kyle again when his hands shake on your waist as he leans in to kiss you outside your house under the flickering glow of a streetlight. just like you hoped he would so many years ago when you were both teenagers. you fall in love with kyle again when he pulls away to take in your stupefied expression and he asks if you’re okay, if he can kiss you again. you fall in love with kyle again when he gently turns you around so he can push you up against the front door to trail sucking kisses down your neck as your keys hit the doormat with a tinkling sound. you fall in love with kyle again when you ask him to slow down - wait - please - as he’s reaching for the top button of your jeans. you fall in love with kyle again when he traces gentle fingers over the scars on your chest, adoration in his eyes.

you love kyle when you trip over your boxers and his shirt the following morning as you stumble to the bathroom. you love kyle when you slip back into bed and he sleepily nuzzles into your neck. you love kyle when his phone blares his alarm from the back pocket of his trousers near the door to your bedroom 30 minutes later. 

you love him. you’ve loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later as he presses a kiss to your hair. you love him. -- taglist: @kaadaaan

[lakes-liver]

Legend has been acting very distinctly off, lately.

He’s not injured, Sky knows that much. There wasn’t a time where he’s been separated from the group. Something triggered him, perhaps? The veteran has more than enough baggage to sift through.

Sky really isn’t sure.

Legend hasn’t been the same since… about a week ago? Something of the sort? He’s been quieter, laughter not so loud, snarks not so present. If it were anyone else, Sky wouldn’t be concerned.

But this is Legend he’s talking about. Legend, who shows a prickly front but is soft on the inside. His facade isn’t prickly right now, though, more like a dull point.

Triggers don’t last that long, right? If they didn’t, he would be better by now, at least outwardly. Then again, Sky doesn’t know much (if anything at all) of the “shell-shock” the veteran, the captain, and even Time seem to describe. What he knows is limited, tales from an era long before Skyloft, when the world wasn’t so peaceful. So, maybe there’s a chance it can last this long?

This train of thought does not change the fact that there is still something wrong, and Sky is very much concerned.

Another day passes, and the Chosen Hero watches his friend. A multitude of notes show up.

One: no one else seems to have noticed the problem at hand.

Two: Legend is acting as he usually does (jabs, rolled eyes, etc.) around everyone in their group.

Third: the veteran is only acting oddly around Sky.

Now, this has raised a very important question in Sky’s mind. Did he do something wrong? While he’s never been one to hold silent grudges (except against the goddesses, of course), maybe Sky had done something to be an exception.

He mulls this over throughout the evening, as they set up camp. Physically, he’s busied by setting out his bedroll, as well as some of the others’. Mentally, though, he thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

If the veteran hadn’t been borderline ignoring him, Sky’s sure he’d make a quip about how he shouldn’t think so much.

“It must get difficult thinkin’ so hard, birdbrains,” he’d mock, and Sky would laugh, and all would be well.

But all is not well. And Sky is growing more nervous by the second.

He thinks over every interaction with Legend in the past week. Nothing stands out to him. It started normally, with pokes and jokes and smiles and giggles. Then, like a switch had been flipped, the pink-haired man had become strangely subdued.

Could it have something to do with that? The whole… pink-rabbit, thing? But that was months ago, and this was so much more recent.

“Sky? Ya ‘ere?” Fingers are being snapped in front of his face.

He jumps, looking into the marked face of Twilight. Sky hides it with a flush and a chuckle. “Yes! Sorry, got lost in my thoughts, there” — and here is where the birdbrain comments should go, yet none do — “what did you ask?”

Twi, ever the worrywart, frowns slightly. “I ‘as j’st askin’ ‘bout watch. Doubleshif’s, you an’ Ledge. But, if yer not up for it—”

“No!” Sky is fast to interrupt. “No worries! I’m alright, truly. That sounds wonderful.” He gives the most reassuring smile he can muster, and it’s honest and true, for once.

Twilight’s frown lifts, a bit, and the slightly older man nods and steps away towards Wild and Wind, who are still cooking dinner.

Watch with Legend, huh? Could this be his chance?

A small bit of him warns that things could go very, very, wrong.

Luckily, the bigger part of him tells him that if he doesn’t say anything now he will run out of time to say anything at all.

So, that is that. Watch is set—blech, the middle shift—and Sky walks over to the rest of his friends before he can think any more of the situation.

“Sky!” Wind waves. “Come sit by us!”

‘Us’, in this case, happens to be himself, Wild, and Twilight, none of whom he’s opposed to being near. Thus, he picks his way to a spot on a ground, settling next to Wind. The smaller melts into his side (a common occurrence), and Sky happily accepts a bowl of pumpkin soup.

It’s not the same as from his home, of course, but it’s still soup and there’s still pumpkins. He’s still satisfied by the taste.

“Thank you, Wild,” he says, setting the now-empty bowl beside him.

Wild grins crookedly. “‘Course, Sky, I’m glad you liked. Seconds?”

Sky shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

The sailor, on the other hand, shoots up, mouth completely stuffed. “‘ll take ‘is s’rv’in’!”

“Calm yerself, sailer, others gotta eat,” Twilight chides.

“Meanie.” Wind crosses his arms with a pout. Sky ruffles the top of his head, a fond look surely on his face, and the smaller does not shy away.

He spares a glance to Legend and Hyrule, across the fire. The former is staring, brows furrowed, but looks away as soon as he notices Sky’s gaze. The latter continues chattering away as if nothing happened (and, in their eyes, nothing did happen).

Overall, the fire is warm and his belly is full. His friends sit around him and talk and snort and sigh, contentment filling the air. Sure, they have double watches set up, the tension is high, and they are exhausted, but they are together and they are (physically) healthy. Sky could not ask for much more.

So, Sky turns in for the beginning of his rest. Wind is sprawled next to him, looking like the starfish they all claim to exist.

Three hours later, Time is shaking him awake.

“You’re up, Sky. Four’s already woken Legend,” he whispers.

Sky nods. This is a song they’ve danced to many times.

Seeing him up and aware, the oldest moves to his bedroll with a soft ‘goodnight’. The Skyloftian echoes it in turn, before advancing towards the dying embers and confusing veteran.

At first, the watch is normal. Sky watches one side whilst Legend watches the other. There isn’t much talking—there never is, on the second watch, what with tired eyes and restless heroes—but the bit that is remains light and regular. For a moment, he can almost forget the anxiety that’d been eating him away earlier.

Then, Sky makes a comment that shatters the glass around them.

“Oh c’mon, vet,” he rolls his eyes. “We both know you use those trinkets of yours quite often.”

The chuckle Legend gives sounds forced, and Sky is hit with a pang of guilt. It was meant as a simple jab—nothing more nor less—but it maybe it was too biting?

Sky takes the second to study Legend’s newfound stance. He’s hunched in on himself, hands hugging knees, and despite not being able to see his face, Sky can assume his expression is that of a resigned sort of scowl.

It’s the same reaction he’s seem many times on multiple others. Twilight when scolded by Time; Wild when scolded by Twi; Wind when scolded by Warriors; Hyrule when scolded by Legend. It is not a reaction he expected to receive from their veteran, let alone one to be stemmed from him.

It spikes a whole new pang of worry.

He turns back before Legend can catch his face. “Sorry, Ledge. I like your items a lot. It’s not a problem to use ‘em, you know.”

From the corner of his eye, he catches the tension release, just a little bit. Enough, though, to know he said the right thing. Good.

Legend doesn’t give a response besides a light bump of the shoulders. The watch continues in a not-quite-awkward but not-quite-comfortable silence.

Creeeeak.

Sky’s head is up in an instant, scanning and pausing and reviewing the treeline in front of him. His ears twitch and try to catch every little thing, from the scamper of a mouse to the rustle of the wind. He’s certain Legend is doing the same, on his end.

A beat passes. Two. Three.

Legend’s breath hitches. “Bokoblin. One o’ Wild’s, reckon.”

“The others?” Sky whispers, voice barely making a sound.

“No. It’s just one. On three?”

Sky nods.

One beat. Two.

“Three!” Legend hisses.

Sky springs up, Master Sword poised to strike and shield up to block. Legend follows in a similar manner, clutching the Tempered Sword and some sort of shield. The ‘blin barely reacts before Sky is moving, moving, moving, slashing at the beast with a ferocity he didn’t realize he possessed this late at night.

The monster bleeds black.

Legend notices too, and lets out a soft string of curses before he’s in on the action. They trade blows, one then the other then both at the same time.

The bokoblin does not back down. It swings its own sword at their ankles, then their waists, then their heads. Wide arcs that make it near impossible to get in, despite the fact that the odds are two to one.

Legend pushes and knocks it off balance, and Sky seizes his chance. He steps into the circle, sword going faster than a blink, and stabs through the head. The Master Sword glints on the other side. The beast dissolves into nothing save a gem and some guts.

Sky lets out a cheer and turns to Legend.

Who’s eyes, suspiciously, are blown wide with fear. Did he get hurt? Had Sky missed something during the heat of the battle?

He stumbles forward—wait, stumbles? Sky shouldn’t be stumbling, he didn’t get hurt, just look down—oh. That’s blood. On his tunic. On his stomach.

Shit.

Pain erupts from the area, stabbing and scorching and hot in a way it really should not be, not on a fresh wound, not unless it’s infected—

“Sky? Sky! Stay with me, hero, stay with me.” Legend is frantic and holding his shoulders, lowering him carefully to the ground. Why is he so panicked? It’s not that bad, right?

Another shot of pain rocks his body, and he bites back a scream with practiced expertise.

Nevermind, it is definitely that bad.

Still, though, Legend is upset, and he can’t have that. Legend shouldn’t be upset, not because of him.

“I’m okay,” he gasps. “‘m fine, Ledge, just needa—” a coughing fit fights its way out and he cant stop it.

“You ain’t fine, you needa potion or sum. Hold on fer me, ‘kay? Hold on, ‘ll get Roolie or, or,” Legend stops, stares, and then darts up and away. Sky frowns, because Legend is still stressed and he can tell because his accent is loose and free and that is not something he often does.

He holds on for as long as he can, though. He can hear shouts and people getting up and running and since when did they get so far? What’s even happening? Is someone hurt?

Ow. Right. Sky is hurt.

His stomach doesn’t feel so good. It feels sticky and hot and gross and bad and he doesn’t like it. Maybe a nap will help? Naps usually help when he’s tired, they always have. Maybe he should nap.

Just as his eyes start to fall shut, someone shakes him, yelling and shaking and yelling and shaking. Bright, violet, eyes meet dull sky blue, panicked and calm and panicked and calm and ow ow ow everything hurts so bad.

The violet eyes have a mouth attached, and it keeps opening and closing but he can’t hear anything. Should he be hearing something?

Something cold presses against his stomach and he hisses. It keeps going, pushing and pushing, but the cold becomes warm and soft and comfortable. Sky could nap, like this.

Despite his eyes fluttering shut, someone grabbed and shook him, yet again. He really wishes they’d stop, he’s trying to nap here!

“—descendant!” They say.

…What?

Now significantly more interested, Sky strains his ears to listen closer. Oh, cool, the warm-yet-cold hands gave some of his hearing back. That’s nice.

“I’m—or—dant!”

They’re… huh?

“I’m royal!”

The Chosen Hero blinks. Once, twice, three times. His vision is so blurry he can’t make anything out besides those glaring eyes and disheveled hair.

The pain is subsiding, a little bit, so that’s neat.

What did they mean… royal?

Oh. Oh! Wait! Him and Sun start the royal bloodline of Hyrule, don’t they? This person could be referring to that! Is it a Zelda? Did one of the other Zeldas come? They’re so sweet, all those young women, and it triggers something in him that’s quite enjoyable. Maybe, once this pain quiets down, he can talk to them? That’d be just wonderful.

He closes his eyes again, humming in contentment when the unknown Zelda doesn’t shake him back. The sharp and burning and horrible ache is nothing more than annoying, now, and he’s slept much worse than this. He falls unconscious, unaware to the trembling hero next to him.

What could be minutes or hours or even days later, Sky opens his eyes again. It’s dark out, and stars shine brightly up above. Trees dot the outline of his vision.

He tries to sit up. His lower abdomen protests vehemently, and he has to abandon such efforts. Something between a groan and whine escaped him, despite his feeble attempts to swallow it whole.

“Sky?” Someone asks. “Sky! You’re awake!”

He looks towards the voice, and is pleasantly surprised to see Legend. He made it out of the fight! There’s no visible bandages, or splints, or anything but concerned eyes and a soft face.

Sky musters up the best smile he can. “I’m okay, Ledge.” He pushes up again, and this time makes it as far as propping his weight onto his elbows. His stomach screams, but he’s alright, truly.

“You damn better be,” the vet mutters, but he helps push the chosen hero up the rest of the way. Sky nods his thanks, before scanning their camp.

It’s still the same place they were last time. A small grove in the middle of uncharted woods, somewhere so random that no one knows who’s Hyrule it is or even if it is anyones. There are six sleeping forms and the outline of Wolfie.

There is no Zelda. He distinctly remembers a Zelda being there, after he was injured. Did she leave? He wanted to talk to her.

“Where did she go?” Sky asks, frowning. That’s unfortunate.

Legend raises an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Zelda,” he says, like it’s obvious. “She was here whenever… I got hurt, I guess.”

“Sky,” Legend looks very confused. “There wasn’t ever anyone’s Zelda here. Why would you think so?”

His words are thought out, slower, deeper than the mess he’d been when Sky was injured. That’s good, it means the vet has had time to breathe and calm down since then.

“There wasn’t? But someone mentioned being of royal descent, did they not?” Had he made that entire conversation up? Something of delusion built from blood loss and poison?

Legend’s expression freezes; a blush creeps across his ears. “You, uh, you heard that?”

“Yes?” How could he not? They were shaking and shouting, for Hylia’s sake!

“Oh.”

Sky is growing quickly more confused, and concerned, and he remembers why he was so nervous around Ledge in the first place. Something was wrong—no, something is wrong—and he wants to figure it out.

“Legend? Did something happen? Are you alright?”

The veteran shakes his head. “You got stabbed, Chosen. Scared the hell outta us.”

But that doesn’t answer about the past week or the mysterious person who he’s very very certain said they were related to him.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. Before the other can object, Sky continues. “What about the Zelda, though? Or whoever it was? Someone said they were my descendant, I thought.”

Legend looks anywhere but at Sky’s face. It’s very suspicious. “That, uh, that doesn’t matter. You need rest.”

Sky uses his own arms to keep him up, despite the insistence of the pink-haired hero to get him to lay back down. The more lucid he is, the less the pain matters. It’s nothing, now. He’s done more on less.

“No, wait, Ledge—”

“It was me,” he whispers, and it’s as quick as the pegasus boots he loves so much.

“Hm?”

Legend flushes, continuing to look away. “It was, uh. It was me. I’m your…” he trails off into something incoherent.

Sky raises an inquisitive brow.

“Don’t make me say it,” Legend scowls.

“Say what?”

“You know what!” And Sky really does. He wants to hear Legend admit it for himself, though.

“Stab wound,” he deadpans instead.

Legend huffs and pouts and crosses his arms, scowl deepening, then softening, then deepening again.

A beat passes. No one stirs except for the two exhausted heroes.

“Fable—my Zelda—she’s my sister. I’m the Prince of Hyrule, technically.” Legend brings his knees up to his chest and hugs them, eyes downcast, stance tense and so similar to how it was by the fire, that night.

Everything clicks into place very neatly.

Legend is not upset with Sky. He is worried about Sky, worried he’s been a disappointment, worried that he’s somehow made a mistake. So he cut back on snarks and rolled eyes, on cocked hips and wide gestures, replaced it with something subdued and a (quite frankly horrid) attempt at being something different.

“Can I hug you?” Sky asks, because it’s the only thing he can think of saying.

The veteran—the teenager, really—all but jumps. But, exactly as he hoped he would, the boy uncurls himself just enough to nod and accept the arms barrelling into him.

Sky represses a gasp (ow ow ow, next time, do not fall into someone’s arms with a scabbed stab wound, good Hylia), and squeezes tight, pouring every ounce of care he can in. This is his descendant, his kid, and it’s such a rush of emotions he’s surely going to have to process later but for right now Legend slots perfectly into his arms and all is well.

“You’re not… you’re not mad?” The boy rasps.

Sky uses one hand to comb through unruly hair. Jeez, did this kid brush it at all while he was unconscious? He’s going to have to use the recently acquired dad-card to fix that.

“Why’d I be mad, Ledge?”

From where he’s pressed the other against his chest (how did he never realize Legend was so small? Has he seriously never hugged him before?), Sky can’t see the expression he’s making. He can well assume, though, that’s something along the lines of furrowed brows and pressed lips, confusion evident with a hint of something else.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Legend finally decides on, and Sky almost laughs at how absurd the question is.

He pulls back to look the boy in the eyes. “Legend, you are a wonderful person who has done wonderous things. You have faced atrocities that no person should, and come out stronger, better, and you have done it again and again, because you care for people less fortunate than you.” His descendant’s eyes are blown wide, wide, wide, and the deep black spots are all the more obvious; no wonder he’s so open, right now, there is not a single ounce of sleep in that body. “I know I haven’t known you long, but I am so proud of you regardless, Legend, and I have no words for how happy I am that I am somehow related to you.”

Violet eyes stare into sky blue, expression lax in a way Sky has not seen before, details in the starlight that are old to one but new to the other.

Sky is hit with the fact that he has never looked at the veteran before this. Not hard enough to point out the little things, like the freckles or light scars or baby hairs.

“Oh,” Legend murmurs, casting his gaze downwards and caving in on his own body a bit more. “Okay.”

“Legend,” eyes flick up once more, “I’m being genuine.”

“I know.” A long pause. “I know, it’s just not that simple, I guess. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Ledge.”

Legend’s eyes go wide, wide, wide, once more. “The others can’t know I’m Fable’s brother.”

That is definitely something Sky is going to address at a later date.

For now, he hopes that the glint his eyes get is mischievous and his smirk comes across correctly. “Exactly.”

Legend does not look convinced.

“We’ll be like Twi and the champion were, for a while. Imagine how pissed Wars an’ Wind’ll be trying to figure it out,” Sky says, because while he’s seen hell he’s still just barely twenty and the epitome of a little shit.

(Holy Hylia, he’s going to have to address that later. How do Twilight and Wild do this all day? They’re barely a few years apart!)

Legend stares at him, and then lets out a cackle of a laugh. Real and honest, all because of Sky, and hope blooms in his chest. The other is undoubtedly the hardest nut to crack and Sky is finally getting through, after months of work.

Soon, he starts laughing too. He can’t help it! The vet’s laugh is so contagious, and he’s rocking back on his knees, and Sky is wheezing, and they’re both definitely delirious.

They’re also a bit too loud, because even as their giggles subside, the other Links begin stirring. Hyrule first, the lightest sleeper by far, but Wind and Wild and Wars follow not long after. The chain wake to two grinning brothers, and while they don’t understand it, they’re joining in as well.

Sky’s stomach hurts like a bitch, which is not a word he uses lightly, but he feels happy in an odd sense. A lot has happened—too much—but he can ignore it in favor of a good laugh with his brothers.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 20 - Transfiguration Classroom

@wolfstarmicrofic November 20, word count 348

“Why is it we always end up in here?” Remus asked between kisses. “It’s like you’re trying to get us caught by McGonagall,” He complained as Sirius nipped at his bottom lip. 

“You know me, Moony, I like to live dangerously,” Sirius smiled against his lips, pecking little kisses on and around his mouth. “Besides, McGonagall’s in her office upstairs, and she hasn’t got any more classes today,” Sirius moved his mouth to Remus’s neck and sucked on his pulse point. Remus felt his knees go weak. He hadn’t even known that was a thing until Sirius had kissed him there the first time. He relaxed into Sirius’s touch and forgot that they were even in the transfiguration classroom. 

It didn’t last long. Less than a minute later, the proximity charm he’d set went off, and someone began to open the door. Without a word, Sirius pulled James’s invisibility cloak out of his bag and threw it over them both just as McGonagall walked into her classroom. 

Remus tried to keep silent, but Sirius, being the menace he was, had pressed himself against Remus and reached up to continue sucking little bruises into the column of his neck. Remus had to clamp his hand over his mouth to stop from moaning. But he must have made a noise because McGonagall looked up from her desk right at them. 

She stood up and walked slowly towards where they were hiding under the cloak when a loud bang from down the corridor made them all jump. She took a long breath and expelled it sharply through her nose before she went to see what all the commotion was. 

“Prongs, my absolute hero,” Sirius grinned at him as they quickly gathered their things and made a hasty retreat. He must have spotted them on the map and seen McGonagall come in. He probably thought they were pulling a prank and needed some help getting out of there. 

“No more transfiguration classroom,” Remus hissed into Sirius’s ear as they hurried back up to Gryffindor Tower. Sirius agreed. That had been too close. 

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König is Naturally Nerd!König

A lot of people suggest nerd!König (which is essentially regular König in my books) would be into DnD, or Star Wars, or Lego, but I disagree.

Normal and Nerd!König are obsessed with miniature armies. He has little models of airplanes and tanks that he puts on display in his room. He only has two World War models (and even then it's WW1), and those are the planes that Baron von Richthofen flew. Otherwise, he collects medieval minis and paints them.

He creates whole dioramas of them, and they're surprisingly good. He has the money to sink into his hobby, and it fills his time when he's not at work. He fidgets a lot, but he's gotten good at doing fine detail work. They're not award winning, but they're really quite good.

In addition, he's a major reader. If you want to know more about what König reads, check out this post here. If you don't want to read it, the gist of it is that König loves reading and reads all the time. He's probably the type to sniff and say the book was better than the movie. He's right, but he doesn't need to be so snobby about it.

Through the military, he has an extensive knife and gun collection. He can use all of them, sure, but he really doesn't need that many. He used to have only one room dedicated to them, but he's since had to move twice and torn down a wall most recently to make a big enough room for everything. He kinda sucks that way. He really takes up a lot of space.

However, Nerd!König didn't end up joining the military. He instead went into nuclear engineering and earned an excellent living to fund his expensive hobbies. He also ended up having more time to devote to his crafts, which led to...

More under the cut.

Nerd!König is a Snob

König is a pathfinder 2e type of guy. He's that pedantic. He'll have the rule books memorized, and he has links to download the pdfs ready at the flick of a wrist. He's ready to convert you. Your DnD supplies will be absorbed into his Pathfinder 2E.

A big reason he's into Pathfinder 2E is because he was introduced at a young age and so collected the supplies, but when he heard about the Wizards of the Coast scandals he decided he'd use that as his reasoning. He gets up on a soapbox about it whenever he can. He really, really hates Wizards of the Coast. It's a firey rage that burns within.

He also likes Warhammer. He's a disgusting Warhammer lover. He plays a ridiculous Adeptus Mechanicus army that he's painted himself. It's surprisingly good painting, too. Having painted Adeptus Mech before, I'm telling you it's really hard. He makes it looks easy with craft paint and crazy glue. He's disgustingly good at it. I hate him for it. How dare he be so good. He is genuinely a fantastic painter. That said, we saw what happened with the last Austrian painter, so maybe it's a good thing he stuck to painting minis.

Nerd!König also loves to collect ancient weaponry. To make it worse, he actually practises with it and has become pretty decent with it. He's feared among the LARPing community because he's known to be a fearsome competitor. He'd be more well liked if he didn't accidentally break people's wooden shields so often. As it is, he's not fully blacklisted, but he's skating on thin ice. He'd be banned for sure if it weren't for the fact that the forest on his property is amazing for LARPing.

Finally, he's into Renaissance fairs. He goes and does public sword fighting, once again, LARPing. He'll also show off his weaponry collections, and will gladly go on hour long spiels to anyone unfortunate to ask about the history of an item on his table. He is on good terms with the blacksmiths, and he's always having to pay the local seamstress to fix his clothing back in the traditional style. He will also go up to the ferret keeper and play with their ferrets, and then beg you to get some. He just wants a cute little ferret. Can't he have a couple? No, not one! They need playmates. You need at least three.

Either way, Nerd!König is a big silly guy. He's a bit friendlier and gentler than regular König honestly. He also is super passionate about his hobbies. He's so excited to show you his hobbies, and he really wants you to enjoy them too.

Just so you know, all these hobbies are expensive. Very expensive. It's a good thing he's making so much money, because otherwise you'd go bankrupt overnight, because, "Games Workshop released a new edition of the walkers! I need them for my army!"

[killuintense]

hi my people hi lunation I CAME TO TELL YOU I WANT TO GIVE THIS MAN A HEAD, I NEED TO SUCK HIM RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT AAAAA

[pekoposting]

natsuki and fumiko for @the-only-teruteru-fan's contest!

(i love how with kuzupeko fankids the gene pool is often so evenly split, like no dominant or submissive genes, just 50/50. fuyuhiko and peko would be so happy)

edit: it is too late but. recessive genes.

[shorthairchris]

“Good boy swallow”

WHAT

[fandoms--fluff]

The Perfect Dress

Flufftober, October 11th

Younger Mikaelson sister reader x Hope Mikaelson

Summary: You and Hope go shopping Rebekah's closet.

Warnings: none

A/n: I know for a fact that Rebekah has got to have a closet like London does from Zach and Cody. Oh and reader is only like a couple years younger than Hope in this. The dress explained is not based off anything by the brand mentioned, I just picked a really expensive designer for the story.

And it may be a bit crack by the end, but I find if funny and cute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ugh, I have nothing to wear to this dang party. All my dresses are so old and I'm pretty sure this is from when I was nine" Hope groans, flipping through the hanging clothing in her closet. She pulls out the small green dress that's significantly smaller than the other clothing hung up.

"Well it's a pretty dress" You tilt her head and pick it up from the bed where she tossed it. "Hah, if you like it so much then you wear it to the party" Hope teases.

"Hmm, maybe I will" you say, turning the teasing back to her. You slip off your tank top and jean shorts, leaving you in your nude bra and bright pink and yellow striped underwear.

"Isn't that the same underwear you wore when you were in like kindergarten?" She chuckles, noticing the difference between the two undergarments. "Maybe, maybe not. And they're my favorite pair nonetheless" You answer with a straight face.

You pull the green dress over your head and bring it down your body. Moving to the mirror in the corner of the room, you straighten it out. "You sure it's from when you were nine?" You ask, eyebrows furrowing. "Yeah, I know, it fits you perfectly though. That's a bit disturbing. I wore it to the mall for that picture with Santa the year you hit him in the face" She explains.

"Oh, yeah. That was a good day. Got him right in the eye" You nod, smiling to yourself in glee. "Oh yeah, the elves had a field day with that" Hope states, an eyebrow raised, not impressed.

"Maybe I should wear this" You pose with your hands on your hips. "We can see how long it takes Mom to notice what dress it is" You concoct the plan.

"How long will it take me to talk you out of that?" She asks while trying to hide her own smile.

"Um, 40 minutes, and hour tops" You nod in agreement with yourself. "Okay, go ahead and wear it" She says, not up to discussing this with you for that long.

"Yay" You say, spinning in the older dress. Hope shakes her head, a smile quirking at the corners of her lips as she turns back around to face her closet.

She starts going through all her dresses, coming to the same conclusion. "These all stink" She huffs.

"So you're done with searching for any possibilities in your closet?" You ask from your spot on her bed. "Yeah" she breathes out. She's stressed cause the party's in less than an hour and she has her makeup and hair done, except not her outfit. Which is kind of her own fault for not prepping in advance, but she was heavily procrastinating that part.

"Well come with me then" you hop off the bed and grab onto Hope's wrist, leading her into the hallway. "Where are we going?" She asks as you lead the way up stairs to all your aunts and uncles rooms.

"Our one stop shopping destination" You answer, opening the door to Rebekah's room and pull Hope in. You advance towards the woman's closet and open the door, walking in. Hope slowly follows you, not wanting to get in trouble.

"Aunt Rebekah's closet?" She asks. "Yep!" You exclaim, a smile bright on your face.

Hope steps into the closet and marvels at how big it is. There's racks and shelves and everything in between full of clothing, accessories and shoes. There's even a seating area in the center and a massive vanity to the side, and a big expensive coffee maker on a trolley next to one of the seats.

"Oh. my. god. This is a closet?" She slowly spins around, taking everything in. "Yeah, amazing, isn't it?" You say and walk over to the racks of dresses.

Hope idly follows you, still trying to register every detail. "Okay, so this is the rack where I think you'll find what you're looking for" You present it to her.

There must be dozens of dresses of all different colours, fabrics and designs just on the one rack. Hope nervously steps up to it, next to you. "Are we allowed to be in here? What happens if she catches us? I don't want to ruin anything" She says, knowing that just one of these dresses alone probably cost more than everything in her closet.

"Auntie Rebekah will be fine, and stop worrying, you won't damage the dress. But if somehow you do, all we need to do is cast a little spell to repair it, that's all" You reassure your older sister.

"Okay. Wait, how much have you been in here?" She questions. "A lot. This is where I come to hide from Mom when she's mad at me" You answer. "Which is a lot. I've memorized basically everything and have inventory in here" You tap on your head.

"Does Aunt Rebekah know about all that?" Hope smiles, already predicting the answer. All you do is bring a finger up to your lips, creating the 'shh' symbol. "Why am I not surprised" She chuckles, shaking her head humorously.

She slowly starts going through the rack of dresses, running her hand gently down all the expensive fabrics they're made. And while she does that, you walk over to the chair next to the coffee machine, sitting down. You reach your arm down to the bottom tray of the trolley and pick up the bowl of chocolate.

You watch your sister as she goes through the dresses while eating the also probably expensive chocolate. At this point, you're not sure how much everything in your Aunts closet costs, but it's probably enough to make a down payment on a really big and pretty mansion. Or maybe even just buy the mansion all together.

Soon enough, Hope pauses. The dress she came upon is probably one of the most beautiful dress she's ever laid her eyes on. It's a purple layered dress, the back longer than the front. The bodice is completely covered in crystals and the layering of the flowing fabric looks like every layer was crafted with exact precision. She's never seen anything like it.

She carefully takes the hanger off the rack and walks slowly to the big full length mirror across the basically room of a closet. Holding it against herself, she imagines it on her. You smile and put the bowl of chocolate back on the bottom tray of the trolley before going over to your sister.

She looks at the crafted brand tag on the inside of the dress. "Is Debbie Wingham an expensive brand" she asks, never hearing of it before.

You raise your eyebrows, knowing the exact answer, but you don't want to make Hope second guess herself. Come on, you saw how she reacted to the dress once she came upon it. "It's not too expensive but also not something you can find at a regular dress shop. It's unique" You lie right through your teeth and she believes every word. If you were to just say it was a cheap dress, she would never believe you because even though she hasn't been in here before, she knows your guys' aunt's taste.

"It's beautiful. You should try it on." You take the dress from her hold and carefully pull the hanger out from the straps, placing it back on the rack. "Are you sure?" She asks.

"One hundred percent" You nod. "Okay" She smile forms it's way on her face. She pulls her shirt and jeans off, folding them up. She places them on the chair you were sitting on before turning back to you. She's just in her bra and underwear now.

You unzip the dress and hold it down lower, making it easier for her to step in to. "Thanks" she says, stepping into the dress as careful as she could be.

You pull the dress up over her legs and curves, stopping halfway up her stomach. "I think this is meant to be worn without a bra" You say, noticing the structure of the bodice.

"Oh, uh, okay. Don't look" She says as she reaches back to unclasp her bra. "Like I'd purposely do so" you deadpan, making a weird face. "What kind of incest thoughts are you having?" you joke. "Oh shush, you" Hope chuckles, tossing her bra over to her other folded up clothing.

You keep your eyes plastered on her back, not wanting to accidentally get flashed while you continue to pull the dress up. Once the dress is up all the way, Hope puts her arms in the sleeves.

You clasp the top and then pull the zipper up to its secured position at the top. "There we go. It feels all good?" You pat her back softly. "Yes, thanks, Y/n/n." She smiles.

"Your boobies all secured?" You ask once she turns around to face you. "Please don't hit me" You take a step back as soon as you see her expression. She rolls her eyes playfully.

You look her up and down, taking in her appearance. "You look gorgeous, and I'm not just saying it because you're my sister. You look really pretty" You tell your older sister. "Thank you" She said, her smile growing bigger.

She walks over to you and pulls you into a hug. "Of course. I also think someone is overdue to look in the mirror" You say once you pull away.

You guys walk over to the mirror and Hope pauses in front of the mirror. She looks over the dress and how it looks on her body. It's the most beautiful thing she's ever put on.

"See. I told you." You wrap your arm around her shoulder. "You ready for the party now? No more worrying?" You ask.

"Yeah. I'm all ready" She walks with you to the door of the closet. You pick up her clothes before you guys leave. You walk back down to her room to drop off her clothing and wait for the party to start.

Not too long later, your Uncle Kol calls you guys to get your butts down there, saying people are arriving. Before you guys go down to the courtyard ballroom place, you turn to Hope when she stands up.

"Oh and by the way, if Auntie Rebekah does notice the dress, just play dumb and hope for the best. That's what I do." You tell her. "What? You said she'd be alright with it" Hope's eyes widen.

"It's alright, trust me, she'll proabbly be making out with Marcel twenty minutes into the party anyways" You tell her.

"Oh, gross" She winces. You raise an eyebrow at her. "But fair point" she says, thinking about it and she cant believe it, but agrees with you.

"Exactly. Let's go!" You grab her hand and lead her down to the party. "Wait, wait, wait. You're sure on wearing that?" She asks, looking at her old dress you're wearing.

Turning around, you send her a glare. "Yes, I like this dress. It's pretty. And plus now it's found a new home that's not the garbage or whatever" You tell her. "If that's alright with you" You tell her, remembering you haven't technically asked her to keep it yet.

"Of course it is, why would I want to keep a dress in my closet that doesn't fit when you clearly like it and it actually fits you" She chuckles. "Thank you!'' You exclaim, far too excited than she would've expected someone getting a 'hand me down' from their older sister.

As soon as you guys enter the courtyard, your Dad walks over to you guys. "Well, you guys look absolutely beautiful" Klaus hugs you both.

"See, I told you" You elbow Hope lightly. "I've never seen you wear that dress before. Is it new, Littlest Wolf?" He says, getting an embarrassed flush out of Hope. You snicker, earning Hope's glare.

"Umm, sort of" She answers your guys' dad. "Well, it's very pretty. And where have I seen this dress before?" He asks, knowing he's never seen it on you before, but somewhere he's seen it.

"Umm- Oh, hey Auntie Rebekah" You say, seeing your aunt walking up to you guys. Hope's eyes widen once she sees Rebekah as well. She really doesn't want to get in trouble.

"Hello my beautiful nieces. I love your dress, Hope, it looks really familiar" Rebekah smiles, not knowing about your guys' scheme. You see how Hope freezes at the statement and immediately jump into action.

"It's probably from one of your magazines. Oh hey, look, Auntie Davina's over there, lets go" You grasp onto Hope's arm and pull her to the other side of the room where Davina's getting a drink.

You wink at her, "Not my first rodeo" You whisper, getting a thankful chuckle and nod out of your older sister.

"Well, that was weird" Rebekah comments. "Wait a second-" Rebekah realizes something. "What?" Klaus turns to his sister.

You listen into their conversation as well as Hope. "Oh no" Hope tenses. You guys wait for the bomb to drop and are immensely surprised at what happens.

"The dress Y/n was wearing. Where's it from?" She says. "That's what I was wondering" Klaus tells her. "Hold on" Rebekah walks over to the library and grabs a photograph before walking back over to Klaus.

"What's going on?" Hayley walks over to the two of them.

"Oh, come on!" You exclaim, making Hope laugh. "How is it that after everything, you're the one who's probably going to get in trouble" Hope tries to calm her laughter down to keep listening in.

You throw your head back, a groan leaving your throat before also listening back into the conversation between your parents and aunt.

"Why do you have one of the Christmas pictures of the girls?" She asks. "Well you see, it seems that the youngest Mikaelson is wearing this dress. I knew I've seen it somewhere" Rebekah tells both of them.

"You're telling me that our fourteen year old daughter is wearing her sister's Christmas dress from when she was nine?" Hayley asks, remembering that day all too well.

"Well, our Sweetheart seems to be listening in as well as her sister" Klaus smirks, his gaze landing on the two of you.

"Oh, seriously!" You exclaim, throwing your arms up. You gain Davina's attention and she takes the couple steps towards you. "What's wrong, girls?" She asks.

"Oh, you'll see" Hope tells her. "Again, how am I getting the attntion when you look amazing...Maybe I can slip it to them...Or not, sorry" You tell Hope, seeing her look again.

"Do I even want to know?" Davina chuckles. You shake your head but then realize your parents and Rebekah making their way over to you guys. "Agh, hide me!" You exclaim in a whisper, jumping to hide behind Davina.

"Or you know what? Run!" You say, taking Hope with you. She laughs as she follows, and the night begins!

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

thought

one day, during the stan twins and the niblings latest visit to the shack, ford suddenly declared it ‘hug stan day’, starting a chain reaction of everyone in the shack (it was closed at the time) giving stan hugs

in revenge, stan declared that it was actually ‘hug ford day’ and the same thing happened to him

mabel has a bunch of photos in her scrap books of that day. the stans were so happy, she needed to get as many pictures as possible to save the moment! it was also the first night in a while that neither of them had any nightmares. so she has a puffy ‘sweet dreams’ sticker at the end of those pages

it was just an all around good time for everyone

[fungal-rot]

Just Ask

this is short, sweet, to the point. was gonna be longer, but i’ve had massive brain fart and writers block for like the past couple weeks lol. i wasn’t gonna post this bc of it, but then i was like, ‘well at least i wrote something !!’ so anyway-

pairing: Javi G x Reader

summary: Javi loves to spoil you. He'd give you the entire world if he could. All you have to do is ask. (this is also smut practice just fyi)

warnings: smut (no plot), fingering, oral (f receiving), fluffy kinda?? f!reader, no description of reader

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱��｡°˚⁺

"Just ask me, hermosa." Javi would always tell you; whether it was for a date night, a specific movie to watch, or even that new brand-name pair of shoes you eyed in a shop window. He only wanted to give you what you deserved.

"Ask, and it's yours."

"J-Javi, sweetheart-" You whined out, hands clutching and pawing at his wavy, sun-bleached hair while his face was buried deep into your slick cunt.

His tongue lapped and savored the musky, salty-sweet taste of your folds, all the while the bridge of his nose bumped and rubbed up against your clit, creating that tantalizing friction you were desperately chasing.

"Ask me," Javi uttered against your skin before sliding a long, thick finger inside your heat.

Your hips bucked into his mouth, eager to reach that high you could feel stirring up in your tummy. Of course, you adored that Javi wanted to lavish you with anything you asked for, but you hated actually having to ask. Not in an 'I-shouldn’t-have-to-ask' way; more of an 'I-don't-want-you-to-think-I'm-expecting-it' way.

He was determined to break you of that.

Javi hummed lowly before pulling his mouth away, eliciting a cry of loss from you. He inserts another finger, curling the two digits up against the sponge-like flesh of your cunt with careful precision. "Tell me what you want, mí corazón," he cooed and laid his head on your thigh's soft, pillowy flesh. "Need to hear you ask for it."

He placed a sweet kiss on your hip bone while that gentle, tender puppy-like gaze bored into yours. His neatly trimmed facial hair- wet from you- lightly scratched at your skin, erupting a wave of goosebumps and leaving behind a bit of your slick on the surface.

Another whine pushed from your chest. You wanted just to tell him to fuck you already, teeth gritting with a twitch of your lip. Javi was being so sweet, though. So tender and loving as he looked up at you from your thighs, thick fingers still curling and pumping into you at a slow, steady pace.

"You- I- fuck, Javi!" You cried out a stammered mess. The hand, still fisting at his hair, tugged a little harder, eliciting a groan from him with a shut of his eyes.

"Iwannacum!" Spoken all too quickly, and words slurred together, Javi shook his head with a click of his tongue.

"That is more of a statement," He lightly chided with a chuckle and breathy noise of your name, but moved his mouth back over your swollen bud, hovering and leaving you mewling beneath him.

Your hips lift from the mattress in an attempt to chase his mouth, and with a strong arm, he keeps you pinned. Your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, all nerve endings sweltering with a heat that only he could extinguish. As your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, trying to find the words to correct yourself, but not quite getting there, that’s when Javi spoke once more in an almost desperate tone,

"Ask me."

Fuck, okay. You had to do this. With what little bit of resolve you had left, the words finally came falling from your tongue in hasty desire, "Javi, will yo- will you make me cum? Please, baby, I need to cum."

Pleased with your request, he smiled fondly with a faint hum of approval.

"Anything you ask for, it’s yours,” he murmured and latched his mouth back on your bundle of nerves, eagerly lapping and sucking away.

Oh, yes, Javi was going to give you any and everything you asked for.

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

uh, anyway yeah- i love my pookie sunshine bear. if you liked this please reblog/like/comment !! <3 i love feedback and hearing ur thoughts

[pidgeispunk]

Pedro Pascal Character Headcannons — Cuddles Pt. 2

you can find part one here.

Oberyn Martell:

Oberyn’s a lazy sleeper, but he likes to make sure he’s close to you. Most nights — if not all — he’ll let you chose the position, meaning it sometimes varies night to night. Usually at least one arm is around your body, whether it’s around your waste or holding your thigh, his hands will always find you. He likes the way you seek out his arms in the night, sometimes not even realising you’re doing it. The way your hand laces with his, and you’re pulling his arm up and over yourself. Usually you’ll wake up in a completely different position that you fell asleep in, and most times Oberyn will have moved himself much closer to you.

Pero Tovar:

Tovar almost always sleeps on his back, he struggles to get to sleep any other way. He also can’t not have you cuddled up to him, any time you try and wriggle out of his hold he’ll whine something and pull you closer. Both arms stay tight around you, fully engulfing you as his hands splay across your back. He’s a little insecure that you might up and leave him at any moment, so he takes the advantage of the night to hold you as close to him as he can. It’s like he’s trying to merge your bodies the way he bear hugs you. He doesn’t care if you’re facing him, spooning, or completely on top, he just has to be hugging you.

Agent Whiskey:

It took Jack a while to admit it, but he adores being the little spoon. He’s always so protective over you during the days, especially given his line of work, so when it comes to sleeping, he loves just being held by you. He feels so safe with your arms around him, head tucked over his shoulder as you press kisses to his temple. His larger hands find yours, lacing his fingers with yours and smiling at the way you absentmindedly fiddle with his. He’ll make sure he’s pressed back against you completely, sighing when he feels you draping a leg over his waist. Some nights he’ll turn around in his sleep, getting even closer if that was possible.

Ezra:

Ezra hates how he has to be so on guard during the night. When he first arrived on the planet he barely slept, he would try and guard as much as possible. But now you’ve convinced him to actually get some sleep, you’ve got enough reinforcement on your ship. He keeps his gun on the floor beside the bed, force of habit you could say. But when it comes to cuddles, he’s more than happy to let you curl up on top of him, you aren’t exactly heavy. He lets his fingers run through your hair as a way of calming him down, knowing it’ll also send you straight to sleep. He likes to be sitting up a little, just in case.

Max Phillips:

Max’s is possessive, despite nobody being around it’s like he’s trying to make sure nobody can get to you. He keeps a hand on your thigh at all times, on the leg that’s bent and draped over his legs. He’ll pull your leg higher if he can, just so he can get his hand higher on your thigh. Considering max doesn’t actually sleep, he’s more than happy to spend the 10 or so hours just watching you. He likes the way you curl up at his side, making sure your head’s comfortable on his chest as a hand lays flat beside your head. Sometimes he’ll slip a hand beneath your head, letting you rest on it just because he knows how much you love it.

Javi Gutierrez:

Javi has a habit of fidgeting. You will most likely not wake up in the position you fell asleep in, and half the time the duvet’s been yanked over to his side. He doesn’t intend on doing in, and sometimes he feels quite bad the way he’s left you with almost no cover and very little room. If he hasn’t starfished and almost knocked you off the bed, he’s taken you with him. If he rolls over, he’ll drag you with him. When he moves an arm, it stays around you.

[cochineal-leviat]

Kirfluff's Fine Theatre

Inspired by @ilikesillythingswooo artwork, which they based off of this cute comic by @stardustshimmer

Originally, this was an animatic. But Krita is not willing to cooperate with me (I learned vaguely to animate in Photoshop), so screw it, here are the keyframes. I don't want to leave this in my drafts after the work I put into this. I finished the keyframes somewhere at the end of August. It has been too long.

I only regret that I realised too late I should have put texture in the drawing. But I am not in the mood to go back and fix it. I finished this way before ilikesillythingswooo finished their sketch. So sorry for the inaccuracies! I love your art!

I used the primary subtractive colours for the most part. It was a fun palette! Kirby's dress reminded me of OG's Snowhite gown from Disney, so I used it for some inspiration. (Elfilin ended up breaking the colour palette, but that's fine. They suffered a mighty defeat. Let them have some green/purple)