#normal until ring a bell rolls around at least

[seishun-emergency]

every day we get a little bit closer to our belated tori himemiya christmas and i await that day eagerly

[naddiesflower]

Calling him by his name and not by a term of endearment

another one in the drafts that needed to see the light of day

Characters: Todoroki Shoto and Bakugo Katsuki

Shoto

You truly didn't mean to do it

You honestly just straight up forgot one day

You would always greet each other outside of class before school started

Like clockwork, you would give each other a small hug and you would always say “hi baby” or something similar, but you would always call him baby…..except for today

“Morning Shoto,” you pull away from the hug, and he has a frown on his face that looks different from the one he usually has

“You okay?”  

He’s quick to shake it off, “Yeah, come on, we’re going to be late for class.”

You guys were actually early, but you just brush it off as him wanting to be punctual

Shoto really wants to question you

But he doesn’t

Not outwardly at least

He’s thinking, “are they mad at me?”, “Did I do something to make them mad at me??”

He would do everything possible EXCEPT ask you what was wrong

The both of you walk inside the class and Shoto goes to your seat before you do and pulls out your chair for you

You’re surprised, it’s not like he’s never nice to you (though he doesn’t look it, he’s really nice) but you are perfectly capable of doing menial tasks for yourself

So you never expected him to do that, but you appreciated it nevertheless

“Oh, thanks Sho!”

His eyebrows crease

He hums in affirmation and gives a kiss to the top of your head before walking over to his seat

That’s when you know something is wrong

He wasn’t too keen on PDA 

So for him to nonchalantly kiss you on the head in class….was kinda fishy

Shoto can’t concentrate all that well in class now

Poor dude is wracking through his brain as to why you just called him Sho

WHY SHO AND WHY NOT BABY???

And now he’s pouting for the entirety of the class

Every time you look over at him he’s like >:/

ngl it’s really cute

You don’t ask Shoto what’s wrong until lunchtime rolls around

Well

You try to

When the lunch bell rings Shoto is like a man on a mission

He beelines toward you

If you hadn’t known what his quirk you would have thought it was super speed

Iida who?

Some of your classmates look at him weird 

This is just the image I get in my head lolol

Shoto: 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️   

Classmates:🤨

But he gets to you in like .5 seconds and he holds his hand out to you

He doesn’t even say anything to you, so you assume he wants to hold your hand

You place your hand in his but he surprises you when he pulls you into a hug

Thankfully everyone had already filed out of the class or else you would have been a burning bundle of embarrassment 

“Call me baby please.”

His mouth was right next to your ear and you could feel his lips move against it 

Your knees would have surely given out had you not come to a conclusion

You hadn’t called him baby the entire day and he was now clearly perturbed about it

There was one thing you really loved about Shoto, it was pretty easy to fluster him

And you see a perfect opportunity open itself up

Grabbing his face between your hands you pull him away from your ear and smush his cheeks together

“Oh my poor baby, I'm so sorry my baaaaby.”

A blush was quickly creeping its way up his neck

Which only encourages you more

Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded you

“Ok that’s enough….”

“But I haven’t called you baby enough times.”

“I’m going to eat by myself.”

“Wait!”

Bakugo

You did call Bakugo terms of endearment like babe, sweetheart, and the one you use the most, honey 

Bakugo claimed to dislike your nicknames, but he secretly really liked them

One day you and Bakugo get into a petty argument

I totally feel like you and he would fight over the smallest shit lmao 

And you’re not hanging around his desk before class like you normally do

You’re at Ashido’s desk obviously ignoring him

Which irks him, but that’s fine, he can ignore you too

But he can’t help but eavesdrop on yalls conversation

because Ashido’s desk is very close and totally not because he wants to hear your voice because he already misses it

“Why aren't you at his desk by the way?”

“Hmm, Bakugo’s?”

Oh this catches his immediate attention

He doesn’t even bother hiding his blatant staring at you from across the room

Since the both of you started dating not once have you called him Bakugo

It’s always been your cute gushy nicknames or variations of his first name

Mina already knows what’s up and wants all the details now 

She’s huddling closer to you, almost practically on top of your desk

But you never get to spill tea because the bell is ringing

But i assure you that Bakugou is giving you a hard side eye

Cuz he still needs to focus in class (he’s still a good student!!)

Lunchtime rolls around and he very discreetly walks next to you

“Hey”

You turn to look at him and just smile at him with your stupid cute face

He’s happy you’re not outright ignoring him

But he was at least expecting a, “c’mon Tsuki, i wanna get a good table!”

He brushes his pinkie against yours hoping you’d get the hint and hold his hand but nope

You pick up your pace and he sees you wrap your hands around Ashido’s arm, the both of you now animatedly talking

He would have found it cute if you weren’t hanging off of Ashido

That should be me by justin bieber starts playing

Bakugo is now internally raging inside at the lunch table

You would normally sit next to him but you're sitting across from him in between Sero and Kirishima

Man’s is literally stabbing into his food

everyone is now staring at his dramatic ass 

buy you're the only one who ends up making a comment about it 

"the food is already dead, i don't think you need to do that Bakugo."

he stops murdering his food 

he's had enough

He stands up forms his seat, goes over to a very confused you

Very gently, takes a hold of your wrist and starts dragging you up to the school’s rooftop

You’re questioning him the entire time

When you finally get to the rooftop Bakugo lets go of your wrist and just kind of stares at you

He’s silent for a couple of minutes looking like he’s going through a mental battle

Until he finally says something

Something that you can barely make out because he’s turned his head away from you and is grumbling

You: https://youtu.be/Y_3vk411ALE

“Bakugo what?”

There you go calling him by his last name again

“I said I’m sorry, don’t make me repeat myself!”

“Sorry for what??”

You can’t be serious

“For our argument this morning, the reason you’re calling me by my last name.”

“Oh.”

Oh?

JUST OH??

“I thought you were still mad at me so i wanted to give you space, i forgot about our argument way before school started.”

……

ATTENTION: TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE❗❗❗

Bakugo just sighs

He’s too tired to even get frustrated and just wants your attention

So he pulls you into a hug and buries his face into your neck

“Don’t ever do that again.”

You can practically hear the pout in his voice

“I'm sorry honey, i just wanted to give you space.”

“I don’t care about space.”

[jessmaybank]

My best friends brother series; Part 2 - Nothing good happens after 4am

Series masterlist

Outer banks masterlist

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Kook reader.

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: After doing your best to avoid him, tensions rise between you and Rafe at a kegger.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, SMUT, unprotected sex, Praise kink, Oral (f receiving), fingering, choking.

It’s been a week since you kissed Rafe at his house. The pain of your recent breakup seems little compared to the guilt that washes over you every day, knowing that Sarah would be so mad if she ever found out.

The day after, Rafe texted you saying that he’s not going to tell anyone about what happened. You were relieved to say the least, replying with a blunt thumbs up emoji. You haven’t spoke since.

You have avoided going over to the Cameron house, scared to face Rafe and his cocky self. The worst part though, was that even though you would never admit it, one kiss with Rafe had made you forget about your ex completely.

Instead, your mind was consumed in everything Rafe Cameron. The way his eyes would darken as he gazed at your own, the way his veiny hands would trace painfully slow circles on your thigh, making you so aroused. Even the way he-

“Earth to Y/N! What’s up with you” Sarah says, nudging your shoulder as you sit next to each other in class.

“Sorry, just daydreaming. Always happens when I’m tired” you lie. If only she knew you were imagining how her brothers hands felt wrapped around your neck as he pounded into you.

“Are you coming to the kegger tonight? It’s supposed to be the biggest one yet” she exclaims.

“That’s what they say every time Sarah” you scoff.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You can stay round mine after, I know what your parents are like” she replies.

Before you could protest, the bell rings to signal the end of the class, and Sarah shoots out of the class room. Shit.

Later that night, you were stood in front of the mirror checking yourself out. You decided to ditch your normal summer dresses and wear something a bit more…slutty. Instead, you settled for a tight pink satin dress that you borrowed from Sarah ages ago. If you were going to spend the night stressed out, at least you would look good doing it.

You got a lift to the party with JJ and the other pogues, your heart racing as your were anticipating the night to come. luckily, John b brought some drinks which helped you calm your nerves.

An hour into the party and you were actually having a really good time. Thankfully, it seemed Rafe and the others decided not to come.

That was, however, until you made your way over to the keg to get another drink. As you poured your drink, you felt a pair of hands snake their way around your waist.

“What the fuck” you say, turning around to realise it’s none other than Rafe, his large frame peering over your petite one.

Rafe’s bold move proved to be no suprise to you, he’s the type of person that when he knows what he wants, he takes it. And In this case, he wanted you.

“Missed me?” he says, a smirk painted on his handsome face.

“Are you crazy? What if someone sees us” you say, concern laced in your voice.

Rafe rolls his eyes as he retracts his hands from you, putting his hands in his pockets instead. You never knew someone rolling their eyes could be so sexy, but here he was.

As tempting as he was, and god was he tempting, your friendship with Sarah meant more to you than sex with some kook who would probably just fuck you once and then never speak to you again. You knew better than that.

“Rafe, listen to me. What happened last week was a one time thing, and a mistake. Just leave me alone, okay?” You protest, storming off to find your friends.

You hoped he got the message, but unfortunately your hopes were crushed when you received a text 5 minutes later.

Rafe Cameron: you look so sexy when your angry.

You scoff at your phone, which the pogues take notice of.

“What’s up?” Pope says.

You debate telling them everything, maybe they would understand?

“Nothing, just work. They’ve given me shifts all weekend” you lie, deciding you were in too deep to come clean now.

You managed to avoid him for the rest of the night, and when you and Sarah stumbled back to the Cameron house, you were thankful he wasn’t back yet.

You woke up in the spare room at about 4am, desperate for something to quench your thirst. You decided the only option was to tip toe downstairs and get a drink from the kitchen, surely everyone is in bed sleeping right now.

So that’s what you do. You wonder downstairs in one of Sarah’s baggy t shirts and drink what felt like a gallon of water. You were half way through your second glass when the lights flicker on.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone” you say, looking up at Rafe as he walks towards you. Your sleepy state making you more moody than usual.

“I don’t know if you forgot, but this is actually my house” he replies sarcastically with a small chuckle.

The blue eyed boy standing in front you represented everything you hated. Greed, selfishness and everything in between. So why is my heart racing right now?

You glare at his smugness, and try to shove past him to head upstairs. To your dismay, he stops you.

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a bad attitude” he tuts, removing the glass from your hand and setting it on the counter, before returning his hands to your waist for the second time tonight. He towers over you easily.

The answer to his question was no. Usually, your a very polite girl who hates confrontation. Rafe just brings this side out of you, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Your thoughts were interrupted as he pushes you against the counter, a small gasp leaving your mouth.

“I wanna fuck it straight out of you” he says, his blue eyes burning with desire.

“I can’t, i-“ your words were interrupted as Rafes lips met your neck, peppering light kisses and occasionally nipping at your skin.

That was all it took for your defences to come crashing down before him. You were completely and utterly burning for him. Maybe you didn’t have the self control you once thought you had.

Rafe grabs your neck and smashes his lips onto yours. This time, the kiss was anything but gentle. His tongue roamed around your mouth with want and need, and the passion was something you had never quite experienced before.

You pulled at his dirty blonde locks as your tounges fought for dominance, neither of you wanting to submit to the other.

Hungry for more, Rafe pulls down your panties and abandons them on the kitchen floor, before lifting you up onto the counter in one swift motion.

He peppers sloppy kisses down your neck and your chest, before reaching the place your burning for him the most, spreading your legs apart for him.

���So fucking wet for me” he hums, the flirtation in his voice sending waves throughout your body. Why does something bad always feel so goddamn good.

His tongue teases your clit as he peers up at you, watching the way your mouth opens and your back arches at his actions. The eye contact alone could make you cum right there and then.

He quickly inserts two fingers into you, the action making you cry out in pleasure.

He stands up as he continues pumping in and out of you, using his free hand to cover your mouth.

“Shh princess, wouldn’t want my sister to know how good I’m making you feel right now, would we?”

You shake your head, unable to form a reply as he hits spots in you no one else ever has.

“So good for me” he teases, watching your fucked out state beneath him.

You whimper as his fingers leave your core, which he chuckles at. He quickly removed his shorts and underwear, his cock springing out as your eyes slightly widen, gazing at the way pre cum was spilling out of him. He was a lot bigger than you imagined.

He wasted no time in pushing his pulsing cock into you. Your mouths both fall open as he fucks you, a string of moans and curses leaving you both at the overwhelming pleasure. his fingers entering your mouth to stiffle your moans once again. You can taste your arousal on his fingers, turning you on even more.

You don’t even care that anyone could walk down any minute and see him pounding into you, including Sarah. If anything, it’s making you want him more.

“Shit, Rafe” you moan, although your words are muffled by his fingers.

“So fucking tight for me, my good little girl” he says. The way your clenching around him has him feeling pure ecstasy right now.

He removes his hand from your mouth, bringing it down to your neck and squeezing before kissing you again. The kisses were sloppy, but perfect.

You can feel yourself starting to come undone as he fucks you into oblivion, the pleasure bringing you to a new high.

“Fuck I’m ganna-“ your cut of as your orgasm washes over you, your legs shaking as you bury your head in Rafes neck to stop your moans.

The way you clench around him sends Rafe over the edge as his hot cum spills inside of you, riding you through your high.

Yours and Rafes heathy breathing fills the silence in the room as he pulls out of you, resting his forehead against your own.

After a moment, Rafe breaks the silence with possibly the cockiest thing you’ve ever heard him say.

“See, the attitudes gone. All you needed was my cock inside of you” he whispers, his signature smirk returning to his tired face.

He leaves you there as he returns to his room, his cum spilling down your legs as you try to gather your thoughts.

What the hell have i just done.

[repentarium]

a waste of paint

read on ao3

“Just do your middle finger, Stevie, it’ll be, like, punk rock.”

“Right, because he is a beacon to anarchists all over the state of Indiana.” Max rolls her eyes, but Eddie is already tossing a tiny bottle to Steve. He tosses it back without looking at it. 

“You’re being a real spoilsport.” Eddie tsks at him and walks on his knees to sit at Steve’s feet. After a brief tug of war, he’s got Steve’s left hand secured and is using his teeth to unscrew the top of the bottle. 

“Waste of paint, man. I’m just gonna scrub it off.”

Eddie frowns at him smally, a tug down at the corners like he’s Thinking, like maybe he’s gonna shuffle back over to the girls, and Steve changes his mind with a sigh and shoves his hand closer to Eddie. 

El and Max are still over near the coffee table. Max is painting something rich and blue onto El’s fingertips and they’re chatting casually. Steve thinks it’s important they have this, something a little normal. El’s hair has grown out some since spring break, enough that she’s clipped a piece of bright plastic into it to keep it from falling across her face. She gets these headaches sometimes, and Max has glasses to help with her vision and a walking cast still on her left leg, but they’re here and they’re okay and they’re painting their nails. 

By the time he looks back down at Eddie, he’s finished a layer of golden yellow paint and his lips are pursed to blow gently across it. He looks up at him through his lashes and catches Steve looking back and smiles, and every part of Steve’s body is like electric-shock levels of tense.

And look, that’s normal , at least lately, at least for Steve. Normal to have to pull your eyes away from your pal, then look back as he starts painting again, the tip of his tongue poking at the corner of his lips just so in concentration.

All on the up and up, very above the board and even boring, maybe. A normal bodily reaction. Not a big deal. Cool as a cucumber. 

He’s talked to Robin about it - well, he’s talked around it in Robin’s general direction, he hasn’t jumped off the diving board per se, which is fine because there’s nothing weird here. Anyway, he told Robin that he thought Eddie was really cool is what happened if you want to know the exact details, and Robin said ‘Yeah, I think so too!’. So that was like proof that it was normal, you know. Everyone thought Eddie was cool. 

Steve is a liar. He is lying to himself. He does that sometimes, and he’s trying to get better about it, but it’s easier to not understand something than to dig into all the messy feelings. So the nail polish? He could have removed it, he maybe should have, but it’s like a physical something-or-other, and looking at it, or catching it on accident from the corner of his eye, gives him that same electric jolt he gets when he catches Eddie looking at him from across the room, or when he realizes the bell over the Family Video door ringing is actually heralding his loitering presence. 

Anyway, he’s a liar, mostly to himself, mostly for convenience, but this whole nail polish thing is wrecking it, it’s making it harder and harder to lie about it, even in the comfort of his own thoughts. 

He went on a few dates with Marie Thomas the summer before sophomore year, and she was like a vampire. She’d latch onto his throat and chew and it wasn’t like he wasn’t into it, but the real secret thrill was that he’d then catch the little bruises she left on his neck when he passed by the mirror. He hadn’t really thought he should cover it up, didn’t get why it was weird or whatever until Carol noticed on a Monday and started calling him a slut. He’d just liked that it was a physical and visual reminder that he had felt something, that he’d had a connection with another person. He liked pressing his thumb against a bruise and feeling the little bit of pain and he liked the way the purple bled out past the collar of his shirt as it healed. He and Marie didn’t last much into the school year, but he thought about the bruises sometimes. 

So looking at the yellow of the polish on his finger for the next few days and feeling that same thrill, like some kind of weird neon sign that flashed and told him ‘Eddie was kneeling at your feet the other day, remember? He was looking up with big eyes through his bangs and blowing gently on your finger and he was real and it happened’ as if some sort of hot and heavy backseat-at-the-drive-in action happened when it was truly something boring in a room full of people in his mom’s living room? 

It’s almost the same thing, really, and that feeling makes it harder to lie . 

By the time the golden-sunshine-yellow paint is chipping off the tip of his finger, he’s spiraling into a real conundrum of truths. It’s a Wednesday, and he is late to pick up Robin for work because he honestly truthfully spent ten minutes looking at the fresh chip in his paint. He’d been wondering if that was Eddie’s little bottle, if he’d had yellow fingertips like this before, or if this was from the girls’ collection. He’d been wondering if, if he went to the trailer park, Eddie would give him a touch up. If he’d sit at his knees while he did, or if they’d sit across from each other on his bed at the new government trailer, legs crossed and hands held like highschool girls holding a seance. 

It took the phone ringing to shake him out of it, Robin yelling at him for not being there yet. 

So it was toeing into his shoes, snatching his keys off the counter, and speeding to Robin’s and then to open the store. Busy with his body but his brain still whirring around with honest-to-god honesty. He liked Eddie, sure, but he also likes Eddie, the way he’d liked Marie Thomas or Nancy Wheeler or any of the girls he’d gotten handsy with. Pants feelings. 

And, maybe scarier, heart feelings. His terrible idiot of a heart whispers to him about how brave Eddie actually was and how kind he actually was and how good he actually was, how he treated the kids and how he nearly died to save the town that hated him and how he’d carefully held his hand and taken the time to do two coats of paint and to blow across the tip so that the sunny color looked Just Right and smooth even though Steve had (out of his mind, maybe) said he’d just wash it off. Like he’d been painting something special, maybe one of the tiny creatures for his game, instead of an ungrateful little jerk of a guy. 

It all has him itchy, tapping one hand on the counter and staring at the other, the truthy yellow of it all, while Robin complains about the shitty movie she’d chosen to throw on the tv. He knows that she knows that he’s in his head about something, they basically share the same head, and he’s grateful she’s keeping it light and surface level so he can dwell and hiccup over all the sticky stuff. 

The bell over the door rings, and Steve’s head snaps up (with hope, he recognizes the fluttery little wings of it and it’s like a carrier pigeon with a notarized message, the  contents inside enough to make him gulp) and of course it’s Eddie, he’s always around, especially on Wednesdays when the store is at its emptiest. Steve swallows again when he sees him, forces out a ‘Hey, man!’ and holds his hands steady on the counter, palms to the glass.

Eddie looks good, of course he does, eyes and teeth bright and sparkling and his hair backlit by the late morning light so it’s like a halo. He’s fizzy with energy, like he always is, and he comes up to lean against the counter directly across from Steve. Close, like always. In Steve’s personal space, like always .

“Hey yourself, man .” Eddie smiles at him and raps his knuckles against the glass. 

“Thank GOD you’re here, Munson, my brain is leaking out of my ears and Steve has been brooding and just so boring all morning.”

“Unfortunately, my dear Buckley, I’m on a mission today. I’ve gotta go out of town to get something for Wayne’s truck, so I can’t stay. Just wanted to check in with my adoring masses, a tough tour, you know how it is.” He raps again, and Steve’s eyes fall to their hands, Eddie’s rings clacking together and Steve’s sweaty palms pressed into the glass just an inch or so away. “Broody, huh? Run out of your fancy-boy hair gel?” 

Eddie frowns with pomp and drama and tucks his head down to make Steve look into his eyes, and he’s looking through his lashes again, just like when he was painting his nails. It makes him clear his throat, and clear it again, and think about Marie’s bruise on his neck, wonder if Eddie would bruise him like that, if he would rather Steve mark him up, and then he’s looking at the long line of his neck and the way it slides into the curve of his shoulder before it disappears into the stretched-out collar of his once-black shirt. He clears his throat again , and then, as if Eddie can read his mind (God no, please), he looks down at Steve’s hand and taps at the nail polish. 

“You need a touch-up, Stevie, that yellow is just falling apart. It’s called Sun Day, you know, that color. Two words: Sun Day.”

Steve hums at him and looks back at his hands again. Feels the ghost of the little tap he’d touched against his nail. 

“ Anyway , my friends and fellow freaks, I am a little overdue on this old thing.” He struggles into some hidden pocket under the flannel tied around his waist, turning his shoulders enough that Steve feels like whatever spell he’d cast is maybe broken and he can breathe again. 

He presses the plastic case onto the counter with what Steve just knows he thinks is his most winningest grin, but it only works because it’s created this silly stretched-out grimace that Steve finds charming, okay, it’s silly and it’s charming. 

“Fine! Okay, fine, you got it, what fees?” Steve shakes his head at him, one hand finally lifting from the counter to run through his hair and the other finding home on his own hip. He hopes there isn’t some sort of sweaty mark on the counter but he can’t look to check without showing his cards. 

“My everlasting thanks, sweet Stevie.” Eddie bows low and backs up a few steps, turns around as Robin says goodbye, taps the top of the door frame as he leaves and shoots a wink over his shoulder back at Steve. Steve stares too long, raises his hand in a wave after Eddie is already out of sight. 

Robin is snapping up Eddie’s returned VHS to rewind it; you’d think with his friends cutting him so much slack with the rentals he’d be-kind-rewind them at least, but he never does, and the worst part is that Steve doesn’t even care. He’s fully complained to many a customer with his arms crossed pissily about rewinding their spoils, but for some reason Eddie’s disregard is just another Cool Thing about his Cool Guy Persona. 

Something about that’s the final straw. When it crosses his mind, he crosses to the front of the store and flips the closed sign, locks the door, and turns off the display lights. By the time he’s turned around again, hands in his hair and his heart pounding in his throat, Robin is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t seem panicked, but Steve is starting to feel panicked, so he comes around the counter to lean next to Robin and then slides down to sit on the floor. It feels right. It feels even more right when Robin slides down the wall across from him and kicks her scuffed up Converse against his sneaker. 

She’s quiet and watching him with big eyes. It’s uncanny. 

He has a few false starts, big breaths and an open mouth before reeling in whatever he was going to say and snapping his jaw closed again. 

Finally, after minutes of Robin just Looking and Steve floundering and feeling warm, he looks at his painted nail for courage and just spits it out. 

“I like Eddie. Like I think I want to kiss him and hear about his day and touch his butt and stuff.”

“God,” says Robin, “of course you do. Have you seen the two of you dancing around each other? It’s like you pinball from middle school crush to old married couple and back again.”

Steve sputters. “You knew ? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Like that wouldn’t have totally freaked you out. You had to figure it out in your own time.” Steve would bet she thinks she looks wise, but to him she just looks constipated. 

“Well so. So what do I do? What now?” He’s chewing on the skin of his thumb, not the one who is neighbors with the Sun Day, he’s got enough presence of mind for that .

“What do you mean?”

Steve sighs in frustration and then his hands are tugging at his hair again, elbows balanced on his knees. “Is he even. Does he. What if he doesn’t like me back? What if he does ?”

“Breathe, Steve. He definitely likes you, he just thinks you’re straight ‘cause of, you know.” She gestures vaguely at him. 

“So did I.”

“Yeah, uh. Are you, like, freaking out?”

“I… don’t know. It snuck up on me. I just. He painted my fingernail.” Steve flips Robin off to show off the sad and chipped polish. 

“Yeah you showed me. Multiple times.” She has a pretty unimpressed expression on her face for someone who is supposed to be helping him. “ That’s what made you realize you liked his dork ass?”

“I mean, it was a series of things, I guess. I don’t know.” He’s looking at his silly fingernail again. “He’s really good. Like better than anyone maybe.”

Robin is gawking at him. “That’s not how you talk about girls, Steve. You haven’t mentioned his boobies like, at all.”

Steve groans and slides sideways to lay on the floor, sprawled out and looking at the cobwebs fighting to cover the overhead lights. Gross. 

“I’m sure his boobies are lovely, Robs, I just… wanna spend time with him, and listen to his weird stories and his weird music and look at his eyes when he talks about all the things he likes. And. Maybe he’ll like me like that too, you know? Like maybe he’ll feel the same way one day and I’ll be able to look at him and just know .” 

“Ew, you suck, Steve.” But her face when he looks is soft and caring. 

“Should I like. Talk to him? No. I don’t even know if he’s. You know.”

“You won’t know for sure until you talk to him, but I wouldn’t encourage you to talk to him if I didn’t think he was safe. And also like completely obsessed with you. But even if he wasn’t! He’s a good guy and he’s a good friend, you know. He’s not gonna be weird about it.”

“Hmm.”

Robin puts a hand on his knee and shakes it side to side. “Look at us ! You basically said you loved me and I’m still here, and we’re even closer than ever.”

Steve frowns at her, but he knows she’s right. Eddie’s a good guy, that’s the whole point.

“I guess I’m gonna talk to him.” Even saying it out loud to Robin like this makes him nauseous, makes his pulse pound, but she smiles at him in encouragement. 

“Yes! A great idea. You can turn on the old Harrington Charm, maybe-”

A pounding at the closed door and a muffled voice interrupts her. They both scramble to their feet, and Steve sees old Mrs. Burke pressing her face to the door, talking through the glass and shielding her eyes from the glare. 

“Coming!” Robin yells and darts to the door, lets her in and flips everything to open again. 

“You’re supposed to be open!” Mrs. Burke gripes. 

Steve mutters a ‘yeah, yeah’ and lets Robin take over. He’s usually fed to the Mad Old Lady Wolves but Robin loves him and lets him go sit in the breakroom for five minutes while she helps her find whatever romantic comedy she needs so badly. 

That means he gets to sit on the ratty old sofa and stare at the walls and wring his hands because it sure doesn’t feel like it’s as easy as flipping on some sort of charm switch. He’s got indigestion thinking about it, actually. 

And okay, the whole ‘King Steve “the Hair” Harrington, Master of Charm and Suavity’ was… a little bit of a farce, actually. It worked for him, but from an outside perspective, especially lately? Let’s just say it’s a little lackluster. Nancy told him one time, giggling in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings, that the reason he was charming was because he wasn’t charming, just sincere. That was after he successfully(?) charmed her with shotgunning the beer by the pool and before the big breakup, so that means something, right?

When the bell over the door rings again (Steve’s ears are trained to recognize it) he gets to barge out into the main room and say “Robin, do you really think I’m charming or are you joking?”

Luckily there’s no one in the store again, and he just finds Robin between the aisles pausing her restock to look at him with wide eyes. 

“I’m being serious, I’m having a crisis.” he continues when she doesn’t immediately respond. 

“Steve, buddy, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You’re a total dweeb.” It’s delivered with the gravitas of a doctor giving a horrible diagnosis, and it feels that way to Steve. “But!” she continues quickly when his face definitely flashes with the fall and the crash, “I have incredible news for you! I personally mean that as a term of endearment and, maybe even better, everyone you know is a dweeb, and ? Best of all? One Eddie Munson is maybe the biggest dweeb that’s ever existed”

Steve is still frowning. It’s kind of a lot to absorb, that the common perception of yourself is so… unsmooth. 

“You’re very sweet, Steve, and everyone likes you. Well, mostly.” Robin stiffly pats his shoulder. 

“Should I like, buy a leather jacket or something?”

“Steve it’s June. Also I don’t think you need to pull a Sandy Dee. Actually, please don’t. Just, you’ve got your whole… thing… and it’s maybe a little uptight? But it’s your thing ! You don’t wanna change for a person, you know, you’d tell me the same thing.”

“I want him to like me. Suddenly. Very badly.” 

“That’s the nature of a crush, Steve-o. It’s evil.”

“I need to go lay down for a few days. Maybe this’ll blow over, like…” he thinks and snaps his fingers, “temporary insanity.”

“Oh, honey. It’s been a while I guess, what with the world always ending, but I don’t know if you can sleep this kinda thing off. You probably have to talk to him.” 

He stands and stares and thinks while Robin putters around doing menial movie store tasks around him. It’s hard work, standing and staring and thinking, especially when he’s interrupted to take care of customers, so really it takes him the rest of the afternoon and all the way up through quitting time. 

It’s like he blinks and he’s pulling into his driveway, no memory of dropping Robin off. He shakes himself and turns the engine off, stumbles up his steps and through the front doors with legs that feel asleep and a brain that’s still all fogged up. 

It’s not even an Eddie is a boy and this makes him Different kind of freak out; that’s not it at all, he’s somehow leapt straight past that like hurdles in track and is standing facing a brick wall of but he’s Good and maybe you Don’t Deserve This . 

Steve knows he’s a lot, see, and he falls hard and fast, and Eddie is fun and light and not weighed down with all the guilt and anxiety and bullshit Steve’s dealing with; Eddie has his band and his game and his friends and he’s going to community college and working part time at a garage in town and figuring his shit out. Steve is working at Family Video (still), floundering his 20s away with no hopes or dreams or friends older than teens, and he also almost got a significant percentage of them, including Eddie , killed. Very recently, actually. 

Like Eddie is a glowing light and Steve is a cold dark box that puts lights out. Like he’s become his shitty, empty house. 

He’s still standing in his dark entryway, breath kicking up into something that’s sure to be a real doozy of a panic attack, when there’s a firm and rhythmic knock at the front door. He eyes the bat leaning against the wall (in case of emergencies), then flicks on the lights and opens the doors to find Eddie standing there, arms weighed down with bags and a hand raised to knock again. 

“Hey Stevie!” 

“H-hey? Hey, Eddie! What’s, um. What’s going on?” He tries to channel coolness, suavity, leans against the wall next to the open door and doesn’t almost fall. 

Eddie pushes past Steve without being invited in, typical behavior, and slides his wares onto the counter in the kitchen. 

“I brought us a feast.”

“A feast?” Steve’s stomach grumbles, reminds him he skipped breakfast and lunch, only split marked-out snacks with Robin all day. “What’s the occasion?”

“Kinda you are.” Eddie is unloading takeout containers from what smells like some Italian place. 

“I’m… confused.”

“Your birthday!”

“It’s definitely not my birthday, Eddie.”

“No, but we’re celebrating it today because I don’t know when it is.”

“That doesn’t make, like, any sense, man, my birthday was in April.”

“No, that’s perfect! I was probably recovering from the whole near-death then, so. Birthday.” He grins cheesily at him and Steve feels like all of his insides are scrambling to leave his body via a new pathway up his throat. “I hope you like pasta!”

“I love pasta.” Steve manages to mumble, and his feet move him towards Eddie on their own, his eyes snoop on their own, his hands pull out a stool on their own. It’s like he’s haunting his own body. Eddie is mumbling song lyrics and pulling out plates and dishing out pasta and salad like he belongs in his kitchen, like he’s more at home there than Steve has pretty much ever felt, and that combined with his day of Thinking and the snare of the stupid yellow polish on his nail that has him still feeling breathless when he says, watery and all in a jumble: “Eddie I think I really like you. Please don’t make fun of me.” 

He feels the panic on his own face as he just pauses. He didn’t mean to just say that, and now Eddie’s stopped, still as hell and facing away from him, carton of breadsticks lowered to the counter. He tries to school his face (cool, suave) as Eddie slowly, so slowly, turns around and leans against the edge of the counter, as he crosses his arms in front of him, but he just knows he looks like he’s seen a ghost or like he’s on fire because he still kinda feels that way. 

“You okay Stevie? You look a little. Well, you look a little freaked out.”

“I just, ah. I just mean.” He sinks fully into the stool, grateful it has a back to catch him because otherwise he’d end up on the floor for sure. His knees are basically on strike. He’s so warm. He keeps clearing his throat. 

Eddie is still looking at him with worry making the line between his brows creep below his bangs. He turns again to run some water into a glass and slide it across the island to Steve, who grabs it and makes himself sip mostly for something to do with his hands. But now Eddie is leaning across the whole island, pushed up onto his toes for sure, pushing into Steve’s space just enough that he knows he’s blushing. It makes him feel ridiculous because this is just Eddie, his friend, one of his best friends. Eddie who, god bless him, has never had a firm grasp on personal space and it’s never really been an issue before right exactly now.

Steve’s talking into the glass and avoiding Eddie’s eyes when he says, “I mean. It’s. I don’t think. I just. You don’t have to say anything. I’m, like, working through something.”

“Hmm. Did you mean it, Steve?”

Steve gulps again. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, I mean. I do. Like you. Like more than a normal amount. And it’s okay if you don’t, and I’m sorry if that’s not…”

“Stevie, breathe.” 

Steve can hear the chuckle in his voice and it finally makes him look up, which was a terrible idea, actually, because now he’s stuck again, caught on looking into Eddie’s stupid beautiful eyes as he laughs at him. “Please don’t laugh at me. This is. A lot.” Steve feels small and tiny and miniscule and he wants to go hide under the covers like when he was a kid and his parents were yelling. 

“Sweetheart. I am not laughing at you.” Eddie’s voice is firm through the grin that’s still there, and he reaches out slowly like Steve is a startled horse and lightly - lightly - touches the side of his face. It’s like walking through a spider web in the park if the spider web was cotton candy instead. “Oh my god. Steve Harrington, you’re such a dweeb.”

“That’s what they say.”

Slowly, to keep from startling him any more, he’s sure, Eddie leans further across the island, hand still on Steve’s face, and presses a gentle, feather-soft kiss against his lips. It’s nothing, really, not even close to the kinds of kisses that led to hands or bruises, but it’s like fireworks catching on all his nerves and he can feel all his hair stand up. It’s like superpowers and swimming and drowning, and he knows a little about all that. 

Before he can get his brain on the same channel, Eddie is pulling away with a soft pat to Steve’s cheek. Steve makes a very sad noise at the back of his throat and he knows he’s pouting but Eddie has turned away already, is humming again and grabbing plates and saying “Let’s eat some pasta, babe. I’m starving.”

He watches as Eddie grabs plates, balances a box of breadsticks on an arm, asks him to grab the Cokes. Steve grabs the bottles on autopilot, cracks the caps open on the counter the way his mother would kill him for, and follows Eddie into the living room where he’s seated on the sofa, plate in his lap and pasta in his mouth. 

He’s got a numb almost-feeling as he clinks a Coke down in front of Eddie and takes his plate, sits stiffly. His brain is sloshing around as he eats his spaghetti. 

“How are you normal?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over his Coke bottle. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

“I just mean. I guess I don’t know what to think. Usually people say something when you say you, well. Say you have feelings for them. Or…”

Eddie puts all his things down on the coffee table, no coasters, and curls his legs up onto the couch. 

“Stevie, I’m sittin’ right here with you. You don’t have to say or do anything, you know? I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. We can eat dinner, we can talk about it.” He shrugs a shoulder, totally not bothered.

They’re words, just words, and they shouldn’t strike him so hard, but his face feels warm and he still feels like his brain is spinning around, like he’s at sea. Eddie frowns at him. He seems to see how lost he is suddenly because in the next breath he’s taking everything away from Steve to put it next to his own stuff. He grabs his hands and tells him to breathe. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“You are freaking out. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m just.”

“It’s okay not to be fine. I think you’ve given this all a little more thought than I thought.”

“I’m serious, I was serious. I even told Robin. I think I, well, I know… I like you a lot. Like in a way I don’t usually like guys.”

“Oh. Wow.” Eddie is looking at him, and now he looks like he’s seen a ghost. Hands gripped, seance-style. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie, Stevie, I kinda thought you were just trying to say I was your… pal.”

“So you kissed me on the lips.”

“Pals kiss! And okay, cards on the table I guess, I know I feel a certain way about you , that’s not news to me. I wanted to do that for years, since even before you saved my life. I just don’t exactly expect any kind of… reciprocity.”

“Like?”

“Like you’re not gonna look at me and see me the way I see you .” By the end of the sentence his voice has fallen to a whisper.

And, well. Now Eddie is looking away and blushing and Steve feels a little more balanced, feels like this is something he can participate in. Not so much confidence, but familiarity, a comfortable sweater. “It depends how you see me, I guess, but I’m a little obsessed with you.” 

Eddie lets out a loud laugh in surprise and tries to pull his hands back but Steve flips them around so he’s grabbing Eddie’s hands and keeping them safe. It’s like holding small birds.

“No, stop. I mean it.” He’s picking up steam, pulling out the things he was turning over in his head all day. He mirrors Eddie, knees touching knees. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Robin’s tired of hearing about it. Being around you is easy, you make things easy, like it gets quiet even though you’re loud as hell.”

“Shut up, man.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not like, joking with me right? Because that happened sometimes in the hallowed halls of Hawkins High and gotta tell ya, not a fan. I’m not a good fighter and I like you too much to wanna hit you but I would be very sad , and-”

“Eddie, it’s not a joke.”

“-like, I just wanted to bring you dinner because it looked like you were having a bad day and we all know how that goes, and this is all feeling very weird actually-”

“You were so cool a minute ago, it made me think I was losing it-”

“-maybe I got into a horrible car accident and died and this is like the last firing of my synapses or whatever.”

“-but this is actually more of an Eddie response. Is this okay?” Steve is ecstatic, actually, this is going so well, way better than he thought, and he can feel the smile on his face as he reels Eddie in closer to him, as he plans to redo that kiss in the kitchen. 

“God, yes.” Eddie laughs, and then he shuts up as Steve presses his lips against his. 

And okay, it’s more teeth than it should be, what with all the smiling, and it’s a little garlicky from the pasta, but it’s Good in the way that all first kisses are but it’s Better because it’s with Eddie. 

By the time they get back to their pasta it’s cold but they’re still smiling and the little worried line between Eddie’s brows is gone completely. 

They’re laughing as they eat, and they’re laughing as they clean up, and they’re laughing as Steve stops Eddie at the door to pull him into another kiss, and it’s easy . 

When he goes to bed that night, he runs his thumb over the chipped yellow polish in the dark and he thinks wow, Robin was right , and he thinks oh no, Robin is going to be so annoying , but he falls asleep with a smile anyway. He has incredible dreams for a change, dreams where everything is all Sun Day Golden Yellow and cotton-candy-sweet and he has this dork of a guy next to him holding his hand.

It’s all pretty punk rock. 

-----

i have been on several work trips and am in the process of moving so i have been s l a c k i n g, esp here and on my longer fics, but i haven't abandoned them! This is an older short lil story i edited and posted when i couldn't sleep

xoxo

[writings-ofthe-heart]

(Mizu, BES)/(Reader)

- prompt: "Always give them the first bite of food."

Cw: None

Info: Reader is fem sorry, may be ooc, i tried. I love my woman so much this is self indulgent and motivated by my day one <3

Mizu walked. Like always, being followed by Ringo and his sister. You were quiet, but agreeable. Mizu only allowed you to follow because Ringo didn't want to leave you alone with your father. The sky weaned and the sun began to fall. Purple and black scattered to the East. Nightfall would arrive soon, Mizu thought absently. Her body ws always tense, ready to pounce on enemies, but her mind? Tranquile. Calm, it seemed like the soft, unmoving ocean.

You were only taken in by Ringo after being left on the noodleshops doorsteps. A cliche backstory, but what could you do? Growing up with Ringo was the best outcome of your childhood. Because of him, you had a certain joy within your aura. Despite the lack of speaking, socializing you did normally, you had good spirit. You were good.

The group set up camp. A fire was lit, courtesy of Ringo and you just looked around for sticks. A silence spread throughout the wintery forest. Mizu sliced the air, releasing an audible sound of her precision. You had stumbled across her, coming face to face when she cut down a tree with ease. You yelped.

"What are you doing here?" She grumbled. You shrugged, softly quipping, "Collecting sticks. What do you want to eat tonight?"

Mizu wondered why you even asked, "..." She rolled her shoulders, narrowing icy eyes behind her lens at you. "Anything is fine."

"Well, okay." You turned to walk away.

An hour after, you were all sitting around the fire as the pot simmered. You stood, grabbing small wooden bowls and scooping the soup into it. There were only two so you gave Ringo one and was about to hand the second bowl to Mizu when her hand stopped it.

"Drink some first. I can eat when you're done."

Confused as you were, you nodded slowly and sipped it. After half the soup was gone you refilled and slid it to Mizu who had dozen off, or at least that's what it looked like. She ate, and eventually you and Ringo fell asleep.

But this didn't just happen once. Another trip to Mihonoseki proved to be a habit of hers.

She broke a rice cake piece before even touching it and shoved it in your hand. Walking idly, you were startled and paused looking down at the crumbled, small piece of dry rice cake. Immediately you swallowed it, to be frank you weren't even hungry but, oh well.

Ringo knew something was weird with Mizu and his sister. First, he didn't pay mind because Mizu is just... odd in general. Not until the third instance where, Mizu not only offered, but refused to eat until you had taken a piece or a bite, did he start thinking more about it. His sister was pretty, he didn't try to disagree but you were oblivious to say the least, unable to see what's in front of you.

Mizu calmly set her chopsticks down. "Try it, I'm sure it's good but I can't risk being poisoned."

Another silly excuse, Ringo rolled his eyes digging into his own bowl of soba noodles. You sighed, dragging Mizu's bowl in front of you and slurping one, exactly one noodle.

"Tastes good to me, now eat! It's almost closed." You tried to hurry her. She seemed unfazed as now and only now Mizu began to eat the soba.

Ringo made an excuse to pull you outside while Mizu finished, (it was incredibly obvious and clumsy.)

"Hey. You must have noticed something weird with Mizu now right?" He holds you by your shoulders.

You purse your lips, "Um..? No.. If you mean her in general, well, I think that's just how she is."

Ringo exhales harshly. The cold wind making itself known in your ears. "No, her habit. Habit of making you eat her food first? Making sure "it tastes good?" Habit of randomly offering you her very first bite? Anything ring bells in your little head?" He grew more frustrated, practically shaking you.

You held up your hands, admitting defeat. "I thought it was just me!"

"You know, it seems oddly intimate for a person like Mizu." He noted. "You don't think..." Ringo gasped, loudly. Mizu appeared outside, her sword clinked as she looked around wildly for danger.

She furrowed her brows at you both, "Excuse me." Mizu walked back into the noodle shop.

"Mizu likes you." Ringo breathlessly, excitedly, exclaimed.

"What?!"

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

Heal - III

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader (female)

MASTERLIST

👣 Summary: Steve and the others return to the compound to find it in disaray.

Warnings: Descriptions of sexual assault and forced knotting/bonding, self-hatred, angst, vomit

Word count: 1,724

🫀Part II

That afternoon, the others returned. At first, nothing seemed out of place, and the Avengers went about their usual business unloading the quinjet and cleaning themselves up. But it was after that when things started to feel a little different.

It wasn't unusual for Bucky to be keeping to himself, so Steve wasn't expecting to see him instantly. After a few hours he checked the gym, expecting to find his old friend there, but it clearly hadn't been touched since he'd gone away. He wasn't overly concerned; he hadn't seen you either, and usually you were hanging around the living area and would normally have at least welcomed them all back and asked about what exciting things had happened on the mission. Sure, you weren't necessarily close, but it wasn't implausible that you had gone out for the day together.

Alarm bells didn't ring until a good few hours after their return, when Nat made her usual silent entrance into the kitchen where Steve was reading a paper and Bruce was ruining a perfectly basic pasta dish.

"Hey Bruce, did Y/N go out today?" She tossed an apple in the air absentmindedly and slid onto the counter to watch him fumble about the stove.

"What? Er, no, I mean, I don't think so. I haven't seen her. Clint might have."

"Clint might have what?" The inquisitive archer piped up as he entered room with burning ears.

"Seen Y/N today."

He shook his head with a shrug. "Now you mention it, I haven't actually. Or Tin Man, but let's be honest that's not exactly a surprise. He's not exactly Mr Social."

Steve rustled his paper and set it down on the table. "I haven't seen Bucky either. I assumed him and Y/N had gone somewhere."

Nat and Clint both looked over at each other and snorted as Bruce jumped into action as the water boiled over the sides of the pan.

"Together? I'm not sure about that Steve. But hell, you know the guy better than any of us." Taking a bite out of her apple, Nat pushed herself off the counter and made her way to the door. "I'll see if Y/N is in her room, that's probably the best place to start."

-

Whilst you were in your room, it wasn't quite the scene Natasha was expecting. Your curtains were pulled tightly closed, and you were curled up in the sheets shivering.

"Y/N? Hey, you alright?" She peered round the door, frowning at the strange odour that wafted around. You grunted, and she took that as a sign to come closer.

"Christ, you look like shit. You sick or something?' Concerned, she reached out to rest a hand on your burning forehead but you shied away.

"Er, yeah. Just a bit under the weather, but I'll be fine. How was the mission?" Despite the fever that had started to ravage your body, you pulled the duvet up around your chin as though to seek warmth.

"Fine, easy. Look, are you sure you're fine? No offence but it kinda smells weird in here...are you due a heat or something?"

You gulped and squeezed your eyes shut. Engaging in conversation was the last thing you wanted to do right now.

"Yeah I guess so. Got new suppressants, maybe I'm reacting badly to them." The lie came out too easy.

She nodded, not entirely fooled but not willing to push you. It might have been dark in the room but she could tell you didn't look your best and probably needed to rest.

"Okay, well I'll come check on you in a bit. Call if you need anything, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah sure. Thanks, Nat."

You waited until you heard the click of the door close before you rolled over and lurched for the bin tucked under your bed. Your stomach was beyond empty now and you thought that perhaps you were literally puking your guts up at this point, but it didn't stop the nausea from consuming you. You had no clue how much time had passed since you'd gone to see Bucky, but you knew the crew were due back that evening so it couldn't have been long. Most of that time you'd spent swimming in and out of consciousness, the fever slowly rising and the pressure in your head expanding. But it was the pain in your stomach that was the worst. Your body was craving your alpha's touch and suffering without it. Your weak legs were sticky with slick and your pussy was crying out for attention. Whenever you were conscious, you tried your hardest to satisfy yourself, but it barely helped. Orgasm after orgasm only relieved the pain for an hour or so, and each time seemed shorter than that before.

You knew what this was. You'd heard of it, but it was rare because when most omegas bonded with their alpha, it was part of something bigger and something meaningful. Sex was a huge part of that, and usually lasted for days after. A physical bond in your gland might be the sign of a bond, but it needed to be cemented with passion and knotting. For some omegas, just the first knot that accompanied the bonding was enough, but for most it took a few in the days after for the mark to settle.

Clearly, that was the case for you. Except you hadn't had Bucky's knot since the incident, and he certainly wasn't going to give it to you any time soon. Which meant the bond was starting to fade and your body was freaking out. Your hormones had dramatically changed the second you had been marked and now you were reliant on your alpha's knot to keep them in balance. Yes, there were suppressants to help for periods when an alpha and omega were apart for prolonged periods of time, but that wasn't exactly an option right now. So everything was going crazy and your body didn't know how to handle itself. Neurons were firing in all the wrong places, and your body was reacting in strange ways. Sometimes your muscles contracted into spasm, sometimes they locked and became rigid. And you guessed it was only going to get worse.

All you could do was ride it out. You couldn't exactly tell the others what had happened, or Bucky would be done for and you were hardly in a condition to defend him. So you just had to handle yourself until your body settled down and realised it wasn't going to get the knot it wanted and the bond faded. Seeing as you felt like utter shit, you figured it couldn't get much worse so you were probably at the peak of it. You could easily spend the day in bed claiming to be sick or having a bad heat, and in the morning you could try and talk to Bucky about what had happened.

In your delirious state, it never crossed your mind that the Avengers might question why he had locked himself in The Cube.

-

Bucky hadn’t answered any of Steve’s texts or calls, which wasn’t unusual seeing as neither of them had quite got to grips with 21st century technology. But his bike was still in the garage, and nothing seemed to be missing from his room, so Steve knew something was up.

He didn’t want to check The Cube, because he didn’t want his best friend to be there. If he was, it meant something truly awful had happened. But it was the only place he hadn’t looked, and if Bucky was there, Steve was sure he would need his support.

That didn’t stop his heart from breaking at the sight of his comrade.

"Oh man...what happened?" Steve was slow with his approach, but as soon as he heard Bucky whimper and his chest stutter, he knew he wasn't facing the Winter Solider.

"I fucked it man, I really fucked it." Steve could tell by the rawness in his voice that this was the first time he'd spoken in a few hours.

"Y/N..." it all made sense now. You hadn't been around the compound either that evening, and if Bruce and Clint didn't know what had gone on, that meant it had to be between you and Bucky.

Steve's oldest friend looked up at him like a lost puppy. His stringy hair was greasy and hung lifelessly, mirrored by his purple bags cushioning sunken eyes. Track marks ran down his cheeks from crying, but it was clear he was all cried out now. Sitting like this, curled up on the floor in the corner of an isolated room made Steve's blood feel like ice. He had vowed Bucky he would never be in this position again, and yet somehow here they were.

"What did you do, Buck." It was more a statement than a question.

"It was just a nightmare. Just like it always is. But you weren't there, Steve. And-and she was. And it felt so good, man. She was comforting, ya' know. I actually felt safe.

But I let it go too quick. He-he still had me in his grasp and he didn't want to let go...I don't know what happened, but I hurt her. I really hurt her Steve."

He really didn't want to ask. "Is she alive?"

The nod was small but it was there. That was all Steve needed to let the breath out he was holding.

"But I bonded with her. I forced myself on her. I marked her."

The silence that hung over the pair spoke a thousand words. Steve knew sometimes Bucky didn't know how to control his alpha side, and he knew that often the lines were blurred between the Winter Soldier and his innate alpha. So he knew how big this was.

"But it wasn't you, Buck. You were him, right?"

With a snort, Bucky turned away. "What difference does it make? The Solider is gone now, Shuri made sure of that, so whatever traces he leaves are just memories. You can't blame him anymore. Only me."

"We'll fix this, Bucky. I swear. But you can't stay here."

"Steve, I'm not leaving this cage until the bond has worn off. And then I'm getting as far away from here as I can, before I do even more damage. And you cannot stop me."

🫁 Part IV

Bucky Taglist

@elliebee01 @littlemiss-yeehaw @lolitsthings @missvelvetsstuff @spnexploration @justlovelifeblog @1-800-call-a-milf @raajali3 @broadwaybabe18 @vicmc624 @gostodosopa @kjah97 @sageandravens @kaz11283 @bucksdonkey @alright-i-guess @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @icequeen1371 @deandreamernp @almosttoopizza @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals

[aikoiya]

LoZ: LU - The Lantern of the Lost

I have this idea for an item that's been rolling around in my head for several years.

It's a dark blue/black frame lantern with a peculiar flame inside.

Like this:

The lantern has a tassel attached to the bottom with a silver bell, that when it rings, it draws in Poe Souls so long as they haven't taken on the form of enemy Poes. Those souls then join the flame until it is time for them to be taken to the Bargainer Statues.

The flame itself almost seems to pulse like a heartbeat.

Regardless, its design would have a definitive Sheikah influence. Not technologically, but magically & design wise. Even featuring a very ancient iteration of the Mind's Eye symbol, one with a very destinctly Depths script style design to it.

Something kinda like this:

(Obviously not done. There are definitely some mistakes. Also not sure which looks better.)

This is what I have so far.

Nowhere near done yet. I definitely think the lantern itself is too simple for what I want, but I'm liking the general shape of it at the very least.

Other designs could include Depths-style versions of the Shadow Medallion symbol & such things.

Anyway, when held by someone who hasn't unlocked said the Mind's Eye, it will merely act as an ordinary, if magically-powered lantern with an ordinary flame. Though, it will consume the holder's magic, just not very quickly.

However, it has to be the actual Mind's Eye. Otherwise, the flame won't be the one in the picture above & won't be able to house the Poe Souls. It doesn't work with the Lense of Truth or the Mask of Truth. There's just a different level & even quality of magic that runs through your 3rd eye when you have access to the ability itself that very simply can't be fully replicated artificially. Sure, the Mind's Eye can't literally see through chests the way the Lense of Truth can, but it has a number of other benefits that the Lense doesn't.

Something else is that the light from the lantern can essentially project the power of the Mind's Eye outward, thus allowing those around the holder to also see the spirits. Both living & dead ones. Not to mention passed illusions. You see, someone with the power can see the Poe Souls as people. Much like how the ghosts of Rhoam & the Champions appeared. Though, more wispy & most normal people only have a couple of those little green flames floating around them. It also allows those nearby to hear the Poe Souls speak.

Though the Shadow Soldiers are merely echos of the people they were. The souls of those soldiers have already moved on, but they were able to leave a bit of themselves behind. Their dying wish to protect Hyrule in whatever way they could is what allowed such shadows to manifest. One with the Mind's Eye & those near them while holding the lantern could hear the Shadow Soldiers too, but it'd be little more than whispers of what they'd been thinking & feeling at the time of their death. Their most desperate desire. The one that keeps such echos anchored to the Depths.

Which brings up something. The fact that a lot of the Links seem to have a tendency towards seeing, interacting with, or soothing spirits or ghosts. You think it's something to do with the Spirit of the Hero?

Either way, I'd really like to see a half-Sheikah Link using this lantern. So, maybe this could be a part of the Library of Nayru story.

Either way, I'd want whichever Link ends up with it to also learn the Song of Healing & the Song of the Sun for the sake of soothing the souls of the dead.

Of course, it wouldn't always work immediately. Sometimes, Link would have to help them finish something or talk to them about something. Though, in the case of Poes & Imp Poes having taken on enemy form, it'd require a bit more work. Specifically, "killing" them with either a Light or Twilight-based attack. Either from a spell or a weapon. Doing so will destroy them & leave behind both a Poe Soul & a few Dark Clumps.

Such methods also work on undead enemies, such as Stals, Redeads, & Gibdos, & corrupted enemies such as Wolfos, Bullbos, Vulpos (the Keaton enemies from MC), Iron Knuckles, Furnixes, ect.

In the case of the latter, it purifies them, turning them back to their original forms. And in the cases of the Keatons, Iron Knuckles, & Furnixes, you'll get something out of it. If not rewards, then information or quests at the very least later on.

In fact, I could see purifying a Keaton near the beginning of the game ending up being the linchpin to Link learning the Mind's Eye technique to begin with. Perhaps the Keaton even becomes the companion for this game.

Though, I can also see him getting on a lot of players' nerves, because I tend to portray the Keaton as wise & clever, but very mischievous (occasionally just outright demanding Keatonzushi & Keaton Udon). Having a distinctly Cheshire Cat vibe, though his questions always have answers & it's always something that Link is supposed to be able to figure out on his own. Aside from riddles, I also tend to see the Keaton as being fans of the Socratic Method.

By this I mean, that they ask a lot of questions, fully knowing the answers themselves, but also expects Link to be able to think for himself & thus use said questions as a way to force Link to think critically.

Despite this, they are also not shy in telling Link when he's done a good job & will always repay a favor in kind.

In a way, I suppose that I see this particular Link as the sort who genuinely enjoys things like puzzles, brainteasers, riddles, & the like. Also having that classic Hero curiosity.

LoZ Linked Universe Masterlist

[dawnslight-aegis]

19. weal

(cw for implied torture and general Vault-related awfulness.)

Grief hung heavy in the Fortemps household, an almost physical presence. Kaede endured it for as long as she could, but a bell before midnight she escaped out into the cold, desperate to be free of the guilt that choked and clawed at her throat.

Her steps took her away from the Pillars, through Foundation, and nearly to the city gates themselves before she could stop herself from running away. A part of her wanted to keep going – Haurchefant had been the entire reason she was welcome in the city, the entire reason she was safe, and now he was gone. She could simply walk out of Ishgard and return to the life she’d had before the Bloody Banquet. The temptation was there, to flee and to never look back.

Instead, she turned her steps towards the Congregation, the place still a hive of activity in the wake of the heretic attacks on the city and the chaos of the Vault. She drew stares as she walked through the halls, but no challenges – apparently dragging their Lord Commander from the bowels of Ishgard’s worst prison had earned her the right to pass uncontested. She had a mind to visit the infirmary – the act of cleaning wounds and changing bandages would do nothing to assauge her guilt, but at least it would be something to do. The first few rooms were empty, but the third open door she passed ground her to a stop.

Aymeric sat on the edge of the bed inside, papers dangling loosely from his hands, but he made no attempt to look at them. Exhaustion was writ plain in every line of his slumped shoulders, in the way his eyes were unfocused, trained on the floor before him, the blue irises all but swallowed by the dark circles that ringed them. White bandages wound around his broad torso, speaking to the extent of his wounds – though the fact that the last time she’d seen him, he could barely stand upright, had told her more than enough.

He did not look up until she had taken several steps through the doorway, his mind clearly far away. Kaede suspected they’d all left parts of themselves in the Vault, and Aymeric more than most.

His gaze found hers and he shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. “Kaede? Why are you –”

His normally smooth voice was rough with exhaustion – or perhaps overuse – and Kaede shoved aside the implications of that, refusing to think too hard on it.

“Shouldn’t you be at home, Lord Commander? Resting?”

Aymeric glanced down at the papers in his hand for a moment. “Perhaps. I told myself there was work to be done, but…” He sighed, the force of it traveling visibly through his entire frame, but the exhale quickly slid sideways into a hiss of pain as his shoulders flexed.

Raising her eyebrows, Kaede walked around to the side of the bed, heedless of the way Aymeric’s eyes followed her in surprise. Instead her attention was trained on his back, the gauze stained rust-red with old blood.

“These should have been changed a bell ago.”

“The chirurgeons have their hands full, and I am not in any danger,” he murmured, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice.

She waved off his protests as she collected a nearby basin of water, pot of salve, and roll of fresh linen bandages, secretly pleased at the glimpse of unbroken spirit. “Yes yes, fine. Just turn around and let me see.”

Aymeric hesitated for a long moment, looking at her with a strange, unknowable expression, then slowly nodded and turned his back to her.

Settling on the edge of the bed next to him, she wordlessly unwound the soiled dressing, carefully peeling it away from the gashes and weals left by whip and blade. Horror settled in as she saw fully the ruined mess the inquisitors had made of his flesh, and gods, it wasn’t as if she needed another reason to bury her sword in Thordan’s black heart, but he’d seen fit to give her one, regardless.

Kaede quickly yanked her mind off of that path, instead devoting all of her focus to keeping her hands steady and her touch light as she washed his wounds with clean water and liberally covered them in salve, mindful of every quiet sharp inhale or suppressed twitch of pain.

He did not speak until she had finished carefully securing the bandages in place, murmuring a quiet “thank you, my friend,” into the cool night air.

Four simple words, containing a bottomless well of nameless emotion, which made it clear that he did not mean them merely for the dressing of his wounds.

‘Twas for his benefit that any of them had set foot within the Vault, after all. A fact that doubtless caused him no end of guilt and pain, but that she could do nothing to absolve him of, burdened as she was by her own. But neither would she lay any blame at his feet.

She stood and took a step back. “You’re welcome. See that you get at least some rest, Aymeric. I fear you’ll need it.”

Moving more easily than he had before, Aymeric turned, eyes fixed on her as if searching for something. After a moment, he nodded. “We all will.”

At his words, her mouth twisted – normally she would stay either in her guest room at Fortemps Manor, or the inn room she had reserved with Marzanna, but one lay beneath a heavy cloud of despair, and the other consumed by a storm of guilt-fueled rage. Kaede was certain that tomorrow, one or the other would stir to life in the icy numbness of her heart, but she had no wish to hasten the process.

Aymeric’s grief was quiet, aimed inwards in a way that did not make her want to scream and rend flesh from bone, but his presence grounded her against the temptation to sink into her own thoughts that solitude brought.

Perhaps her own could do the same for him.

Instead of leaving, as she’d intended, Kaede plucked from the bed the paperwork that Aymeric had put down earlier, relocating it to a distant table as he watched, mystified.

“What, may I ask, are you doing, my lady?”

With a disaffected toss of her braid over her shoulder, Kaede pulled a chair near to, but not next to, the side of the bed. She settled into it, arms crossed and leaning against the wall before she answered tartly, “Ensuring that you rest.”

Aymeric tilted his head, eyes narrowed as if he meant to protest, but the longer he studied her, the more his expression softened, until he finally summoned the wan ghost of a smile to his face and laid down on his stomach. Almost the moment he was settled, his breathing deepened and evened, exhaustion bearing him away as soon as he relaxed his guard for even an instant.

Stifling a jaw-cracking yawn, Kaede allowed herself to be lulled to sleep by the quiet sound of it, holding the depth of the ache in her heart at bay for just long enough.

Tomorrow she would set aside a broken shield and take up her claymore in pursuit of vengeance, but tonight, she would take what rest she could find.

[iinuyashaa]

“For Your Own Protection” Chp. 1

(a KohRin + slight SessKag series)

The wind whirled through Sesshomaru’s hair as he soared just beneath the cover of clouds towards the village of Edo, and the Lord of the Western Lands was quietly grateful for the breeze that lapped against his skin as he flew. The summer season had been unusually hot and sticky, the air annoyingly clinging to one’s skin should they decide to make a now seemingly perilous journey under the sun and outside of the shade provided by one’s hut. Despite his historically high tolerance for discomfort, even Sesshomaru could admit to himself that after a day’s travel, there was nothing more he wanted to do than rid himself of his robes and hurl himself into the nearest spring to wash the invisible grime of the day off his being.

No matter, he reconciled to himself, blinking his eyes and tilting his head downwards to once again focus his gaze on the land far below his feet. There was no time for musing about the heat— he had a mission to carry out. Inhaling deeply, his expert nose picked up the scents he was looking for: cooked meats, spices and herbs, and, well, human sweat. And his half-brother. He didn’t know which smell to grimace at more. Yes, he was on the right path. Edo couldn’t possibly be too far from him now.

His intuitions were correct. It took Sesshomaru but a few more minutes until he began his descent into the village, working diligently, as he glided to the ground, to dismiss the narratives of loathing that danced in his mind about the precious manufactured breeze slipping away from him and the sights, sounds, and smells of the village inevitably beginning to assault his heightened senses. The sun hung high in the sky, and he could hear the insects singing in the grass around him as his feet gracefully met the earth. Rolling back his shoulders under his heavy armor, Sesshomaru furrowed his eyebrows. When did he become so accustomed to whining like a pup? It must be the heat.

Or you’re becoming grumpier as you age, a voice eerily akin to that of the shikon miko, with a confidence so unusual for a woman in this era to have in speaking to a being of higher status, teasingly whispered in the back of his mind. He blinked, rejecting the notion. No, it was certainly the heat. He almost paused to wonder why the voice had sounded like…

Sesshomaru closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Deciphering that will have to wait. I have matters to attend to.

He wasn’t afforded much time to scan his surroundings before a shorter figure clad in purple robes barreled through the reed doors of a hut to his right with a shout, making his head turn towards the commotion.

“Lord Sesshomaru! You’ve returned!” Rin practically rejoiced, her arms outstretching towards him and voice ringing with a tone of glee that reminded him of the sound of summer chime bells ringing on the many human temples he’d passed on his travels. Sesshomaru turned to face her, catching her shoulders just before she could slam into him with what he had been previously informed was called a hug. Truth be told, even after years of having her under his care, he was still becoming accustomed to the reality that humans felt far more inclined to hug their loved ones in a warm embrace upon meeting. Such a display of affection had not happened during his childhood, at least. As if instinctually, one of his large hands found its way to the top of the girl’s head, gently resting there as she smiled up at him. If one was watching intently enough, they would notice how his normally ambivalent expression faded away, his gaze softening and his lips tugging into a small smile as he looked at the smaller, more cheerful form beside him.

“Rin… It’s good to see you. Are you well?” he asked, already knowing the answer. It was almost a silly question. Of course she was doing fine. He wouldn’t have allowed her to reside here in the village if he didn’t trust the human adults nearby to care for her. Regardless of his typical disdain for Inuyasha, Sesshomaru knew, deep down inside, that his half-brother would be at the ready to defend his precious Rin at a moment’s notice should the need arise. It was one of his younger sibling’s few redeeming qualities.

“Oh, yes! I’ve been well. Kaede-sama and Kagome-sama have been teaching me all about herbs, salves, potions, spices… I even learned how to fix broken bones last moon! Did I tell you that I’m thinking of becoming a healer? With a couple of more years of training, Kaede-sama says that I’ll…” The young girl’s voice prattled on excitedly, draining out into a sort of muffled background noise as he looked down at her, watching his adoptive daughter’s hands flurry about as she explained something. Admittedly, he didn’t hear much more of it. As he looked at her form, Sesshomaru felt a wave of… Sadness? Regret? No, those weren’t exactly right. It was something more akin to a sense of fleetingness.

How much had she grown since he’d last seen her? It had only been, what, seven moons? She was certainly taller now, and her kimono needed tailoring, as it was now climbing up her shin. Not scandalously, of course, but enough to where he noticed. He’d have put that on the list of things to inquire about—if there was any seamstress in the village, he could pay to have it adjusted. Or just buy a new one.

Perhaps that’d be easier. A new kimono that isn’t drenched in sweat from the heat would probably make her feel more comfortable. I will set aside some money, Sesshomaru mused to himself, continuing to analyze her.

Rin’s hair was a darker shade of brownish black now, and her cheeks were no longer as full and rosy and, dare he recall how the miko had once cooed, squishable, as they had been when she was a younger child. Her once cheeky smile, dotted with empty spaces where teeth would one day grow, was now full of dull, adult human teeth that made up a welcoming, gentle smile. Sesshomaru understood that she was sixteen years of age now… but that didn’t mean he wasn’t somewhat startled. Rationally, he knew full well that humans progressed through aging at rapid-fire speed compared to youkai. The demon lord had just never been an eyewitness to the process until now.

An even darker realization soon sprouted in his thoughts, a macabre reminder of his true reason for visiting the village.

If anyone… or any remotely powerful demon… were to attack the village, she’d almost be the perfect prey. Young, beautiful, and practically defenseless. There are those in the lands who would take advantage of her in the most horrific ways possible if they had the chance. I would hunt anyone down and kill them as revenge, of course, if they so much as looked at her in a defiling manner… But it’s still an unsavory thought. This cannot continue, especially with the rumors… The thoughts tugged and swirled around one another in his mind in a sort of torturous dance, causing his expression to sour.

Unbeknownst to Sesshomaru, Rin had slowly ceased her chatter and watched inquisitively as her lord’s eyes narrowed to gaze towards the dusty traveler’s road in the distance behind her. The teenager knew what that meant: her protector was deep in thought. She decided she could tell him more about her studies later. Just as Rin parted her lips to chirp an invitation inside and fill the momentary silence, Sesshomaru looked down towards her again, cutting her off.

“Let us not stay in the heat any longer, Rin. Is that elderly miko here? I must speak with her.”

Rin nodded her head, lifting her hand in the direction of the one-eyed miko’s hut. “Yes, Kaede-sama’s just inside. The others are here too! Ah, you’ll get to see almost everyone!” She nearly squealed out in response, turning on her heel to lead him to the dwelling. One could have joked that Sesshomaru almost followed obediently. How the tables had turned indeed—anything for him to escape melting under the sun.

Leaning forward so as to duck his way through the small entranceway of the old miko’s home, the crackly, hoarse voice of the one he knew as Kaede met his ears as she straightforwardly greeted him. “Lord Sesshomaru… Welcome to our village. What brings you here this time?”

The demon-slayer siblings, sitting adjacent to the shikon miko, looked up at him in mild surprise. Kagome, however, sent him her usual small, polite smile and greeted him on behalf of her sitting companions. “Yes, Sesshomaru-sama… It’s good to see you. I hope your travels weren’t too tiring.”

Sesshomaru paused. The boy and his older sister were here as well, hm? Interesting. And potentially useful. Rin rolled back and forth on her feet as she stood next to him, sending quick glances between himself and to the boy who had traveled with him before, Kohaku.

“I have come to discuss something urgent. Is the half-breed around as well? What of the monk?” Sesshomaru question, his voice setting a more serious tone for the conversation as his eyes scanned the room.

Kagome and the female slayer – Sango, Sesshomaru reminded himself – both nearly laughed, already knowing who he was referring to. They routinely wondered when the dog demon would finally come around to calling them their actual names. Sango spoke this time, “Inuyasha and Miroku are both out on a mission. A nearby village has been having some trouble with a boar youkai going on a rampage against the farmers and their crops.”

“Sounds inconvenient.” Sesshomaru curtly replied as he glanced across the room. Why was the slayer boy trying to hide his smile towards his ward? Did he think he was coy?

“Well, before you tell us the news, would you like some fresh water, Lord Sesshomaru?” Rin piped up in question, gently tugging on the robe covering his left arm and diverting the dog demon’s attention to her once more. Under normal circumstances the demon lord would have refrained from nourishing himself in front of others… But his dry throat told a different story. He quietly nodded to Rin. “And please, sit down!” she added, motioning him to sit. Sesshomaru buckled, as usual when it came to her, trying to plop down on the dirt floor beneath him as regally as possible.

All eyes were on him. “So,” Kagome began, easing everyone into conversation as she had almost always done, “What rumors do you have for us today? It must be serious for you to visit so unexpectedly.”

“Four moons ago,” began Sesshomaru, “I had heard whispers of a band of demons and humans nearly one hundred strong working together to raid human villages in the east. I didn’t think much of it before— it sounded incredulous at the time. Humans and demons collaborating to pillage? I brushed it off as nonsense.” His companions patiently soaked in his words, waiting for him to continue.

“Yet days ago, along the border between the west and east, I found three decimated villages filled with rotting corpses, all violated in a myriad of ways on the eastern side. Some were obviously carved apart using claws; others were sliced with swords. The women were defiled in ways I care not to speak of. While I cannot say with complete certainty that humans were the aggressors, I certainly scented the remnants of demon kind. And humans that were still alive. My instinct tells me not to disregard this.” Sesshomaru silently acknowledged Rin with a glance, who had gently placed a teacup filled with water in his open hand. He took a sip, relishing the cool liquid on his tongue.

“Given these rumors and my findings, I have made the decision that I’m going to remain here in the village for the next moon to keep watch in the event that they decide to cross the border.” He looked over at Rin who – to his surprise – had moved to sit next to the demon slayer boy. Sesshomaru’s eyes narrowed at the sight. Why wasn’t she sitting next to him? “Rin, you and I will be training together in the morning every day. Fighting. Self-defense. As much as I can teach you.”

Rin’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “T-Training? A-And you’re living with us?” The words stammered out of her mouth in surprise.

“Do you believe me to have misspoken, Rin?” Sesshomaru questioned, setting the cup down in front of him.

It was Kaede’s turn to join the fray of conversation, her voice croaking in protest. “Nay, Lord Sesshomaru. That won’t be happening.”

His head quickly turned to glare at the old woman who was on the path to quickly being filed as ‘old hag’ in his mind. “Rin is focusing her studies on healing, and she’s excelling wonderfully. She may not have any spiritual power as a miko, but she’s a talented healer. I can’t have you pausing her studies for training how to fight—not when you’ve never taught her anything before and there are so many others here around her that are more than capable of defending the village. Besides, where would you reside? We have no empty huts for you.”

Sesshomaru’s lip nearly curled in irritation. He hated being questioned. What he despised even more was some wrinkly miko pointing out something that he knew he should have done much earlier.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve decided this is best for Rin, and it will be happening. That is final.” Sesshomaru countered, the tone of his voice demanding acquiescence. “I will take care of my own accommodations. I do not need a home in the traditional sense.”

An irritatingly familiar voice boomed from the doorway behind him. “If this were such a big deal, why didn’t you take the band out before, huh? I thought you could handle hundred demons or so easily.” Sesshomaru nearly rolled his eyes. This is becoming more troublesome by the second, he grumbled internally.

The elder dog-demon shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, not even looking at this nuisance half-breed of a brother behind him. He heard the shuffling of Inuyasha’s fire rat as his sweat-drenched form sauntered into the room. The monk followed closely behind, settling next to his wife. That trademark, faint, all-knowing smile – the one where it seemed like the perverted monk knew something you didn’t know – crept onto his features. It irked Sesshomaru.

“The bloodshed was not occurring on my territory. Why should I be bothered? Only fools like yourself would go out of their way to intervene,” Sesshomaru stated coldly in response, meeting eyes with Rin. She looked troubled at his words. For a split second, the mighty youkai lord felt himself hastening to review the sentences in his mind once more, wondering what he had said to make such a painful look pool in her eyes. It came to him within a moment.

I suppose I did intervene when it came to Rin.

“Keh,” Inuyasha spat under his breath, crossing his arms across his chest. “Do whatever you want. I’m a little annoyed that you don’t think we can’t handle something so basic as a band of raiders.”

An unexpected voice shot into the discourse. “I’ll help train Rin.”

Sesshomaru, along with all of the other heads in the room, turned towards the younger of the siblings as he stood up. Kohaku. Sesshomaru arched an eyebrow. “You?” He shook his head, nearly chuckling. “No, that will not be necessary.”

“I actually think that’s a wonderful idea!” Rin exclaimed, and Sesshomaru’s eyes, if one was watching carefully, nearly widened. What was this madness? “I can learn from two of the best fighters I know… You, Lord Sesshomaru, and Kohaku. He’s become even stronger since you last saw him. He even fought off a bear youkai all by himself a few moons ago…” The teenage girl prattled, the saddened expression across her face just moments ago wiped away with expectation.

“I’m right here, you know.” Inuyasha griped, receiving a stern look of exasperation from Kagome at the thought of him being offended by Rin’s comment about battle prowess of all things.

Before the taiyoukai could even get a word in, the monk interjected.

“I don’t think that would be completely unwise, Lord Sesshomaru. She’d be exposed to a more diverse array of weapons, fighting styles, and techniques… She would even be able to spar with someone roughly her age and size.”

Sesshomaru didn’t like this feeling. Somewhere under the robes covering his arms, his knuckles flexed. Gods, if I could strangle the monk right now, I would, he thought to himself. When it came to the size of a sparring partner, though, the monk did have a point. It was important for those training to face practice foes that were large and small, a true emulation of the battlefield.

It seemed like the world stopped turning as all eyes looked to him for his decision. He looked once more at Rin, succumbing to the realization that if allowing the slayer boy to participate in her training made her more enthusiastic to learn crucial life-saving skills…

“Fine.” Sesshomaru rumbled, looking at the pair. “We begin tomorrow in the nearby meadow at dawn. Don’t be late.”

----

As night fell, Sesshomaru leaned against the thick willow tree outside of the hut owned by the old miko, looking up at the moon above him. He needed time to think about how best to introduce Rin to this world of weapons and war and fighting, and the summer night’s breeze was perfect weather for doing so. The dog demon certainly never thought that going to such great lengths to shield her from these subjects would potentially handicap her one day in the future. A sudden ache, deep inside, flashed across his chest when he thought about the tiny Rin he had found ravaged by the wolves or, in another universe, her being a small child and sloppily waving a sword around against an adversary. He didn’t care for either image— the murdered child or the child soldier.

Inside, he felt… torn? Yes, that was the right word, he supposed. As her protector, daresay her father-figure, there was nothing more Sesshomaru felt inclined to do than to be there, ready and waiting, to exterminate any possible threat that his Rin could encounter. He knew he could handle it. Despite the younger miko’s – oh, he was really acknowledging it, now – teasing voice in his mind, he knew he was not geriatric enough to be unable to protect her. Sesshomaru knew it would be no problem… when he was near. But what if one day he wasn’t so close by?

She was getting older, growing into her own. Rin was bound to one day push against the boundaries he’d set and run off into mischief, no? What if she found herself alone in the woods picking herbs… Or traveling to a nearby village… Any she was attacked by someone? Or if the raiders came on a day where the usual protector group – his half-brother, the miko, the monk, and the slayer – were out? He couldn’t possibly hover over her all her life. The scenarios flashed in his mind, one after another. These were dangerous times. She was his ward. It was his duty to make sure she was protected in any possible scenario.

More than anything, as much as it conflicted him to admit it, he didn’t want her to entirely rely on any single male – including himself – for protection. Sesshomaru knew that he needed to equip her with at least some degree of fighting skills. It was for her own good, just like encouraging her to live in the human village was. He’d made wise decisions as her protector before, no? Surely this recent decision would be beneficial too.

The scent of the miko – the younger, thankfully, not the older – suddenly wafted its way to his sensitive nose. Looking towards his left, he watched Kagome walk towards him, a basket of herbs perched upon her hip.

“Good evening, miko,” He began, curious at himself why the words came so freely from his lips. Kagome smiled, waving her hand as she responded, “I hope I’m not interrupting. You seem lost in thought. Want to talk?”

“Hn.” Sesshomaru didn’t know about that. Did she not know he was not one to discuss such private matters so freely?

“Alright,” She continued, flipping a lock of black hair behind her shoulder, “I’ll do the talking then. You seemed pretty tense in there earlier… So, I wanted to check on you. Offer some reflections, too, if you’ll take them.”

Reflections? The dog demon’s ears nearly perked up at this. Yet he stayed silent.

“I have a feeling your sudden concern for Rin’s safety isn’t because you don’t trust us to take care of her. You just… want her to be able to rely on herself more. For her own protection. Am I thinking in the right direction?” The priestess prodded, arching an eyebrow at him. He glanced at her, not yet wanting to respond.

“If it is that, then I applaud you. You’re doing what any parent should do: help their child be more self-sufficient and give them the skills they’ll need for life instead of coddling her. I can imagine it’s a little scary, though.”

“It is not scary. I fear nothing.” Sesshomaru countered, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead. Kagome joined his gaze towards mountains across what must be countless kilometers of meadows.

“Uncomfortable, then,” Kagome corrected. Sesshomaru paused.

“Perhaps.”

“I was in a similar situation with Shippo not too long ago… When we were battling Naraku, even the idea of leaving him on his own while we fought was agonizing. He wasn’t very good at fighting or even that skilled in trickery back then. I was always worried that if I or someone else weren’t right there with him, he’d be hurt somehow.”

At the feeling of a warm hand reassuringly resting on his upper arm, Sesshomaru looked down at the woman beside him in surprise. First hugs. Now this? Touching him? These humans… He admonished himself for becoming too informal with them. Though, he did not feel any urgent pressure to remove her hand.

“You’re doing the right thing. That’s all I want to say.” Sesshomaru listened intently, nodding his head to acknowledge her words. Though he didn’t give a verbal response, Kagome somehow understood that he appreciated the sentiment. Suddenly, the miko blurted out a rather unrefined, yet utterly authentic, laugh. His eyebrow arched.

“What, miko?”

“Kagome,” she insisted, brushing a tear away from her eye as began to laugh harder. He stared at her incredulously. “Call me Kagome. But on the real note—I’m laughing because I just realized you were suckered into letting Kohaku train with you both. That should be entertaining… He… He must be terrified!”

Sesshomaru pursed his lips. Why would the boy be? He’d traveled and fought with Sesshomaru before. It’s not like he was going to hurt the young boy.

“Now, why is that?”

Kagome looked up at him head on, eyes gleaming under the starry night.

“Because… It’s so obvious that they are in the thralls of puppy love!”

Sesshomaru stared at her with a blank expression.

Puppy… what?

———

[*All characters belong to the great Rumiko Takahashi! Please enjoy some KohRin. I’ve been obsessed with this ship lately as an act of rebellion against what we were given in HnY… But I’m also a sucker for some sesskag, so there might be some sprinkling of it in here, too. I love the idea of Sesshomaru (like any other dad) struggling to come to terms with his daughter entering a new phase of life and his place in it! He’s treading new waters. I’m not for sure how long this will end up being… Nonetheless, please enjoy!]

[muertarte]

TIMING: Last Night

PARTIES: @lukas-dark-miracles & Los Sombras

SUMMARY: Los Sombras go looking for leads at the Bloody Stake, and Lukas gets a bloody nose when prodded for answers.

WARNINGS: None

Well, well, well…looks like the janky town their master had led them to actually held up to the rumors. Bars catered to specific types of people, clubs where humans are welcomed but not obligated to exit, and a cafe that had found the right balance of coffee and blood. It was a dream come true to Lorena. She hardly wanted to keep focus, continue the mission Master had sent them out to complete. All of it seemed so stupid in comparison to what the town could offer the clan. Why focus on a traitor when you could use the power—Lorena felt a twinge of pain in her head, akin to the pinches on her bicep she’d receive from her mother when she was misbehaving. Insubordination, Master would say.

She breathed, apologizing profusely in her head to the man she was in debt to, that everyone was in debt to. Master Jesus had saved them all from the power vacuum created when Master Eloy was wrongfully assassinated. Grief still held onto Lorena, who had only been a vampire for a handful of years by the time the coup was engineered and fully realized right before her angry and fear-filled eyes. Master Jesus had every right to chastise her in her head, she knew this. They had to retrieve the traitor and bring justice to all the crimes they had committed.

Warmth spread over Lorena and she knew her Master was happy with her renewed focus. She pushed open the doors to a bar, The Bloody Stake (which was an amazing name, if she was honest), and signaled for the rest of her party to fan out. Two were meant to secure the exits, and three were crowd control. As for her? Well, Lorena was very good at persuasion.

“Listen up!” She waved everyone’s attention to her, “We’re looking for someone named Metzli Bernal. Does that ring a bell for anyone?”

It was harder staying home lately as She was going through the change. It wasn’t that Lukas wasn’t sympathetic, nor did it mean that he didn’t take care of her either, but more so she didn’t like him around at times. Throwing things - telling him that she was angry and to leave - telling him to come back - was a bit too much for him. So, when he had made sure that she was taken care of, he had come out to work on some of his projects as the night was finally coming around. He was sure that by the time he got back, that she would be back to her normal poised self. 

He at least wanted to think that, and right now he was sipping whiskey and blood hoping that he could have a quiet night. It didn’t seem like he was going to get it, something stirring in the back of his brain before he could really consider what was happening. 

It took him a second to move, as he realized that something was actually wrong and he wasn’t being paranoid. After all, Lukas wasn’t that old for a vampire - and hardly a fighter - but Lizzie had meant to keep him alive. So when he saw people moving quietly out of the corner of his eyes towards the exits blocking them, he put down a fifty on the bar going to stand to leave the bar until he saw someone waving for attention. 

God above, this was going to be a bad night. Turning towards her he didn’t breathe for a second, and then realized he didn’t know who they were asking for. Crossing his arms, he decided to try and figure out what was happening.  Looking in the crowd then Lukas wondered if there was someone who knew this Metzil, and if so if they were going to rat the person out. He shouldn’t care, but well something in him wanted to know himself.  

The crowd mumbled amongst themselves, some of the bolder vampires taking to hissing and growling at the threatening group. Lorena rolled her eyes like an annoyed teenager, throwing her head back with an even more annoyed groan. None of the idiots in the bar had any idea who they were messing with. Master Jesus could have their heads in an instant, but Lorena knew better than anyone that he had more important matters to attend to. Lowly servants like her had to get their hands dirty instead.

“Chavos,” She began, flicking her hand at the vampires attempting to be threatening like her group. “Ya saves.” The three she had appointed as the muscle surged into the crowd, much too quick for any of the victims to react accordingly. Lorena chuckled, “Anyone? Come on. This town isn’t that big.” She looked around, catching someone raising their hand.

“Uh…isn’t that the weird art dude? They have a gallery downtown. Usually see them lurkin’ real late.” A grin curled onto Lorena’s lips, and she all but skipped toward the informant. That was information she already knew though. She needed someone close to the traitor, and this man certainly wasn’t. She cupped his cheeks, a look of faux gratitude on her face. It washed away just as quickly as it came, turning dark and bloodthirsty as she tore into the man’s throat. Blood seeped into her mouth and dripped onto the floor. She tossed the man aside in the pool, looking at the man next to him. His eyes were startlingly blue, but just for a moment thanks to the blood painted on her chin. 

“Do you have any info, sir? There is a correct answer.”

Lukas should have looked scared, but part of him was more shocked than anything else, his eyes static at the scene playing in front of him as he saw others - being stupid. The part of him that rationally thought was cut off from the part that wanted to sprint out of there. He knew for his own sake, trying to either attack or run was more likely than not just get him killed quicker than anything else.  He was right, as suddenly people were being attacked for doing one of the two things. 

It looked so similar to what he had already seen before, down to the falsity in how the woman walked through them and then suddenly blood was in front of him. The man who was speaking was now no longer, and after the initial shock Lukas’s eyes changed. He had tried not to react to it, his fangs now digging into his mouth as he tried. He really hadn't expected this, and while there was terror there was also a curiosity and hunger he wasn’t sure how to rationalize. He tried to keep himself steady though, keep himself focused even if part of was more monster than man. 

Still, what the other said was a place Lukas knew almost instantly although he’d never met the curator of the art gallery he knew the name and the place. MuertArte the gallery he’d walked by a dozen of times and hadn’t yet looked into. “I do,” His fangs now getting in the way of his speech, his hands gripped to stop how they shook. “Although, now you seem to be more interested in killing the messenger. I’m not so dull to think that if I blurt it out you won’t kill me, and I don’t know the vampire you want well enough to want to risk my life for theirs. So I do. Is it worth letting me leave this place for?” 

Maybe he would warn the Bernal person about it, but to do so he had to, you know, survive the night. Lukas wasn’t super hopeful he would. Still, a trade was better than nothing. 

Lorena narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the man, swaying her head side to side as she mulled over what to do. The blood in the air was alluring, almost too much for her to concentrate. Lucky for her though, she was taught during Eloy’s reign. Where her gave birth to an insane regimen in for control, punishing those who didn’t make the cut. Flexing her jaw slowly, Lorena waited for a dull pop to shift her senses back, refocusing on her task. 

“Well,” She chuckled coyly, smile curling mischievously. “That information is already on the web, I’m afraid.” The facade of innocence continued, and Lorena pouted petulantly with disappointment. “We’re looking for something better. Something…more.” Grabbing the man’s head, she rushed her head forward, smashing his nose in. She hummed with glee, her companions laughing along as she forced the man to look at her. “Give me something to work with. You see anyone hang around there often? A name. Give me a name and we’ll be on our way. Easy, right?” 

Lukas wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with the vampire in front of him but he knew well enough that people were willing to die for a lot of things. He stilled his face, in a similar way he had the day he died not wanting to set off whatever that was in the other. She reminded him a lot of his Sire and he wasn’t quite sure if that was a survivable thing. 

He couldn’t react in time as she headbutted him but he stopped the yelp that he might have normally done, his glasses smashed as he tried to place himself back in the scene senses howling in pain. He may have been dead already, but fuck did that hurt. Still he didn’t move to retaliate the only bit of anger in his jaw. 

“Sure. Easy,” Lukas said trying to hide the wince as he felt her move his face. He didn’t know anyone who did, faces flashing around though he settled on one. “John Neilson,” He said, remembering Kelly’s ex. While he felt a flash of remorse, he didn’t mind selling out her awful ex husband anyway. Maybe it wouldn’t settle what he did, but he could at least be free. “Art collector. Lives near the pier and has a fascination with macabre art. He’s there almost every week” He was also a jackass that he hoped this Metzil person didn’t have a personal connection to. 

“Now, was that so hard, cutie? We’ll be on our way very soon thanks to your cooperation.” A wicked smile curled onto the woman’s face, and she scrunched her nose as she trailed the dead blood on the man’s skin with her finger. She painted a smile on his face, snapping at the rest of her crew with her free hand. They quickly rushed to her side, everyone gasping and taking a few steps back, besides the man Lorena was interrogating. That made her chuckle proudly, and she snapped her teeth playfully at the rest of the room.

“All right!” She clapped her hands together, bouncing happily as she all but skipped back to her crew. “Looks like we have everything we need thanks to this gorgeous gentleman, so we can get out of this…” she gestured vaguely around her, face contorted with disgust. “…so-called bar.” 

The Bloody Stake was a great name, but Lorena had grown bored and she had the information she needed. The group had a John Nielson to find so that they could make the traitor suffer, and she was dying to cause some more trouble around town. Because a bleak bar filled with weak vampires certainly wasn’t it. Not that Master Jesus would like it very much if he found out that they were goofing off too much anyway.

“So long, gorgeous.” Lorena made a point to lock eyes with the gentleman, still not bothering to get his name. They didn’t need it. The trackers in the group had his scent anyway. If the information had proven to be a lie, Lorena would just have to say the word and he’d be a dead man. Well, deader than he is now. 

Smiling coyly, she disappeared among the rest of the group as they slowly exited the bar to reach their next victim. Lorena hoped John would put up more of a fight than any of those weaklings in the Bloody Stake did. It was more fun when there was a bit more chaos, but she supposed her outcome was better than her friend Yuri’s team. Most of them had somehow gotten blown to bits with fucking screaming. Lorena was just lucky, she supposed. Probably smarter, too.

Lukas wanted to fight, but he knew better than to do that. He hadn’t when he was alive, and now that he was undead he really didn’t find the instinct changing. He had been a priest, not a warrior so he let the woman touch him even though he would rather like to snap her fingers. He wouldn’t know how to do it anyway, and soon enough he was let go. He wondered if his Sire would be proud of how he decided to survive this. He wasn’t sure if he cared, but it was what it was. Instead he was quiet letting the other vampire go about her show of power and pride. 

He got the message loud and clear as she locked eyes with him and the snide compliments.  He was someone not quite worth killing, but knowing he wasn’t far from the edge. He was used to it. Like a tightrope he had gotten good at walking he was even able to give a little wave to the vampire as he went to wipe his face with admittedly a fairly limited amount of paper towels coming up with an idea that was probably stupid. Looking at his broken glasses and not meeting the eyes of any of the rest of the team he waited until they left. 

Still, Lukas wasn’t a man of God anymore and while he couldn’t care about John at this point, he didn’t want to let this go either. Stupid or not, he was going to find whoever this Bernal person was and warn them. Maybe Lizzie did end up in his brain after all, because he could have sworn he heard a laugh that sounded exactly like her giggle and smell smoke he couldn’t see. 

[flynnswhumpprompts]

Hero In Need of Saving- 4

Previous -- Masterlist -- Next

The world slowly started coming back into focus as Xen woke. Pain speared up across the back of his skull, probably from whatever he'd hit or hit him. A soft voice was talking quietly nearby, drowned out mostly by the ringing in his ears. He tried turning his head to avoid looking at whatever light was above him when he opened his eyes, letting out a groan as that pain spiked. "Fucking hell...." He moved his arm to block the light instead.

"Xenny?" Shit it got worse.

Xen cracked his eyes open to see Nicky and Em sitting on the couch across the room from him. "Hi..." He closed his eyes again. "Can someone please turn off the lights?" He listened to the quick footsteps as one of them went to turn the light off. At the click and disappearance of glow from behind his eyelids he opened his eyes again.

Nicky had moved to stand by the bed. She gave a look that clearly stated their worry. His dark eyes were practically swimming in it.

A quick glance around told Xen he was back in one of the rooms at base. Not the infirmary but one of the ones that heros could crash in between shifts. "Thanks." He rubbed his face, pausing when he saw the bandages wrapped around his wrist and forearm.

Em moved over to stand at the end of Xen's bed. She rested on the footboard. "You walked into Wardog's plan, and he was not happy about it." She fidgeted with the end of the blanket. "I dont know what all he did to you, but there was glass all over you and cuts and bruising. You were out cold when I got on scene." Her face held a similar expression as Nicky's, though something in it sent warning bells off in Xen's head.

"Oh... explains the headache..." Xen sighed and put his arm over his eyes again. "And probably why I remember nothing other than before this supposed fight." Less questions Nicky would ask if they thought he couldn't remember off the bat.

Two taps on his leg had him removing his arm.

"They said you had a concussion, that's probably why." Nicky signed as she sat at the end of the bed. He tucked their legs under him and looked over Xen. They rubbed her palms together as she chewed her lip. "You needed 75 stitches and were placed on observation until further notice."

Xen let out a huff. "Of course I'm stuck here." He glanced around without moving his head. "Bland ass place. Guessing if I get up I'll feel like Frankenstein's monster as well?"

Nicky rolled his eyes. "Dont, pop those stitches and I will beat. your. ass." She added a glare as if proving her seriousness with it.

Em giggled. "Hey at least your humors in tact." She leaned back.

Xen sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted an excuse to kick Em out but had nothing valid enough to not get him in trouble. "I'm going back to sleep, this headaches killer. Wake me when someone decides I can go home." He flicked a wave to the two and pulled the blankets around him.

"See, I told you he's fine. I'm here and can watch over him while you finish up what you were doing," Em said, her voice sweet and thick with the 'please walk away' that she used with others when wanting Xen alone. "Hiding stuff? What is he hiding?" There was a small pause. "I was with him that day... he seemed fine to me... I can check the reports though and see what happened for you." Another small pause. "Of course, I can email them to your agency as soon as I find them."

There was a quiet second before the door shut with a quiet click. Shit now he was alone with her.

"I know you're not asleep you little shit."

A jolt of panic shot through Xen. The normal temptation to flee making his body tense. "I'm trying though."

Em huffed. "Come up with a better excuse. Nicky's questioning things and I dont need another agency launching an investigation on me," she snapped. Luckily she didn't reach out to touch Xen in any way.

"Okay..." Xen paused. "Yes ma'am." He corrected himself. Maybe he wouldn't though. Maybe he'd let Nicky run an investigation on Em just to end this whole thing. If only he knew it wouldn't end up worse than this all started. He heard the door shut again, and let the spiral o thoughts around Em drag him down into sleep again.

Taglist

@oddsconvert @whatwasmyprevioususername

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Love, Me Normally

Written By: Will Wood

Artist: Will Wood

Released: 2020

A smooth and jazzy ballad about feeling like an outlier. Posted in 2016, Will Wood was a guest on WPTV-6, performing this song for the episode. The studio recording of this single was created in 2018, but unreleased until May of 2020.

[Verse 1] In lipstick on the mirror are the lyrics to my obituary In iambic pentameter, followed parameter, cross my eyes, dot my T's I was delivered holding scissors, I live deliberately, I’m a quitter And a winner anyway, cause I never agreed to participate in this game Won't follow my dreams, 'cause they all got me waking up screaming I can’t let them go for me, after all, there is no “I” in team [Chorus] And I'd rather be normal, yes, so normal I suggest that we keep this informal 'Cause a normal human being wouldn't need To pretend to be normal, to be normal Well I guess that's the least that I owe ya To be normal in a way I couldn’t be C’mon, c’mon, and love me normally [Verse 2] If I could live in third person, well, I don’t think life would be much worse than it is In the current tense, presently, this sentence ending in question marks or dot, dot, dot Is it courageous or escapist to leave the quarantine when you’re contagious? It may just be a cold, and besides I don’t wanna get old, yeah I drank myself to death to be the afterlife of the party When the afterparty came, I was rolling in my grave [Chorus] And I'd rather be normal, yes, so normal I suggest that we keep this informal 'Cause a normal human being wouldn't need To pretend to be normal, to be normal Well I guess that's the least that I owe ya To be normal in a way I couldn’t be C’mon, c’mon, and love me normally [Bridge 1, spoken] Now this is the part of the song where I like to talk to my audience I like to tell 'em there's something I want from you hep cats tonight I want you to look to your left, look to your right, your 12 o'clock, three o'clock, six o'clock, nine o'clock, rock around the clock tonight And I want you to find those points of no return, those singularities, those burning rings of fire in the beautiful pupils and the beautiful eyes of the beautiful boy, girl, neither, both, or in-between that you brought with you tonight, and I want you to tell 'em how you really feel I want you to love the way they so seamlessly, like-a-dream-fully, so beautifully, oh-so-dutifully jam that square peg in the round hole in their hearts I want you to tell 'em that you love the way that they don't stick out like sore middle fingers That they crawl their way up the side of the bell curve, stick their flag in the peak, and slide their way back down I want you to tell them that you love the way that they're not maladaptive, not malcontent, not malignant or maleficent, but rather that you love them exactly the way that everybody else is [Bridge 2] I was nothing before, so I couldn’t have asked to be born I'll be nothing again, so what am I between now and then? Is there nothing to fear? Cause shit's getting weird So to God who made this man, you better have one hell of a plan [Chorus] And I'd rather be normal, yes, so normal I suggest that we keep this informal 'Cause a normal human being wouldn't need, no To pretend to be normal, to be normal Well, I guess that's the least that I owe ya To be normal in a way I could never be C’mon, c’mon, yeah, I said c’mon, yeah C’mon, c’mon, yeah, I said c’mon, yeah C’mon, c’mon, and love me normally C'mon, c'mon and love me normally

Do I Wanna Know?

Written By: Alex Turner

Artist: Arctic Monkeys

Released: 2013

Cover included: Hozier, 2014

“Do I Wanna Know” is the second single from AM, premiered live at the Ventura Theatre, CA on May 22, 2013. In it, Alex portrays himself as an obsessive lover that is paranoid about the state of his relationship.

[Verse 1] Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the tide That sticks around like summat in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee [Pre-Chorus] (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay (Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day [Chorus] Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through Crawlin' back to you [Verse 2] So have you got the guts? Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you But I don't know if you feel the same as I do But we could be together if you wanted to [Pre-Chorus] (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay (Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day [Chorus] Crawlin' back to you (Crawlin' back to you) Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? (Had a few) 'Cause I always do ('Cause I always do) Maybe I'm too (Maybe I'm too busy) Busy bein' yours (Bein' yours) To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through Crawlin' back to you [Outro] (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay (Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day (Do I wanna know?) Too busy bein' yours to fall (Sad to see you go) Ever thought of callin', darlin'? (Do I wanna know?) Do you want me crawlin' back to you?

[firetrucks-fastcars]

Tagged by @chaotictarlos

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

My Bloody Valentine

“Well that was eventful,” Carlos said as he slid the loft door shut behind them, clicking the lock into place. 

“That’s an understatement babe,” TK chuckled, kicking off his shoes and moving into the living room. “I just wish we could have one normal date. I’m sorry our plans got ruined.”

“It’s not your fault baby. Why don’t you go grab a shower? I’m gonna set the alarm and then I’ll join you.”

TK looked down at himself and cringed. He’d been able to clean most of the blood off his hands and arms before leaving the restaurant, but his shirt looked like a lost cause. 

“At least it’s not my blood this time?”

Closed For Maintenance

TK fidgeted with a loose string in the bottom of his hoodie, wrapping it around his finger until his nail went white, before unraveling it and doing it again. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him. He knew better than to assume Carlos asking him to talk about something was bad news. Carlos wouldn’t spring something on him like that. Even so, when Carlos had uttered those three words over dinner, the food in TK’s mouth had turned to ash. He nodded wordlessly at his fiance and resigned himself to picking at his suddenly tasteless dinner until Carlos was finished. Now he was sitting across from him on the couch, torturing himself until Carlos spoke.

By My Side

“Carlos Reyes, I swear if you don’t sit your ass on that couch I’m calling your mother.”

“I’m not an invalid TK,” Carlos huffed. “I can get my own water.”

“I know you’re not honey,” TK soothed, setting the glass down on the coffee table and running a hand through Carlos’ dirty hair. He hadn’t had a chance to shower since the accident, having to settle for the quick sponge baths and dry shampoo given in the hospital. “But,” he continued. “You have a broken leg and two fractured ribs. You’re looking at a twelve-week recovery minimum. And that’s just for the leg. I know you hate it, but you’ve got to take it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” he grumbled. “I’ve barely moved off the damn couch for two days.”

Unconventional Methods

TK didn’t know why he was awake. Typically there were only a few reasons he’d be awake at 3 am. He hadn’t had a nightmare, they’d been few and far between in recent months. There were ringing alarm bells or lingering smell of smoke in the air (thank God) and no early morning proposals to be made (the matching gold rings in the dish on their bathroom counter took care of that). He didn’t have to pee and no part of his body hurt, so there was no reason he shouldn’t have been dead to the world. 

I'll Be Cleaning Up Bottles With You (On New Year's Day)

Carlos wasn’t used to sleeping in. Even on days when he wasn’t working, he was up by sunrise to go for his run, stopping on the way home to pick up muffins and coffee for himself and TK to enjoy before his husband ran off to work or before they started on whatever responsibilities they had for the day. Today, however, when he rolled over to check his phone, he was appalled to find that it was almost noon.

There was a straightforward explanation for his laziness, New Year’s Eve. He and TK had invited over their friends to the loft for a party the night before. They’d kept it relaxed and fun, nothing vastly different from the other 126 hangs that happened at their house, aside from the presence of Judd, Grace, and Charlie. However, they’d stayed up well past midnight, and frankly, Carlos was too old for that shit.

The Holiday Season

“Buck, Buck! Dad! Wake up! It’s Christmas Eve, you gotta get up!”

“Wha-?”

Buck was barely awake enough to brace himself as Christopher clambered onto the bed, flopping down right in the center of Buck’s chest. Two small hands held his cheeks, and he leaned in to press their noses together as he spoke.

“Buck, get up.”

Buck slowly opened his eyes, going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on Chris. Eddie groaned next to him, rolling over and blinking blearily at them.

“Good, you’re up,” Christopher said, sitting up but not moving from his position on Buck’s chest. He said it as if he’d already forgotten that it was his commotion that had ripped them from their peaceful sleep.

The Set Up

He didn’t hate Austin nearly as much as he thought he would. It wasn’t even close to what he was used to. Everything was smaller than in New York, people were much closer, not in a physical way, but in an emotional one. They knew everything about each other and news traveled fast. Everyone in Austin proper had known about him and his dad before their plane even touched down. 

They’d known about his injury before they’d even met him. They’d expected the limp and the sour attitude that came along with a career-ending leg break. His dad’s new team had looked at them with pity for a few days, feeling somewhat guilty every time he went to the firehouse to visit or bring his dad lunch. That was until he started hanging around and kicking their asses at foosball and video games, which earned him a little respect, the amount of which grew every day, until they were friends. 

Christmas Tree Farm

Winter in Austin was a different kind of cold. TK was used to snow and ice, all of the things that came with winter in the North. This was a different kind of cold. This cold seeped through his layers of a hoodie and coat, chilling him to the bone. He pressed a little closer to Carlos, wrapping his chilled hands around his bicep as they walked through the Christmas market set up downtown. 

“Are you cold babe?” Carlos asked.

“A little,” TK admitted, breath clouding around his face as he spoke. 

“I’m getting you a better jacket for Christmas. I don’t like you being cold.”

“I don’t like it either.”

“We can go home if you want. We can do this on a day that’s less cold.”

“Nope. We promised Noah we’d have a Christmas tree when we got home and I will not disappoint him.”

Hot Chocolate Weather

“I’m not liking the way this looks,” Carlos grumbled, stepping away from the window where he’d been peeking out at the storm. The plastic blinds crackled when he released them and TK pushed down the urge to fuss about him bending the pieces. It was a pet peeve he'd never been able to get over after years of being scolded for peering through the blinds of rented apartments in the same fashion. As if sensing his frustration, Carlos gently adjusted the bent piece before drawing the curtains over the window. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Do you think it’s gonna get bad? Judd was saying something about tornado weather.”

TK really hated storms. They weren’t an anomaly in New York but something about the humidity of the South and the potential for tornadoes made it worse. Plus past experiences with storms, rain, ice, dust, or otherwise, he was understandably wary of weather that wasn’t sunny and blue skies. 

Paper Rings (Buddie's Version)

It started as a joke really. Buck wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the notion, maybe from that stupidly catchy Taylor Swift song May had been so insistent on playing all summer. Something about it had wormed its way into a small corner of his brain and he couldn’t shake the words.

I’d marry you with paper rings

He’d thought about marrying Eddie. Of course, he had. A small part of him felt he and Eddie had been married for years, had been married since they’d stopped posturing over a man with a grenade in his leg and became some semblance of friends. Since Eddie had looked him in the eyes, stupidly large hand on his shoulder and ridiculously soulful brown eyes filled with so much sincerity and concern, and said “There is no one in this world I trust with my son more than you.” He’d thought about it more recently, as they crossed the threshold over one year of dating. He thought about the pages of bookmarked rings he was hiding from Eddie on his laptop. He was months away from clicking the button to buy one, they had time, but he wanted it more than anything. 

Tagging: anyone who wants to :)

[iloknalem]

The church bell rang again today

As it always has, the church in front of my apartment rings its bells every Sunday, without fail, at 9.45 am, for 5-7 minutes. Just the perfect duration to make a half boiled egg.

The church. It used to be so overcrowded, they built another church around one kilometre apart at the end of the 19th century. Nowadays, both of them doesn't even do weekly mass anymore. Seems like people would fall out of love for religion after the reality of 2 devastating wars hits in. I cant imagine the hopelessness those people felt, when the rock they stood on was unceremoniously swept away from under their feet.

But this is not a lesson about hopelessness. What caught me pondering was the guy ringing the bell. The church also rings at different hours of any other day, just a short ring, around 30 seconds.

I assume the guy must just be someone appointed by the catholic organisation, or whatever they call it, to maybe do the upkeep of the church and whatnot. Just another cog in the going-down-in-popularity-machine called catholicism. An honest man in the system, just doing his job, a symbolic job of what used to be the cornerstone of peoples life, nowadays only done for formalities. A function, stripped of its significance— shortly said, its useless

Nobody comes anymore to the church, the bell is just a noise polution at this point. The Germans are pretty stingy about noise on Sundays, and yet here they are, ringing their old bells again,

and now i wonder, how does he feel about his job. I used to be someone who thinks that everything needs to have its own purposes, its destiny, its contribution to the society. This job looked pretty useless to me, it lacks any real meaning nor purpose. I thought, if i was the man tasked to ring the bells, i wouldn't be happy with what i do— i wouldn't be content with my life.

The closest comparison might be the legend of Sisyphus. After 2 times eluding his fate to die, he was punished to roll a boulder to the top of the hill, and watch it rolls back down, endlessly. A completely, useless, destiny i must say. And yet here we are, in life, facing the same reality in one way or another.

Some of us maybe are said to have been lucky, to have found "find the meaning of the universe", to maybe work in their dream job, have a dream family, fulfill their destiny for the world.

And yet, i think those kinds of wishful thinking, the "expectations" of a perfect life and their understanding of it, potrayed in social media, in our society, is just a naive way to give purpose in this funny game we play called life. Its just religion 2.0, its there to give comfort, to justify that everything we do have its own meaning in the grand scheme of things, or to simply give that push to wake up in the morning and do our day-to-day duties. A sense of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, whatever you want to call it. A normalized addiction.

At this point, you might think i would go all nihilistic to say that life is meaningless, and therefore theres no point in justifiying the meaning of what we do. I dont think its like that.

I do think theres a reason on why things are. Reasons, for why stars shine, why water flows, and why the world revolves. Yet, our understanding, or in this case our lack of understanding, underlines the puniness of human nature, how small and insignificant we are. These humbling factors, we need to acknowledge them first to understand, to realize our inability to parse the meaning of life.

Theres still a lot of things that we still dont know, a lot of things we need to sit on, discuss about, and figure out together something other than "42". This, gap, between our teeny tiny minds and the meaning itself, some people call it the absurd— the absurdity of life. Theres still a long way to go, and i dont think were gonna get the answer in our lifetime, at least not mine. Until i die, i wouldnt get the answer of why my coffee spilled this morning, or why i needed to get through a lot of hardships, too much so that it seems comical, that i think someone is voodooing me. I mean, i know why i spilled my coffee, thats because i tripped on my table, but i will never know the reasoning behind it, in the grand scheme of things.

To try to find the meaning of everything is to embark on an endless journey that often leads to more confusion than clarity, It is futile. It's more liberating to accept that some things might remain enigmatic, allowing us to appreciate life's mysteries without being weighed down by the relentless pursuit of meaning.

There are a lot of solutions for this "problem" we have, which is our nature to seek reasoning, and the overbearing non definitive meaning of life. Some seek to find their own meaning for themselves, some threw all reasons and morals out of the window. Some find comfort in accepting their insignificance and prefer to not live at all. None of them are wrong i must say.

For me, I think that I must try to confront the absurd, to not give in to the situations and conditions we are given, as we are free to do what we want, to be where we want to be, as long as you want to challenge life itself. This part, im still figuring out on what to say about it, its still a journey for me.

One must imagine that sisyphus is happy, that he's content with what he does fully knowing that what hes doing is absurd, for the struggle itself is enough to fill one man's heart. One must not question the reason, and just embrace the happy things in life, the lofty goals we make, the stupid obstacles we find, the sorrows we endure, to laugh, to learn, to love, and therefore to live. Life is absurd, and thats okay.

And therefore i conclude that the bell guy has a chance, and might have found happiness too in doing what he does. I hope he does.

To not be a slave of destiny is the way to live, and thats how i want my attitude on life to be. Its going to be my own adventure on challenging the absurd, and im going to define how it will be as much as i can. Obstacles are going to come and go, and theres no deeper meaning in it other than to learn from it and to embrace it —to embrace the absurd.

[regatoni1]

~Chapter Two~

As you were walking to the wall to rest your achy legs, you felt a presence behind you. You turned around to check who it was, but there was no one there, so you just brushed the feeling off and sat against the wall, closing your eyes.

You hadn't been sitting for five seconds when you heard a sultry voice say, "And what's someone like you doing here~?"

You opened your eyes to see who had disturbed your short rest, only to find the pink haired magician standing against the wall next to you.

"You'll have to be more specific. And can't you tell I'm trying to rest? Please don't disturb me any further," you stated rather politely, closing your eyes once more.

"Hmmm~" 

You could tell the magician was not done teasing you yet.

"Could you at least tell me your name?" He asked. 

You truly were tired, so instead of replying, you ignored him.

"Well who's being rude now~" he said with a smile on his face, "I was only trying to make a friend," he pouted, "I guess I'll have to try harder."

At this point you were done with whatever game he was trying to play, so you rolled your eyes, got up, and walked away. Without moving, the bothersome man grabbed your wrist and swung you around.

Your hood fell down in the process, and you looked to see the normally collected magician slightly shocked as your (h/c) hair hit the light. Now, you were just plain mad.

"And what do you think you're doing?" you said with slight malice in your voice.

The fuchsia haired man looked at you up and down, letting his eyes travel to the more feminine parts, trying to prove his suspicion, his eyes stopping at your chest.

"My my," he said, "What do we have here?" and you scowled. "Looks like this exam will be much more interesting than I thought~" and just as you thought he was going to try something, he simply let go of your wrist and walked away.

You decided to ignore the exchange and continued to rest until the examiner arrived.

Suddenly, you heard a bell ring, and the wall at the front of the large room lifted into the ceiling. A tall, lavender haired man, with what looked like no mouth, but a perfectly groomed mustache was standing just behind the door.

"I apologize for the delay," he said. "Thank you for waiting."

You assumed that he was the examiner, and walked back over to join the rest of the group.

"The entry period for hunter applicants is officially closed," he stated. "So with no further adieu, the Hunter Exam will now begin."

"One final word of caution," he continued. "If you're short on luck, or ability, keep in mind, that there's a very real chance that you could end up seriously injured. Death is another distinct possibility. If you're willing to accept the risks involved, I'll ask you to follow me now. But for the rest of you, kindly exit through the elevator located behind you." Nobody moved.

Guess they're all confident. Ah well, it'll bite them in the ass during the exam.

"Right then," he continued. "All 405 applicants will now participate in phase one." With that, the lavender haired man turned around, and started marching like a little toy soldier down the long dimly lit hallway behind him.

You were following more in the middle, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. You watched Gon and his friends chatting, and you saw the magician quietly walking next to a man with an indigo coloured mohawk and pins in his face, whose head moved like a bobble head. As you were walking, the examiner had picked up the pace, forcing everyone into a jog. 

"How rude of me," the examiner said, "I neglected to introduce myself. I am Satotz, your examiner for the first phase of the exam. It's my responsibility to lead you all to the second phase."

"Second? Whatever happened to the first?" a man from the crowd asked.

"The first phase is already underway," Satotz said, gaining mumbles of surprise from the applicants.

"The first phase is quite simple," he continued. "All you have to do is follow me to the second phase, so try to keep up."

The jogging went on for hours, and when the group reached a set of stairs that had no end in sight, Satotz broke out into a complete sprint. By this time, you realized that the mental and physical strain of running and not knowing when you could stop took out at least a hundred applicants. You guessed that you had run at least 80 kilometres by this point, and you assumed that at least fifty more applicants would have to stop here, as they couldn't run any further.

You were also getting quite hot, and much to your dismay, you had to take off your sweatshirt as to not overheat, tying the sweater to your waist. As you were running up the stairs, you felt quite a few eyes on you, rather your chest, as you were only wearing a tank top under your sweater.

Disgusting. As if these men don't have other things to worry about than staring at some girl like they've never seen one before.

Suddenly, the magician was running beside you with a pleasant smile on his face. You politely smiled back, not realizing that he emitted a blood lust directed at the men who were staring at you. They instantly looked away, not wanting to cross the man.

You took this opportunity to ask some questions about the guy.

"So what's your name?" you asked him. He seemed delighted that you had talked to him at all.

"Hisoka. And yours?" 

"(y/n). Why is everyone afraid of you?" you responded bluntly.

You had noticed that even before Hisoka turned that man's arms into flower petals, people were avoiding him and were constantly giving him dirty looks. Yes he had been a bit dramatic when the guy bumped into him, but he actually seemed to be quite polite, even if he was slightly arrogant.

"Hmm~ I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe they heard of the incident last year."

"Last year?"

"Yes," he continued. "I had, let's say, a quarrel with one of the examiners, and killed him, leaving me disqualified."

You scoffed and said, "Well that's stupid."

"Hmm~?"

"Well if you didn't like the guy, why didn't you just wait until you had your license, and kill him after?" you asked. You weren't scared of Hisoka, but you were a bit surprised by this story. It did make you wonder how many people this man has killed, and dare you say, that the thought almost excited you?

"Well my little fruit, if I had done that, then I wouldn't have met you, would I?"

You didn't have the words to respond. Was he actually flirting with you? In response to this, all you did was scoff and run ahead. You could feel him smirking and staring at your ass while you ran, but you didn't care. His arrogance would get him killed sooner or later, if it wasn't by your hands.

[moonlight-prose]

oooh oh my gosh could I please ask about:

the spilling of seeds & the eating of hearts - professor!din djarin

it sounds incredible!! 💖

wow this got lost to the void in my ask box. so sorry about that babes. okay but this fic has been haunting me since i first watched saltburn. the inspo came from that movie hilariously enough, so thanks to barry keoghan i guess.

it's a passion filled haze of a fic where our couple basically can't help but fuck nasty because they're so obsessed with each other. i shall drop a piece of it down below for you.

“I’m voracious for you.”

You could hear his voice even now, sitting in the middle of a room waiting for the accompanying professors in your department to deign you with their presence. The gruff rasp of his voice. The heaviness behind his words. They stuck cloyingly to the back of your throat as if he’d pressed them there with his tongue, smearing their meaning along your taste buds in the hopes that you’d understand his need.

The clock on the wall ticked away. Seconds, minutes, until you were ready to rip apart the mechanical springs and gears with your hands. Maybe then you’d be able to sit in silence. Process his words as they rolled around in your mind, pinging back and forth—dragging your attention to them each time.

“It never stops.”

Your teeth scraped against your bottom lip, tongue peeking out to wet the dry skin there.

“This need.”

A trickle of heat spread between your thighs, spilling into your already soaked panties. You could practically picture him standing in front of you. His hands balled into fists so tight the skin of his knuckles turned pale; eyes darker than their normal chocolate brown. He looked like he was in pain, suffering from an agony you had caused—anguish that only you could get rid of.

A five minute conversation. That’s all he asked of you before you were due for your meeting. You figured he wanted to discuss the lecture he planned, the one you helped him with. Only for him to stand on the opposite side of the office, leaned against a desk, his hand gripping the edge. You were afraid it would break at one point. That is before he shared with you the thoughts that plagued his mind, the feeling he couldn’t claw out of his chest.

A quick glance at the clock told you waiting for them was pointless and that you’d be better off heading back to your office. Or at least attempt to stand without completely embarrassing yourself in the skirt you were wearing. His words continued to ring clear as a bell and you were addicted to their melody. You craved the essence of their cadence, how he looked unraveled at the thought of you.

“I feel like I’m going mad.”