#spring is a superior season

[thatisayouproblem]

I would like to fistfight whoever said that all introverts are fall people. I’m an introvert and a spring person, and spring is as much of an introvert season as fall. The cold weather + sun or warmer weather + gloomy sky combo, the flowers starting to bloom, the snow melting in patches and the grass peaking out of it, the days getting longer and longer…

Or maybe i started wearing my spring coat and the texture made my autistic brain happy.

[edgepunk]

long days during summer make me just as insane as short days during winter

[montanabohemian]

everyone who's like "ohmygod i hate summer and i love fall. fall is the best time of year!" it snowed here today. and will be in single digits (fahrenheit) for the rest of the week. so like. we got two weeks of summer and two days of fall. fucking awesome.

[apollos-forgotten-flower-bf]

I love the smell of spring. And not like, petrichor, but just the smell of spring. I don't know how to explain it properly? It's like, when you go to a pond deep in the forest just after a small rain, flowers are growing around you and the trees are finally managing to grow leaves, it's the perfect temperature — not to cold, nor to hot — and a bird flies by overhead, chirping quietly. You can hear the movement of the water and see the tiny fish or bugs or maybe even a second bird that's landed across from you, taking little sips of the water, you take a deep breath and it just smells like spring. And maybe it is, just the petrichor. But in no fucking way does it smell like those stupid "Spring scented" candles or air fresheners. Those just smell like soap.

[sylthana]

Oh boy, I sure do love april, the *checks watch* sixth month of winter.

[folkloregirlfriend]

maybe i do like spring afterall

[shoheiakagi]

i hate summer cause it has me feeling and looking gross

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 1.

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

MASTERLIST TO ALL THE OTHER PARTS.

Link to AO3 in case you prefer to read it there.

The papers were passed around the Military board members, each set handed off in tense silence. The room’s air had cooled quickly as the sun dipped below the horizon, making Levi’s coat, almost too heavy to bear earlier, feel suddenly necessary. The chill seeped through the old walls, hinting that a bit of heating might soon be in order. 

With methodical precision, Levi slammed the stack of reports against the wooden table to align them perfectly, every edge sharp and in place. He moved aside the sticky notes he’d scribbled on hours before, crossing off the last item on his to-do list with finality. Job done for the day— 

“Well, that’s it,” he muttered, eager to leave the stale room behind. 

A pointed clearing of someone’s throat halted him, making him glance up slowly. Levi’s senses flared; he wasn’t done after all. The tension thickened, and the air shifted to something more ominous. His gaze travelled around the table, landing on each board member’s face. Some looked uncomfortable, others entertained, as if they’d been anticipating this moment. Hange, seated beside him despite their role as Commander now, avoided his eye, their head lowered in apparent resignation. Recent meetings had seen the appearance of new, vaguely unsettling faces, like Kiyomi's, who now looked across the table with a subtle smile. 

“Captain,” Zackly’s voice rasped as he cleared his throat yet again. 

“The day’s agenda is finished,” Levi stated, irritation biting at his words. The official telegram had detailed the topics to be discussed, all of which they’d already addressed. Anything beyond that, he knew, was meant to be cleared with the entire board beforehand. 

“This was a last-minute matter,” a Military Police officer interjected, though the smirk twitching at his lips betrayed more amusement than urgency. 

“Captain,” Zackly called again, knitting his fingers together. “You know we’ve always valued your dedication to Paradis.” 

The pause was rehearsed, the words strangely formal, making Levi’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is going on?” cutting through the man’s attempt at civility. 

“Let the Commander finish,” Kiyomi insisted, her voice smooth and elegant, though tinged with a superiority that grated on him. 

“We wouldn’t have managed to retake Wall Maria without your bravery—” 

“A lot of people sacrificed themselves for that,” Levi replied sharply, cutting off the praise that felt, at best, patronizing. “Including the previous Commander, Erwin. No need to thank me.” 

“Nevertheless,” Zackly forged on, tiring of the interruptions, “without your skill, all those sacrifices might have been in vain. Not only did you dare to fight for Eren’s retrieval from the Female Titan and against the former tyrannical regime, but—” 

“It wasn’t just me. My squad and the brat over there were in it too.” 

The tone of the conversation was growing increasingly uneasy, the excessive praise no longer just annoying him but setting off alarms. 

“Quite right. You and Mikasa were essential in humanity’s progress,” Kiyomi added, eyeing Levi with a calculating gaze. As her look shifted back to Zackly, Levi’s own attention followed. 

“What we mean to say is… even if Paradis positions itself favourably in the new world, more capable individuals like you and Mikasa would be ideal assets for our success.” Zackly straightened in his chair, clearing his throat for the third time, making Levi wonder if the man needed water—or to finally give up smoking like a chimney. “Have you ever considered marriage, Captain?” 

The question hit him like a bucket of ice water. It was so absurd Levi could only scoff. “What?” 

“How old are you now?” Zackly continued, feigning casual curiosity. “Thirty-three? Thirty-four? A prime age, I’m sure. And for a high-breed alpha like you—” 

Behind him, low chuckles began to echo from the MPs, each one making Levi’s grip on the chair’s arm tighten. 

‘This is a trap.’ 

“Whatever it is you’re implying, I I suggest you rethink it,” Levi spat, the weight of their words starting to settle. 

“Let’s be frank,” Kiyomi leaned forward, hands placed firmly on the table. “Captain, we once thought the Ackermans extinct, only to discover Paradis has not one but two. Even Zeke couldn’t deny that meeting you at Shiganshina was... less than pleasant.” 

“Of course,” Levi replied dryly. “I beat that monkey’s ass.” 

“Exactly.” The dark-haired woman showed no amusement, her voice all business. “To the point, then: we intend to provide you with a suitable wife to ensure that you bless this island with as many Ackermans as she’s capable of bearing.” 

Levi shot to his feet. “You must be out of your damned mind if you think I’d agree to this. I’m not here to be used as a breeding tool.” 

“Oh, but you wouldn’t be the one doing the birthing,” an MP remarked with a smirk as the rest of the board broke their facades, amusement flashing in their eyes. All but Hange, who looked as if they might vanish into their seat. 

“You’re insane,” Levi snarled, preparing to leave, feeling insulted to his core. “You can use Historia as your political pawn as much as you want, but I’m not some 17-year-old girl at your disposal—” 

“Think of it as a service to your country,” Zackly replied coolly. 

“I serve this island every damned day,” Levi snapped, baring his teeth. With a sharp slap, he pressed his papers against the table and strode toward the door, signaling his utter rejection of the idea. 

“If you won’t consider it…” Kiyomi's calm, piercing voice halted him at the door, the threat clear. “Then we’ll turn to the only other Ackerman left.” 

Levi stilled, staring at the golden knob in his hand, fury boiling in his veins. He wasn’t about to fall for this. 

“Mikasa is too valuable to be reduced to a broodmare.” 

“She’s a girl of duty,” Kiyomi replied, a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Something you seem to lack. And she’s an alpha. I’m certain she could bear at least one healthy child before returning to the battlefield.” 

Levi clicked his tongue, pushing open the door with disdain. ‘Who the hell do they think I am?’ Hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, he stormed down the royal city’s military headquarters hallways, curses slipping from his lips. The whole idea was absurd; they’d lost their minds if they thought he’d even consider it. 

As Levi stormed down the dim corridor, every step sharp and swift, he couldn’t shake the rancor rising within him. The brazenness of it all, to drag him into their twisted ambitions with such flippant disregard for his will—and then to threaten Mikasa. The audacity alone made his fists clench. 

He barely noticed Hange keeping pace with him until their arm was outstretched, catching him by the shoulder. 

“Levi,” Hange began softly. Their usual spark was subdued, gaze serious, and voice almost apologetic. “I know you’re furious. I knew this would be hell to hear, but I didn’t know how else to—” 

“Save it.” Levi shrugged their hand off, glowering. “You knew, didn’t you? That they were going to bring this shit up?” 

Hange hissed, as if asking them to confessed was almost painful. “Yes… I knew.” 

Levi gritted his teeth, eyes dark with betrayal. “You agreed to this?” Both of them whispering on the empty cold halls of the building.  

“I… didn’t agree,” Hange answered carefully. “But I was there when the discussion happened. Look, Zackly and the others—” Hange hesitated, running a hand through their hair. “They’re dead set on this idea. They think they’re planning for a stronger Paradis, and if they think that means Ackerman bloodlines—” 

“Save the speech.” Levi’s tone was sharp. “They can be dead set on whatever they please, but I'd like to see them drag the entire MP battalion if they want to force me into this.” 

The past year had hardly been easy on either of them, especially Hange with their new title as Commander. Levi was well aware of this—yet the sense of betrayal cut deep. “For fuck’s sake, Hange, you could’ve warned me.” 

A tense silence hung between them, until Hange finally sighed and adjusted their glasses, pressing on the bridge of their nose. “You think I had a say in this? Kiyomi's paying for the entire coastal expansion and the railway. She thought it was a decent idea, and with her money backing it, she’s got the final word on everything.” 

Levi clicked his tongue, crossing his arms in exasperation. “Those bastards in the upper ranks are just itching to get on my last nerve since we changed the policies.” 

“Look, I know it sounds—insane. But maybe… if we don’t try to protect the future of the island, there won’t be one. And if there’s a way to keep the Ackerman bloodline alive, maybe there’s value in that…” 

“Don’t give me that bloodline nonsense.” Levi’s tone was ice-cold, his gaze sharp. “This is some harebrained scheme they’ve cooked up. And let me guess: it reeks of Zeke. That bearded bastard’s across the ocean, and he’s still screwing with my life.” 

Hange pressed their lips together, saying nothing. The silence was confirmation enough. 

“That son of a bitch,” Levi cursed under his breath. “He’s the one with royal blood, not me.” 

Hange’s lips twitched in something close to sympathy. 

“Well, since you two are such good friends these days, feel free to let him know he can kiss my ass.” 

“Levi…” Hange sighed, not because they disagreed but because Levi’s sense of betrayal cut both ways. They were the last two left of the original veterans—family in all but name. It wasn’t just an argument; it felt like a wound between them. 

Convincing Levi? Impossible. But convincing her? That possibility hung in the air, lingering like a storm on the horizon. Levi paced with conviction at first, then with dread. They both knew it, and, worse, Zeke likely knew it too. Mikasa had just turned seventeen, still almost a child, recently visited by someone claiming kinship with her clan. Levi couldn’t care less about all the ancestral politics, but he was all too aware of how they worked. 

“You can choose whoever you wish for the father,” they had told her, as if it was some generous offer. And, step by step, he watched Mikasa’s face transform from disgust to something akin to acceptance. Perhaps it was because she, too, held a certain pedigree; perhaps she felt duty-bound. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care what methods they used to sway her. 

‘She’s smarter than that,’ he tried to tell himself. 

But then he overheard Historia, almost childishly enthusiastic, whispering to Mikasa, “See? I told you—we’re girls with responsibilities.” The blood drained from his face. If they’d managed to convince Historia, to make her some kind of pawn in their twisted ambitions, what was stopping them from pulling Mikasa down the same path? 

‘It’s disgusting,’ he thought bitterly. ‘Maybe this is how those classist bastards operate. They talk little girls into this like they’re just trading dolls for something more ‘exciting.’’ 

That night, back in his office, Levi was a restless storm, pacing the room with his suit jacket hanging loose, fingers curled around his glass of whiskey, his movements sharp and frustrated. The glow of his cigarette flared in the dark room as he took a deep drag, gritting his teeth. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Slouched in his chair, forearm draped over his eyes, his mind circled back to Mikasa’s hesitant, almost innocent blush—her teenage imagination painting a faint, rosy tint over whatever twisted future she thought she might face. And in his mind, as if staring him down, were Eren’s haunted eyes, that deadened look of someone who already knew more than he could say. Maybe the brat already knew Levi wouldn’t let it happen. 

“She’s a damn kid,” he muttered. The thought of Mikasa shouldering this burden felt like a betrayal of his own values. 

Though technically, she was not much younger than many girls who’d borne children before. But this felt different, disturbing— He let out a humourless chuckle, as a man that waits for getting hang. “Those bastards knew… I wouldn’t let them ruin her life like that.” 

And like a cursed prophecy that tightened its grip the more one tried to escape it, Levi found himself back in that same damned office, slouched in his chair as if seated at a poker table. Bargaining his future. 

Levi sat stiffly across from the military board, his expression a blend of frustration and disgust as they spoke. Zackly lounged in his chair, lazily smoking as the other officials presented folders adorned with detailed painted portraits, lists of family properties, and who knows what else. As they laid the offers on the table, a random thought clouded Levi’s mind: It feels like searching for a button that matches at the notions store. 

He was reminded of long strips of fabric with various buttons sewn onto them, each one a potential fit. “Many of the noble families are eager to show their loyalty to the new government,” one officer stated with a practiced calmness. “Some have offered up alliances in exchange for the return of their territories and titles. This includes a number of unclaimed young omegas. You’ll have ample choices.” 

Levi’s jaw clenched. He knew they expected him to appear grateful for the options lined up before him, as if he were selecting a new weapon. Instead, he leaned back, crossing his arms tightly. “I’ll be imposing some conditions.” 

They paused, exchanging glances. “Naturally, Captain,” one of the men replied, steepling his fingers. 

“No fancy bullshit,” Levi declared. “The wedding will be plain. Just a civil ceremony. I have no intention of making a spectacle out of this.” 

The room fell silent, the officers exchanging looks that spoke volumes. One of them cleared his throat, hesitating before responding. “Captain, you should consider—” 

“I’m not considering anything,” Levi interrupted, his tone sharper than before. “This is a plain arrangement, and it will remain exactly that. I don’t need fanfare or ceremonies—just a quiet signing of papers.” 

The officers shifted uncomfortably, their discomfort palpable as they struggled to reconcile Levi’s cold practicality with their expectations. “Think of the girl. Many young omegas dream of their wedding day, waiting for it their whole lives. It’s—” a female alpha soldier attempted to be the voice of reason, but Levi was clearly listening to none of it. 

“No buts,” Levi said, his patience wearing thin. “If I’m going to go through with this ridiculous arrangement, it will be on my terms. I’m not dragging this girl through some overblown ceremony when neither of us wants to be there.” 

With a loud sigh, Levi lifted himself slightly from his seat to grab the portfolios. He barely looked at them, frowning deeply. “Don’t you have pictures where they look— I don’t know—human?” he spat out sarcastically, noting how overly produced their painted portraits appeared. 

“That’s what’s in fashion,” one officer muttered defensively. 

Groaning in disinterest, Levi rolled his eyes. “Nobles and their weird tastes.” But as he turned the next page to examine the descriptions, it was as if the world had tilted off its axis. “Sixteen,” he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. He looked up, venom lacing his words. “You’re offering me sixteen-year-old girls? Girls who could be my damn daughters?” 

“It’s common, you know—” 

“I don’t care what’s common. Twenty-five,” Levi interjected. “At least twenty-five. I’m not getting tied to a child.” 

“Come on,” an exhausted soldier exclaimed, “some are seventeen, eighteen—” 

“Twenty-five,” Levi snapped, his eyes blazing. “I’m not interested in any of this unless you bring me someone who isn’t still in their childhood.” 

“Be realistic,” Zackly finally spoke up, looking weary and disinterested. “How many omegas do you know that aren’t claimed by twenty-five?” 

“Fuck if I know; that’s your job to find out, not mine.” Levi’s anger flared, echoing in the sterile room. “Weren’t you the one telling me to think of the girl? Don’t you think of her?” 

“Why? Are you planning on hurting her?” Zackly questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fuck no.” 

“Then I’m not concerned. Choose one and stop being a pain in the ass.” 

It was clear they were not going to reach any middle ground like this. Amid the hastily scribbled notes, he noticed a name: Y/N, age twenty-one. He pointed decisively at the line, cutting through the cacophony of voices. “That one.” 

There was no picture, no description—nothing. Perhaps it should have raised suspicions, but Levi was too tired for this cheap drama. 

“Why her?” one member scoffed, glancing at the paper. “We have better offers on the table.” 

Levi didn’t hesitate. “She’s the oldest.” He placed both hands on the table, pushing himself upward. He had made up his mind the night before; he just needed this to be over. Striding toward the door, he exited without allowing anyone to stop him. As he walked out of the conference room, he could hear the murmurs behind him. 

As the door shut firmly, one of the cadets held the papers against his chest, confusion written all over his face. Slowly, he turned to the higher-ranking officer. “Shouldn’t we tell him that she’s scheduled to marry this weekend to her childhood fiancé?” 

Zackly chuckled, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray. Between coughs, he said, “Oh well, he can find out from her once they’re both married. It’s no longer my problem.” 

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[iguanodont]

Introducing a new birg culture, and the reason the Twowi go to such lengths to cross the icy equator with their cargoes of rare metal and pungent gall-spice. The Ss’wassoum are a wealthy empire based on the far southern coast, where the sea-ice melts more quickly in the spring and its people first built their wealth on the sea-harvest. Their language is heavy on harmonized syllables, which lends their speech a distinctive musical quality. Family units are smaller than the fiercely clannish Twowi, and the gender divide is less rigid, though still distinctly matriarchal. Some of their most lucrative raw exports are refined tree-plastics and sea-silk, which is valued for fine textiles.

While the Twowi run on highly specialized industrial clan-towns, the Ss’wassoum exist in more diverse cities, though the class divide is impossible to ignore. The nobility are loud of dress and voice, with their ornate refined plastic head-dresses, vividly patterned veils, and resonators worn over the rear spiracles to enhance their voices. But despite all the attention they draw to themselves, their faces are always covered; to be perceived as gray-furred mortals akin to any commoner is inconceivable. They walk the streets as living demigods. Just below the nobility are the merchant class, which may approach their influence in wealth and education but are legally barred from the elaborate headwear and home exteriors of their superiors. Instead they adorn the insides of their homes with the latest in art and technology, particularly elaborate electric light fixtures crafted from imported Twowi metal. Commoners wear little at all in the sunny months, save for the occasional beaded sash and brass mandible-cuffs. Sailors and other hard laborers frequently adorn their bodies with scarified and dyed patterns to mark themselves for the goodwill of protective gods.

The Ss’wassoum government does implement a standardized education system of sorts, though only those of the upper class can test or pay their way into the finest schools, where they can master the high dialect and the art of Opinion. Historically, etiquette laws forbade the discussion of controversial topics in public spaces; these were reserved for halls of judgement. The rule is more of a social taboo these days, but an ancient loophole ruled that written forms of debate could be presented anywhere, and with the subsequent invention of movable type, a colorful written debate culture flourished. Wherever there is a public bulletin, a cafe wall, a blank space where people gather, you fill find posted essays on anything from the hypocrisy of the noble class to a long winded treatise on the merits of toe-biter clams. It is not uncommon for a debate topic to outlive the original essayists, as hills are chosen to literally die on are then proudly upheld by the writer’s descendants. So ingrained into Ss’wassoum society is this debate culture, that committed debate rivals may be legally recognized as a marriage-like partnership. Though the Ss’wassoum carry no expectations of monogamy to a reproductive partner, the correlation between rivalry and mating season partners does not go unnoticed. As a general rule, a worldly and strongly opinionated individual is more attractive.

Big thanks to @primalmuckygoop for pitching so many great ideas for these guys, including most of the lore on their debate culture, and the very name of this civilization!

—————

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[georgiapeach30513]

A Snowflake Melts, Part 3

Summary: it's spring time...or is it?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, stalking, voyeurism, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You take a glance out the window, eyes raking over the still powdery white lawn. Winter is lasting too long. You had chosen this place because of its long winters, but this has gone on far longer than anticipated. You catch a glimpse of Steve, tending to the animals with a much larger Sugar Cookie and Mistletoe trailing behind. He looks towards you, winking, and your cheeks flare up like the heat of coal.

You look down to the sourdough, trying to avoid his lingering gaze. Steve gives you a boyish grin that you don’t see, his face just as heated as yours, despite the never ending snow. The two of you had too many moments of getting too close, and still it isn’t close enough. You don’t know how much longer you could withstand not touching him.

Especially if the temperature continued to plummet. You fear for the livestock. They’ve been cooped up all winter, and there should be signs of spring arriving. Sighing, you take a glimpse at your phone. You know what you have to do. Your dad had a busy Christmas season, and now he’s in a hibernative state until preparation for the next Christmas season begins.

He would know what to do. He would know how to get in touch with Jack, and demand that he stops the winter. This isn’t right, and he wouldn’t be aware of it if you didn’t tell him. Gulping, you pick up the phone. Steve still had a while before he would come back into the house, you really didn’t want to explain either man to each other.

Rolling your eyes, you call up your dad, waiting until his jolly voice answers the phone. Tapping your fingers on the counter to the merry tune, you nearly lose your voice when he says your name. How long has it been since you’d fully heard his deep timbre, “Babydoll!” You want to cry. He sounds like home.

“Hey, daddy,” the overwhelming feeling of just wanting to crawl into his lap hits you like a ton of bricks. He always knew how to make things better.

“I have so much to tell you, but it doesn’t even matter. It’s good to hear your voice. The few photos you’ve shared haven’t been enough. Did you and Jack make up?” You shake your head like a nerd, but your silence tells him everything. “With it being winter I should have known. To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?”

“Can I not just call you?” His laugh jingles in the air. Everything he does always seems so magical. He is your hero in so many ways. “Well, it’s still very cold.”

“Some places the winter takes longer to fully defrost, you of all people should know that,” it wasn’t just the cold. It is frigid. Steve could only stand to be outside for short bursts to tend to the livestock, and let the girls run around. They love being in the snow.

“There’s no patches. Ste — umm, the lake is still frozen. There’s no melting to see earth. And the snow is still falling,” silence befalls the conversation, and you can only hope it’s a good thing. Your father rarely involved himself in Jack’s business, but Jack to your knowledge has never been so vindictive. His superior is your father.

“Daddy, his tracking works better in the winter. I swear I smelled peppermint, and Missy hissed at me to get back inside,” your father didn’t want to believe that Jack could be mean to you. But he wouldn’t never deny Mistletoe’s unwavering intuition concerning you. She is special, and she takes her job very seriously.

He takes a deep breath in, a low growl spewing out of his mouth, “I’ll take care of it,” the line ends quickly, and you turn your phone off. Laying it on the counter, and watch Steve. You hate to call it frolicking, but you didn’t know how else to describe it. He runs around with the girls in the snow, smiling and teasing them. Missy looks to be playing a game of tag as she bounces between the two of them.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, and you wish that you could be out there with them. Frolicking in the snow, and throwing snowballs at Steve. His cheeks are more red when he’s outside. The prettiest shade of pink. You’re happy that they had someone that could get them out and running.

Nearly returning back to your bread, you notice Missy pausing. Her crystalline eyes darting around the clearing before a gut wrenching scream echoes through the forest. You watch in terror as she sprints to the house, and Steve and Sugar Cookie follow swiftly. They didn’t know what her battle cry was for, but you did. You take tentative steps away from the window. He’s here.

Too scared to even start pulling down the blinds. Huffing and rustling noises sound outside, and you collapse on the floor. Scooting away from the entrances and windows. Clenching your eyes as you cover your face. Rocking back and forth when Missy hisses as she approaches you. Her thick muscular body stalking around you. Followed by Sugar, and you look up to see Steve bring in a wheelbarrow of firewood before he slams the door shut.

He makes quick work of placing the board over the door. He stomps around the house, closing every blind and curtain before he sits on the floor behind you. Steve wraps his arms around your body, and he rocks the two of you much slower than you had been. A steady rhythm before you even dare to speak, “Why did she scream?”

You don’t know if Steve happened to see anyone, or if it was just her instincts. There’s a reason she was yours, but you were also hers. And she immediately liked Steve, even brought him to you. It’s something you struggle with ignoring. It meant something good.

“I believe she smelled peppermint. You want to tell me about this ex?”

“He’s a bounty hunter. The best in the world, and he flourishes in winter,” your words clip off as you look up. The cabin is cast in so much darkness and shadow, and the wind roars outside. Your father clearly spoke to Jack. “There’s going to be a blizzard,” you answer with finality. “The cows and horse?”

“They were fed, and I made a covered cat walk to get to the barn earlier this winter. Nothing will stop me from getting to them. Not snow, not ice. But we’re not dealing with a normal man are we?” You shake your head no. It’s too difficult to explain everything. “Peppermint. Is it like your never ending scent of marshmallow?”

“You smell me?” Everything is caked in terror right now, but Steve can smell you. Mortals didn’t have the gift, but he smells you. That can’t be just luck or coincidence. That’s fate.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. He slides his body from behind you to in front of you. You two stare at each other, sitting on the floor like children. “It’s a very strong scent. Sometimes you smell like roasted marshmallows,” you look away from him, while your embarrassment radiates through your body. He could smell the change. Did he know what that change meant? Did he know that whenever the two of you fell asleep, and you woke up with his arm around you that your body burned for more than his arm.

You’ve tried to remain cool with him living with you because he’s been the biggest help. But simply put, you want him. You like him. You want to feel him all over your body. “What do I smell like?” A bit of pink stains his cheeks, and you look down at your lap, wondering if he’s been feeling the same way you do.

“It depends,” his brow cocks up as he looks at you with a mischievous grin. “Most of the time you smell like pine. Fresh, a bit of darkness, but also bright. But sometimes — sometimes your scent is like burning embers in a fire. That brightness is still there, but it’s smoky, and…deep,” you gulp, and Steve shuffles around on the floor. Making it no secret of adjusting himself. Surely you aren’t alone in these feelings.

“Why,” Steve clears his throat, his eyes cast down your body, staying on your neck and chest. Your body heaves with how deeply you’re breathing. “Why does one’s scent change?”

“Well,” your throat is parched, and you need a tall drink of water, or just him. You aren’t sure, but you’re not the only one uncomfortably swishing around. His scent is so heady and deep that it makes you dizzy. Your vision blurs everything out, but him. He’s more clear than you’ve ever seen him before. “Generally speaking, it’s during heated moments.”

“And what does that mean?” He smirks. Is this flirting? Is he toying with you because he wants you to be explicit about why his scent is changing?

“When,” you close your eyes softly, unable to look at him anymore because emotions are running like crazy in your mind. You try to focus on anything but the quickened beat of his heart. You’d heard about how scents of true mates mimicked one another in some way. Your dad smelled like cinnamon, and your mom like cookies. They complimented each other.

You forced yourself to believe that marshmallows and peppermint worked, but you were the warmth, and he was the cold. You are the very heart of Christmas, while he is the crystal on the trees. Steve’s scent is warm, and harmonizes with yours, and you’re terrified as to what that means.

“Holly?” He pries for more information. His body scoots ever so slightly closer.

“When your scent gets darker like that it’s usually because you’re aroused,” you look away from him quickly, but he captures your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m sorry, this close proximity is getting to me. Fear is elevating it. And…”

“You don’t find me attractive?”

“I didn’t say that,” your voice is timid as you look at him, wishing you could shrivel up inside yourself. His eyes flick down to your mouth, and you forget to breathe. It was only a split second and it stole your thoughts. “You know you’re attractive.”

“To you?” You nod your head, and he inches even closer, “Breathe,” impossible. You cannot breathe currently. You’re struggling to stay afloat here. Your body screams for him, and your mind is saying there’s a blizzard outside due to Jack’s anger of needing to cut winter, and let the spring prevail. He is probably running through the woods looking for you. He’s close, but Steve is closer. “I’m right here.”

Steve holds your gaze, and you wish he’d just close the gap. Wish he would end your misery, and judging by the tightness in his pants, his own. What did you have to lose? You’d been here for months with Steve, growing to know him. And nothing happened. The most that had happened was snuggling. Giggling. Smiles. Fun. Warmth despite the cold. Home.

It’s hit you in this moment, while you missed your parents and ‘home’, you’d miss Steve even more. He is home. Wherever he is, you want to be.

“Kiss me,” you whisper because you dread the rejection that’s about to follow. Instead Steve adjusts himself to his knees. Leaning forward too slowly, “Steve?”

“I’m taking my time, but I do plan on kissing you,” he studies you from this angle and closeness. Looking at you like he’s never seen you before. Never seen anyone but you before. Everything freezes and stands still as you study him. Nothing before now mattered, and nothing else will ever matter but him. Home.

The two of you create a snow globe with this tiny little cabin. The snow may swirl around outside with Jack’s fury, but you’re safe with him. Right where you belong. Jack’s need to isolate you, made you want to truly be alone, and in that journey, you found Steve. A friend. And now…

He inhales briskly before he closes the gap. A tingle of a snowflake surges through you the moment you touch, and then your body lights up with a cozy fire. Immediately you pull him back with you as you lay down on the floor. His body hovers over you, and this just doesn’t seem enough. Months of being separated by clothes, and all you want is him all over you, and in you. Two people becoming one.

His tongue instantly brushes against your lips, and hungrily you open your mouth to grant him access. Home. You can’t explain it. It’s just a perfectly fuzzy feeling. Like Christmas morning with people you love. People that you need in your life, and you claw at the material daring to keep the two of you separated.

Howling winds beat at the doors and windows as each of you pull and tug desperately at the other's clothes. Swirling hands and arms wrestling to get each other naked. To feel him in the depths of your soul. Your hand runs up his bare chest, resting over his heart, and you take comfort in knowing his heart is bursting to get out, too.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks. Giving the two of you a moment to realize that you are as naked as the day you were born. You hadn’t even given yourself a chance to stare at the most perfect man in existence. Hadn’t even gawked at the steel rod he’s kept hidden. Has it been as hard for him these past few months as it has been for you? “We can wait.”

He tries to keep his eyes on yours, but he curiously glances over your body. Tracing the gentle curves of you, until he sees your weeping cunt, and a squeak exits his mouth. “I don’t want to,” he grips tightly to the base of his cock, and smooths it through your folds. Your mouth gapes open at the erotic feeling of his wet skin on yours. You’ve never wanted anything more.

“Steve, I want,” his hips jut forward, and the crown of his cock rests at your entrance. “I want you.”

“Shh,” he looks down between the two of you. Silently gawking at his head just kissing against your entrance. “They say when a woman really wants a man,” his mouth lifts into a smile, while yours turns into an O. Arching your back, while you look up at the ceiling. “That her body just sucks him in.”

If you didn’t see it happen or feel it, you would laugh and think he was crazy. But your cunt pulls him into you. Sucking him like a lifeline, and he sinks into your wet heat slowly. Making your body mold to him. Letting you feel every ridge of his cock, and follow the vein on the underside of his length. He doesn’t stop until he is balls deep, and the cabin rattles. Shutters trembling when he fully seats himself into you.

Your arm wraps around his neck because you’re obsessed with this feeling. The feeling of having him so close, and still it didn’t feel close enough. The lights fade in and out. The power suffering from the connection, but you still only see Steve. You see nothing but the man that changed everything.

Grunts, sniffs, snorts, howls, screams, and a world of horror rages outside your bubble, and you don’t hear the torment of Jack’s wrath. The storm of his power failing to break in, and rip the two of you apart. You don’t hear the lashing of his anger. Water immediately turns to ice. You only hear Steve’s heartbeat.

Steve pulls himself out of you, snapping his hips quickly back in place. The feeling of not being in you, torturing him to the point of a quick return. Grabbing onto his ass, you pull him more into your depths. Pleasure wraps you into a cocoon with every roll of his body into yours. Had it been so long or was this really that great? You’re guessing it is that great because immediately you're dumb off him.

Your vision is blurry with anything that doesn’t involve this moment. Hell is happening in the forest. The demons of winter come out as reinforcements for Jack, but inside is the brightness and warmth that winter can have. The Spirit of Christmas being reborn, and coming into its own power. Sobbing out his name when a crash of lightning rockets the most intense pleasure in your body, and Steve halts his movements to stare at you.

“What was that?” He smiles down at you.

“I wanna ride you,” you knew Steve was a strong man, but the ability he has to lift you up without leaving your warmth. He walks you over to the couch. Sitting down, and immediately you start bouncing on him. Bringing his hands to your chest, letting him knead the spheres, while you ride him. Pressing your forehead against his. Breathing in his smoky scent. Fusing the two of you together for all eternity.

Breathing so deeply you see stars, and you crash your lips into his like your life depends on it. Swallowing all his moans, and all his sweet pleasure. Because each of you owns that. You’re claiming the other’s euphoria as your own.

“Son of a bitch!” Jack curses. Looking up to the sky when another crash of lighting lights up the cabin and your silhouette. “Such a fucking whore!” He kicks a tree, knocking it down to the forest floor. Bringing other trees with it, creating so much chaos, and you don’t falter your movements. You hear nothing.

“No! Nonononono!!!”

His eyes turn to pure ice. Gathering up all the cold he can muster until a figure lands in front of him, punching him in the chest. “That’s enough of that,” he cracks his neck as he looks to the cabin. Another round of lightning illuminating the two of you.

“You get off on watching your ex? I’m sure her father wouldn’t think too kindly of this temper tantrum.”

“Why are you here?” Jack grunts, and crawls out of the snowflakes. He glares at the head of the soldiers of winter. He’d known where you were all along. Of course he did.

“Well, I am her personal bodyguard, and your time is up. You’ve extended winter, were told to cut it out, and now you’re sorely pissing me off by making this storm, and more damn snow. She doesn’t realize you’re even out here, you know why, don’t cha?” Jack glares up at the tall soldier. His eyes are nearly as icy and cold as his own.

“There’s nothing you can do now. You chased her right into the arm of her mate,” it’s the very thing Jack has been refusing to admit. To see. The reason he was trying to break into the cabin, and stop this foolishness. You belonged to him, and instead, just like the whore you were, were spreading your legs for an idiot.

“He’s a mortal!” Jack growls. He bounces up, and stands nose to nose with the soldier. “He’s nothing. He’s not good enough for her! She belongs to me, and I will destroy him!”

“Are you threatening the Spirit of Christmas’ mate?” Jack doesn’t back down, but the soldier sees in his eyes the fear. “You’re already on probation. You were supposed to return north.”

“And what about her!” He shouts, and it isn’t lighting that lights up the house, but something else entirely. A warm glow encapsulates you and Steve, and the soldier grimaces as both of you scream out in pleasure. And the glow remains, and all anyone can see is you two sharing breaths.

“It’s done. You can’t fake that, and he’s not ready. They have seasons to get through. And nowhere does it say she belongs north. You do. So get your ass back where it belongs, and deal with your consequences. She wasn’t ever for you. You dulled her light. You were with her for years, and never could produce an heir. Because she wasn’t yours!”

“You’re playing the old man’s politics again, soldier. It doesn’t look good on you,” Jack cocks up an eyebrow, but the soldier knocks him again, sending him to the icy floor. “Would you stop?” Jack had forgotten how deadly the soldier could be.

“Go home.”

“I don’t want to. I have business to attend to.”

“Go home!”

“She is mine!”

“She’s been fucking claimed, you creep. Do you see that glow? Do you see the two of them wrapped in it? If you stayed in contact with the boss you would have known,” the soldier looks back to the cabin, and still that glow radiates around the two of you. Growing brighter. Warmer.

Jack rolls his eyes as he starts to walk deeper into the woods. “The fucking cat again?”

“She’s not an ordinary cat. You hate her because she’s never liked you. Kris just tolerated you because he thought you made Holly happy. And you’re not walking that way,” Jack freezes, and spins around to glare at him. “You’re coming directly with me. The boss wants a private word with you, and I’d meet with him. You’d hate to be demoted. Again.”

Jack’s full arm points towards the cabin. Annoyed that the soldier is ignoring you laying down with a mere mortal. Hadn’t even let him slip out of you. The two of you were sickeningly just staring at each other, “Now that you’re gone, those two will have some peace and quiet, and she can go outside, and enjoy the snowflakes, like she’s supposed to,” Jack grunts again, but the soldier grabs his arm roughly, and they disappear with a flicker.

You tremble in Steve’s arms, but his soothing hands on your back calm you slightly. That was new. All of it was new. Like you’d never had sex before. Nothing has ever been or felt like that, “That was magical,” he pants, looking across your glistening skin. He starts ghosting his lips over your shoulder. Looking so beautiful, the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

You should tell him. You should tell him everything, but you can’t. You’re terrified that he will run. You just need more time. Let him see you in your element. Unafraid of the outdoors. Missy meows loudly, and you jerk your head towards her. He was gone. But he was here. Lifting up Steve’s hands to your mouth, you kiss his knuckles, “Winter’s over.”

“Holly it was brewing a blizzard earlier. Winter isn’t over.”

“If you say so,” you know deep down inside of you that winter is over. He’d returned. Somehow you just know that this snow wouldn’t last. By tomorrow afternoon, you’d see a patch of earth, maybe even some green. His power couldn’t hold the winter any longer. It had overstayed its welcome, and now spring can prevail. And you can join Steve outside tomorrow. A new adventure awaits.

“How does this work?” He asks, kissing around your neck, and you hum in question. “Are you on anything? Are we taking a gamble here?”

“Are you asking about pregnancy?”

“Yeah,” he looks up at you confused, and you give him a sweet smile. “I’m not opposed, but it’s very early,” you couldn’t tell him that your window with pregnancy was during a true winter. While not impossible, it is extremely unlikely to happen.

“I’m not, but after this time, maybe we should be more careful,” you see what he’s thinking. He didn’t have a supply of condoms with him. “Just pull out. I trust you,” you pull him in for a sweet kiss, you’d never tire of this.

“Are you worried about your ex?” You shake your head no. Jack could never hurt you again. Well, almost never. At least his powers would be drained until next winter. “Are you going to come outside and build a snowman with me tomorrow?”

“He’ll probably be a teeny tiny snowman,” you didn’t have the heart to tell him that snow outside was not going to last. You didn’t want to terrify the man. Leave him with more questions before he ever works through his feelings with you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you smile, kissing him as you answer yes. “Okay. Me, too.”

And everything would be okay. Everything is going to be okay.

“You girls stay away from the cows!” Steve yells over to Mistletoe and Sugar Cookie. Giving the two of them a disapproving look because Missy wants to play. He clears his throat when the stubborn cat takes another step towards the cows.

“Steve,” you giggle trying to pull him back down to the blanket. “Just sit back down. Leave them alone. The cows enjoy the attention,” you always let them get away with everything. “Here. What do you think of this?”

“Everything you make tastes delicious,” he says with a grunt, falling down onto the blanket, but more importantly onto you. Your cheeks heat up with unashamed happiness as he starts nipping on your neck. His body crawls more on top of you, and you playfully try to get him off.

“Steve! We’ve got to eat.”

“Mmm, I’d rather be eating you.”

“I’m sure you would,” your voice darkens, and Steve jumps off you. Sitting up straight, and starts to pick at the fruit in the picnic basket. “No, that's not fair!”

“If you don’t want me to eat you, then I’ll eat these grapes. I can think of something so much sweater,” he’d been insatiable. So had you. You wanted to try and get some fresh air that didn’t include washing the sheets again.

You groan, falling onto the blanket, and in his lab. “What cha doing?” He asks, looking more like a schoolboy than the sex fiend he is. As much as you love winter and the snow, seeing Steve’s arms exposed in that stupidly tight shirt, and his freckles start to pop out over his nose is amazing. You’ve loved the seasons for their own beauty, but Steve is adding to that beauty. He is beautiful.

You discover something new about him everyday. Every hour, you learn a new story of his, or find a mark on his body, a new move he’s used on you, a new way to make him climax, a new facial expression when you tell a corny joke. It didn’t matter, you just wanted to soak every part of him up. So much newness and you thought you were learning about him when you were just friends in a cabin.

“Winter would have been miserable without you,” he pops another grape into his mouth before he looks down at you. “I’m serious.”

“Are you talking about me or my cock?” You roll your eyes at him. Did he seriously forget the months that you were just cuddling?

“You’re such a teenager! I am talking about you,” his cheeks turn rosy as he looks across the property, avoiding your gaze, and you can’t look at the beauty here, because you’re struck on him. He is far more beautiful than any forest.

“Stop staring,” he giggles, staring down the road that leads to his cabin that he’s never returned to. Well, to stay in. The two of you did bring his clothes here. “I think we should go visit your folks,” he says nonchalantly. Still refusing to meet your eyes. He’s so embarrassed, and it’s adorable.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to meet them.”

“Why not?” He looks down at you accusatory. “I’m fun. And cute. And you love — spending time with me,” holy shit. He knows. He knows but is afraid to say it. It’s more endearing in a way. “Why?”

“It’s complicated. My dad is kinda famous.”

“A famous delivery man? Okay. So you’re not ashamed of me?” You gasp, clutching your nonexistent pearls. “Okay, I’ll take that as you’re not ashamed. So when do I get to meet them?”

“You really want to?” He gives a smile, nodding his head as he lifts you up from his lap. Holding you almost like a doll as he kisses your lips over and over again. “Okay okay! But you have to have an open mind, and you can’t judge. Judging kills the — essence.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“My dad kinda runs on people believing in him,” you cringe, trying to come up with a way to explain things. It’d probably work best with actually seeing it. Everyone believes when they see. “But he does tend to hibernate in spring. Maybe…maybe in fall? Give him some time to get ahead for the winter season.”

“I like these riddles,” he starts kissing you again. Pulling you on top of him as he lays back, his head in the grass and not on the blanket. “He’s a delivery man, he hibernates in spring, Christmas is his biggest season but it’s everyone’s in retail, he needs you to believe him so his ego must be a bit broken, and you flourish in winter. I get why you call yourself the Spirit of Christmas,” he had no idea…

And you didn’t call yourself that. That was a title bestowed to you. But for the first time in your life, you feel like you deserve it. The joy that wraps around your heart with just the simplest of acts makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Like roasting the most decadent marshmallows.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @musingsfromthemitten @distractingbeth

[myosotisa]

deep end - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖ summary: You and the gang have a pool day and some bad memories come up.

‖ tags: angst, hurt with very little comfort, post season 4, everyone lives (but that don't mean they ain't got trauma lmao), no y/n, no pronouns, reader is referred to as "honey". depictions of PTSD, anxiety/panic attacks. tw for fear of drowning. past tense? present tense? the fic is tense, that's for sure.

‖ word count: 2k

Today, May 6th, 1986, was a good day.

Up until very recently, most of the days had not been good at all. Spring break had done a number on all of you – nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks. Some worse than others.

But today was a good day.

At least, until it wasn't.

Summer sun had invaded Hawkins and left everyone sweating and seeking shade after even a few minutes outside. AC blasted indoors and opened windows begged for a breeze to come through and bring some solace from the heat. The community pool was packed shoulder to shoulder and nearly impossible to get into – but that was fine.

Because Steve Harrington had his own pool.

Eddie, Lucas, Dustin, and Max were all already in the suburban backyard by the time you showed up with Robin. Steve had joined the other boys in the shallow end to start up a game of chicken – Dustin on Steve’s shoulders and Lucas on Eddie’s. Max sat on the pool’s edge with the water up to her shins, not able to get in further with the cast still on her right arm, and rolled her eyes as her friends tumbled over and into the water just to get back up again.

Robin went to go and sit by Max while you let yourself into the Harrington home, a container of drinks destined for the fridge just inside. By the time you had them chilling and pushed back out into the oppressive heat, Steve had pulled himself out of my pool to wait for you.

“Hi honey,” he said with a sticky sweet smile, ducking in to press a kiss to your cheek and dripping water on your cover-up.

“Hey handsome,” was your easy reply, Steve's smile lighting up further at the compliment. You called him handsome all the time and he still reacted like he'd never heard it before.

“Harrington, come on!”

His smile fell slightly as he rolled his eyes, shrugging at you before jogging back over to the pool.

You were just about to pull out your book and set up on one of the deck chairs when Nancy and Mike pushed through the fence gate.

More happy greetings, a hug from Nancy, and some chatting about the things she'd brought with her. Mike stripped off his shirt and shoes before walking over to the pool steps beside Max, submerging to his chest as he watched the others continue their game.

Robin came over and helped you and Nancy blow up the 3 inner tubes she had brought – Robin having to rescue you both with her superior musicians lungs. She quickly claimed the green dinosaur float, falling into it in the water as Dustin and Mike started to squabble over what kind of dinosaur it was supposed to be.

While you had originally grabbed the unicorn float, with it's pink hair and blue horn, you were quick to notice the longing glances from Nancy and offered a trade. She never would've ended up asking for it – she thought it was too childish to actually want the unicorn float – but you didn't miss the giddy grin on her face as she traded with you and settled into the pool a lot more gracefully than Robin.

So, with your strawberry frosted donut float and book in hand, you laid out on the sticky plastic and began to roast beneath the summer sun.

You and Nancy both had paperbacks cracked open while Robin seemed content to attempt a nap beneath her shades. Max busied herself by using a foot to gently push your floats around like a slow and lazy game of bumper cars. Mike finally succumbed to peer pressure and joined in with the boys playing with a volleyball toward the deep end and everything was good.

Everyone was smiling and laughing. Warm and lazy with the heat of a good, summer day.

Focused on a particularly intense chapter, you hardly noticed someone approaching your float until a wet chin draped itself over your arm.

Steve was looking at you with that lovesick smile again, his hair wet and pushed back as his tan skin glowed beneath the golden rays. “Enjoying your book?”

“I am, thank you very much.” But still, you placed it down on your stomach and turned your attention to your pretty boyfriend. “Are you having a good day?”

“Might have a couple bruises tomorrow, but not a big deal.” He hooks a wet arm over the side of your float, anchoring himself to you, and the skin along your thigh breaks out in goosebumps from the sudden brush of water.

“Steve, that's cold!”

He barely conceals a laugh, grin growing wider, before he tilts further toward you. “What, this?”

Was the only warning you got before he shook his head out like a dog, water flying from the ends of his hair and sprinkling all over you.

You nearly squealed, shoving him off and shouting about him getting your book wet, even though the smile on your face betrayed you.

After a few minutes of insisting it was funny as you fake pouted, and then Steve giving you some pathetic puppy dog eyes, you accepted his half hearted apology and settled again – one hand intertwined with Steve's as he held onto your float.

“Nance seems fine,” he said quietly, bringing your attention to the brunette. You had told him earlier you were worried about today, about bringing her back to the pool she spent two years barely able to look at, but she seemed perfectly at ease on her unicorn float. Just slowly turning page after page as she continued through the fantasy romance novel you’d lent her last week.

“Yeah,” you agreed, exhaling a relieved sigh, “I'm glad. She deserves it, y'know? We all do.”

Steve's hand squeezed yours, bringing your attention back to him on your other side. “You're the best, you know that, right?”

Not expecting the compliment, you got slightly flustered with the praise. “No, that's you,” you joked with a light flick to the tip of his nose.

He released your hand in mock offense, pushing your float slightly away as he put on a dramatic frown. He inhaled to reply, mouth parting, before he suddenly disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

The next few moments played out in slow motion.

In reality, Lucas and Eddie dove under the water to sneak up behind Steve – each of them grabbing an ankle and tugging him under as a practical joke.

To Steve, his heart stopped.

His chest constricted as his heart rate doubled, eyes squeezing shut as the panic gripped him tight and he waited to be pulled through the gate and thrown out on the other side.

Water filled his mouth from his half completed inhale as he was dragged under – his eyes widening and immediately beginning to burn from the chlorine.

But he wasn't in the pool anymore. It was dark; so, so dark and cold. He couldn't see anything through the murky water as he sunk lower and lower. The vice around his ankle held tight as he gave a kick, continuing to pull him back down to hell again.

To you, the world flipped on its side.

The last thing you saw before Steve went under was a flash of panic in his wide, brown eyes. Just like that night, on the boat. When he got dragged down and didn't come back up again.

“Steve?!” Your call is shrill, very quickly panicked as your adrenaline surged and your body tensed for a fight. It gets the attention of the rest of the group but you don't notice – eyes hyper focused on the spot he was before he disappeared.

In reality, you could glance down and see him in the clear water, just barely a foot below the surface. But you're not there in the Harrington’s pool. You're on a boat at Lover’s Lake and the man of your dreams just disappeared into the murky depths below.

“Steve?!” You scream again, rolling off your float and into the cool water, just like you had that night. I have to go after him, I have to get to him.

You vaguely register someone calling your name but you’re diving under, eyes burning instantly as you continue to look at Steve.

Eddie and Lucas have let him go now after sensing some sort of commotion from above, but Steve isn't moving. He isn't trying to swim up, though he is slowly ascending toward the surface. He's completely frozen there in the water, curled in on himself defensively.

You grab him and he grabs you in response, his nails digging into your bicep painfully as his eyes shoot open again. He doesn't even seem to realize its you before the two of you break the surface again.

Steve gasps for air – choking slightly on the water that was still in his mouth – and then starts to cough as he grabs tightly to you with both hands.

Your heart is pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird as your eyes rapidly scan him for the battered bruising across his throat, the blood coming from his mouth. “Steve? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Robin is by your side an instant later, her head and shoulders still dry as she comes around the side to place a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder while he coughs out chlorinated water.

Steve gives a stuttered nod as the coughing stops and he's able to take another deep breath in, his grip on you loosening to not be so painful as he closes his eyes. His inhales are coming through quickly, his eyebrows drawn together tight like he's in pain.

Your tunnel vision begins to scope out and you catch sight of Lucas and Eddie looking pained and apologetic in your periphery. They're both treading water in the deep end as you turn on them, anxiety and panic filtering out quickly into rage.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh?!” You snap, causing both of them to jump. Lucas's eyes are wide as saucers and Eddie looks like he's half tempted to book it just from the look on your face. “What the fuck kind of trick was that?! Maybe I should pull a gun on you, Lucas, just for fun. Or maybe, Eddie, I'll loop a rope around your neck for a few minutes and see how the fuck you like being reminded of almost dying!”

Both of them wince, drawing back from your outrage, which only makes you want to advance.

“H-honey,” Steve stutters beside you, half scolding and half terrified as he tries to put on a brave face. “It was just a joke.”

You turn your wild eyes back on him, body still reeling in fight or flight mode, as you realize his hands are trembling and the wetness to his eyes isn't from the pool at all. While you could easily continue to scream at them (which, when you're in a rational headspace again, you will feel guilty for), you focus in on Steve.

“Come on, let's go get you dried off, okay?” You offer much quieter, hovering close to him to try to keep you both grounded. He gives another shaky nod and lets you lead him over to the steps and out of the pool.

No one in the group says a word as you wrap him in a towel and then drape one over your own shoulders before sitting both of you down on one of the deck chairs. He continues to tremble slightly beside you as you tuck yourself tightly to his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you try to comfort him (and yourself).

We’re safe here. We’re okay. We’re going to be fine.

Everyone else watches silently as your paperback continues to collect water until it sinks down to the bottom of the deep end.

It was a good day. Until it wasn't.

-

-

-

[ririya-translates]

Fumi's Short Story

Translation of Fumi's concept art short story (original) for his birthday on June 14th. Story by Shin Towada (JJ lead writer and Ishida's sister). Art by Lownine. I'm not quite sure how to list spoilers for this one so I'll just say I guess no plot spoilers but some general character spoilers? Nothing major though.

The dance room stands empty. If one were to slowly take in a deep breath, they'd feel a sudden chill of loneliness. Univeil Drama School. Students here are encouraged to practice every day to prepare for their performances. As an all-boys school, the male and female roles are both played by boys. Classes compete with each other for superiority through their shows five times a year. It drives students to hold nothing back in making their plays the best.

One person now stands in the dance room. Fumi quietly calms his breathing. Apparently also known as Sarafumi Takashina, he's part of the 'transparent' Quartz class and now in his third and final year.

At this school, students in male and female roles are called Jacks and Jeannes. With his eye-catching looks and aggressively seductive charm, Fumi acts as a Jeanne. But he isn't just any Jeanne. Those responsible for lead roles are the ones who truly excel above the rest. The top of the Jeannes is the Al Jeanne. It's a heavy responsibility, but he always acted casually about it.

"Well then…" Fumi takes out the music player. He presses play and music begins to flow in as if to ward away the silence. Closing his eyes, his body begins to sway slowly, ever so slightly. Vibrations echo through the room from the sound of his feet pressing firmly against the floor and up into the air. He opens his scarlet eyes and catches sight of himself in the mirror.

Al Jeannes can't just be all-around good at everything. They need an undefeatable weapon. For Fumi, the weapon is dance. With every step he swaps between his masculine power and feminine elegance.

Melding into the music, approaching a pure meditative state, a shadow of a person arises in the back of his mind. (…Tsuki) Fumi closes his eyelids to search his memories. (…?) In that moment, he feels eyes on him. Those eyes look at Fumi for just a moment before the person turns to leave without saying a word. (Ugh, this guy is always difficult) Fumi turns off the music. "Hey, did you come here for something?" he calls out. The other person stops walking. "Just speak your mind, Kai." "….I'm disturbing you." The man of few words is Kai -- Kai Mutsumi. He's also a Quartz student in the same year as Fumi. "You're the Jack Ace. I wish you'd act more proud about it." Much like Al Jeanne is the ultimate level of Jeanne, Jack Ace is the top of the Jacks. The two of them form Quartz's leading duo. Kai shakes his head in a refusal as if saying 'I don't want that.' "I'm not the Jack Ace currently, since we're practicing for the newcomer's performance." It's the spring season. Just a little while back, those who passed the rigorous auditions entered into Univeil as first-years. The newcomer's performance doubles as both a way to let them try lead roles and to display their talents. Roles have been decided on already and preparations are underway for the show in May. "If you put it that way, then I'm also not the Al Jeanne." As the typical leads, Fumi and Kai's duty is to act as support for the new students. Kai shakes his head again. "Wherever you are, whenever it is, you are always the face of Quartz."

(Despite us both joining Univeil in the same class at the same time and now being the leading duo, you and I are not the same.)

Kai silently urges him with his eyes, standing still as a shadow. A sigh starts to spill out of Fumi's mouth. He gulps it back and shrugs his shoulders so that Kai doesn't notice. "So, what'd you need?" "I was told you're needed to consult on the dance for the performance." "Ahh, that director of ours is the same as always. All right, gimme a bit more time and I'll head over." Kai turns saying, "sorry for disturbing you,"and leaves the dance room.

After the door closes and Kai's presence fades, Fumi blows out the sigh he was holding in. "'I'm not the Jack Ace.' Oh for fuck's sake. This guy… Well, I guess it's not all his fault is it?" Fumi was selected as the Al Jeanne practically the moment he entered Univeil. He was partnered with a student two years older than him, the Jack Ace genius known as the pinnacle of Univeil. The same person who came to mind when dancing in his trance-like state. --Tsuki Tachibana. That's the name of the genius. The one who unleashed such dazzling brilliant light while standing on the Univeil stage. Even now, Fumi and the others stand in the shadow of the high wall he built.

Fumi begins to dance again. He spins and spins over and over like the dancer on top of a music box. Wanting to empty out his mind, turning, turning, turning. Twisting around in this dance room filled with such loneliness, he feels as if he might freeze over. "…!" Suddenly, he senses feverish heat. (Ohh, it's that one is it?) He glances towards the dance room mirror to catch the reflection of one of the new first-years. This one has a Jeanne face, but strong determined features. He desperately tries to pick up the techniques as he watches Fumi dance, holding himself back to avoid interrupting. The feverishly passionate gaze feels nice. The infectious feeling spreads and Fumi's repetitive spinning round and round becomes a dance filled with passion. (…Since it's for this one)

We completely change even ourselves, don't we? Feelings begin to well up in him, unsure if this is a premonition or a wish. It's all because of this younger student, the one with a face quite resembling the one of that genius.

"…Well now." Fumi stops his dancing and turns his head. "How was that, audience?" The first-year who had been staring at the dance intently as if devouring it, quickly comes to his senses. "I'm sorry for peeking in without asking!" he says quickly while bowing his head. "Eh, it's fine. No big deal." Fumi lightens the mood while slowly taking a step towards the new student.

(TL note: the verb for taking a step forward is 'fumidasu' 踏み出す which feels quite intentional)

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃~! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐤. 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “Y’gotta shut that pretty mouth before you get us caught,” Kakashi moans, his callused hands grasping at your hips as the water sloshes around you. “F-Fuck, that feels good…”

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: naruto | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kakashi hatake/reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 3.06k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: age gap, jonin reader, spoilers for season 2 of naruto, teen death mentions, kakashi & reader are friends, exhibitionism, public sex, bath sex, spit swallowing, biting, creampies, minor cockwarming ( briefly ), y’all nasty af idk what else to tell u homie, previously established relationship.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: the fifth and final day of kinktober <3 enjoy u weirdos

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Sitting back, eyes closed, you soak in the heat of the water of the natural hot spring, relishing the way it soothed the ache in your sore muscles. Your last mission, one of utmost secrecy at the bidding of a the now deceased Lord Third Hokage ( and wasn’t that a startling fucking thought, knowing the old man was good and dead when he’d been around to see three hokages including himself come and go and then even came out of retirement in Minato’s place ), had run long and difficult; only two of the six that had set out had come back, with one of the pair being yourself. 

Two of those who would never return had been your own students, still so green at the gills and small in stature in your eyes that wearing their blood home still made you ache all over in ways unrelated to your strained body. 

Water suddenly sloshes up over the sides of the public baths you recline in, but you don’t react. You recognize those footsteps, recognize the breathing patterns behind you to your right and recognize the familiar aura of that intense chakra that you used to be so jealous of — but that was a long time ago, and you no longer had any care or need to be jealous of a superior turned equal. 

“What ways have you rid yourself of your students now, Kakashi?” you ask lazily, not bothering to open your eyes. “I hope they aren’t trailing behind you like a litter of lost kittens.” No matter how fond you were of Kakashi, his children were no obligation of yours, and despite how good it felt to bask in the relentless warmth of the public bath, you would abandon it in favor of peace and quiet. You were in no mood for children — not now. Not after what had happened on this last mission. A silence follows, though comfortable, before the unseen man replies. 

“I told them to take the day off,” he admits quietly, settling down nearby. “After what happened, it’s the least they deserved.”

You hum thoughtfully to yourself. “Mmm, I agree,” you murmur, then sigh and cross your arms over your bare breasts, eyes still closed. “They’re too young for this. I still think we should bump up the genin applicant age requirements to sixteen.”

You can practically sense the man nearby nod. “Yes. All the trauma… It isn’t healthy. Not for children — it’s why I never take students.” His voice is soft and conflicted; he loves this trio, you already can tell. Nothing wrong with it, of course, those sorts of feelings from teacher and student  just typically backfire eventually — your own set being the perfect worst-case example. 

“And yet now you lead three,” you muse wryly, a half-amused smirk on your lips. A scoffed sigh at your right shows his own ill-concealed amusement, and the two of you fall back into silence, wordlessly enjoying the heat of the water as well as one another’s company. 

After a moment, a soft utterance of your name — hesitant and cautious — has your ears metaphorically pricking up. “Where…” Kakashi pauses, thinking the question over; ultimately he decides to pursue its answer. “Where are yours? Your students.”

Your kids. 

A stiff, cold silence settles over you both, the frigid sensation cruelly eating into Kakashi’s bones despite the heat of the baths, and you say nothing — but he can see the way your muscles have tensed in a way that looks painful, and he’d seen the way only you and a single lost-looking chunin had returned bloodied and bruised from a mission that had started out with six in number, and he knows. Kakashi knows what happened, he just doesn’t want to believe it. You’d had this pair of students at your back for years now, they were about to graduate entirely and leave your tutelage. Kakashi himself knew them both by name, had greeted them whenever he visited you for whatever reason; they’d both made homes for themselves in you and your house, and for you to be without them after striking out on a job with them was the only real evidence he needed of the truth. 

But again, he didn’t want to believe it. 

“Gone,” you finally mutter, voice cold and empty of emotion. “Information was bad. One of ours sold us out on top of it. We couldn’t catch a break.” Another long silence separates the two of you, and the small area of water between you both feels like an endless ocean. Kakashi silently mourns with you, knowing nothing could soothe the hurt of what’s already happened; you’d lost students before, twice before actually, but these had been the first you’d taken on in so long, and they’d been with you for years at this point. Adding onto the agony,  you’d only ever lost one at a time in those two instances before — and never your entire set. 

Kakashi wonders when and what he’ll have to tell his own students; they’d joined you and yours for exercises and more than a handful of missions in the past, and Kakashi knew how fond Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura were of the pair of seventeen year olds that followed your lead — but later. They’d hurt enough this week. “I — ” he starts to apologize, wanting you to know he understands, but you don’t let him. 

“It is what it is,” you almost growl, and Kakashi knows that you don’t want to speak about this anymore. He won’t make you. You never forced him to discuss his own losses, so what kind of person would he be to press yours?

The two of you sit in silence again, the tension slowly easing into a more comfortable aura, and you both finally relax, basking for an hour in the simple, easy quiet that had fallen between the two of you. You can hear each other’s breathing, can sense the soothing pulse of one another’s chakra, and it’s an easy existence. The two of you had always managed to rest together once your burning jealousy faded and Kakashi’s self-deprecation eased enough for him to accept the hesitant companionship you offered — not friends right away, but you’d started off by sharing a few drinks every now and then, and then meetings every other fortnight or so became weekly, then biweekly, and they finally evolved into happening whenever one of you felt the need to see the other. 

Like now. 

“God, my calves ache,” you grumble, finally breaking the silence again, and he doesn’t bother fighting off the fond smile that creeps up at the sound of your grumpy voice. He’d been nervous that the most recent mission would change everything, but that was foolish; neither of you were strangers to loss. You’d manage, as always. 

“If it makes you feel better, my shoulders feel like shit,” he offers, his soft smile widening upon hearing you snort. 

“You trying to one-up me, Hatake?” you ask lazily, sitting up and stretching. He turns to answer, and after seeing them so often it’s easy to practically ignore the way your breasts lift above the water and reveal half-hard nipples as you raise your arms. 

“I could make this a competition if you really wanted one,” he retorts easily, and your amused huff turns his smile to a slight grin. 

“Fuck you,” you reply. A warm, excited buzz starts to fill him, a feeling he frequently had when in your presence; god, he loved spending time with you, however it may be. 

“Right now? Normally we drink first,” he teases, and another silence falls between the two of you. Kakashi squeezes his eyes shut and kicks himself a little, wondering where the urge to say something that hinted at being vulgar to you had come from; this wasn’t one of his dirty romance novels, this was you, and Kakashi liked you. He didn’t want to fuck this up. 

He jumps a little at the feeling of someone straddling his lap, and when his eyes instinctively flick open they widen at the sight of you gazing down at him with a dirty grin twisting your lips. 

“Don’t tell me the old man can’t get it up after making the joke,” you tease in turn, and he starts grinning again. Why was he worried, again? This was you he was speaking to. You’d said much filthier things, things that would get you kicked out of most public places should you be overheard. 

“Big talk for someone with such a small dick,” he replies, tilting his head to the side while looking up at you, and you scoff. 

“I think my cock’s plenty large, Hatake,” you rumble, reaching between your bodies and taking his cock in one hand. A soft gasp leaps from his lips unintentionally, and you laugh breathily. “See? Large and still growing,” you murmur playfully through your messy grin, and Kakashi laughs in a way that devolves into a shaky whimper when you run your thumb across the sensitive underside of the tip of his cock. 

“I’m n-not sure that belongs to you,” he manages to choke out as you start pumping his shaft one-handed beneath the water, and you hum slightly. 

“Isn’t it?” you ask slyly, leaning down and beginning to lave hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck. You stop for a moment with your tongue pressed flat against his racing pulsepoint before biting slightly at it and sucking at the hot flesh before moving up to his jawline. Soft pleased noises are your reward from the man you’re straddling, and you smile softly against his heated skin in between kisses and bites before continuing. 

Your free hand begins to wander, gently beginning to massage the shoulders he’d complained of aching, all while covering him in love bites and kisses. “God, I’m so glad you’re home,” Kakashi whispers, his big hands coming to rest on your hips as you caress him with both your hands and your mouth. “Y’were gone so long-“ he’s interrupted when your mouth covers his so your tongues can lave over each other before you move on, and he keeps speaking. “-I kept getting so fucking hard and couldn’t do a damn thing about it without you, and I… Fuck, I missed you, I wanted you home, wanted you home so bad!” His deep voice comes out in a slight whine as his hips buck up into your loosely fisted hand, but you don’t fault him for it. Kakashi had always been especially sensitive to your touch, and this time was no different. 

He continues to nonsensically ramble as you play with his cock and drown him with your lips, your hips slowly starting a smooth rhythm of grinding against him to soothe the taut heat in your belly. 

“You talk too much,” you growl into his mouth, nipping at his lips in between kisses all while getting rougher and rougher with each roll of your hips and jerk of your hand. “Shut up and fuck me until you have to carry me out of the fucking hot springs.” It all comes out louder than you’d intended, something that makes Kakashi a little nervous; this wasn’t a private bathing area, anyone could come in at any time, and if you got caught the two of you would be blacklisted by the staff. You had to be careful. 

“Y’gotta shut that pretty mouth before you get us caught,” Kakashi moans, his callused hands grasping at your hips as the water sloshes around you. “F-Fuck, that feels good…!”

“I gotta shut my mouth?” you reply, voice filled with exasperated sarcasm. “Hatake, you’re whining like a virgin touching his first pair of tits, don’t even try me.”

“God, you’re such a fucking brat,” Kakashi groans, and you chuckle right before he captures his mouth with your own at the same time as you lift your hips. He does the same, freeing his cock from beneath the water, and you sink down on it before it really has a chance to start getting cold. The two of you moan into the other’s mouth at the simultaneous feeling of being filled and filling someone. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Hatake,” you whine breathily into him, and he moans deeply and rolls his hips up into yours in response. The only noises falling from those sinful lips of his are stuttered whines and groans, noises you mirror and respond to in kind as he fucks up into you at the same time you thrust down, the head of his cock slamming against your sensitive cervix as the cock your insides are practically moulded to carved out it’s usual place inside you. 

“F-Fuck yes — please, more!”  Kakashi whimpers, and you let your head fall back at the tone of his words, slamming down just a little bit harder. Water sloshes violently around the two of you, splashing up over the lip of the bath as the two of you roll your bodies together in that perfect way that the two of you were well practiced in. 

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you hold on tight and he brutally fucks his hips up into yours, water splashing and his heavy balls slapping audibly against you as he fills you to the brim with his cock. “O-Oooh-!” you moan suddenly, the noise swift and punched out of you. At the sound of it, Kakashi’s voice cracks. 

“Oh, God yes — harder, ride me fucking hard, just like that-!” 

His eyes are rolling up now, and the grip he has on your hips is bruisingly tight. One of his big hands runs up the length of your spine, his forearm crossing your shoulder blades while his hand grips desperately at your shoulder, tugging you closer to him and mashing your chests together. One of your own hands moves to cup the back of his head, your fingers disappearing into his white hair, and your own head lolls forward so your forehead rests against one of your arms around his shoulders. 

“Fuck, Kakashi,” you whisper out in a whine, moaning softly as he cants his hips up in the way he knows you like without even thinking. “A-aah-! Mmmhh… Oh, fuck…”

“S-So good,” he grunts, “Fuckfuckfuck — Y-Yes, c’mon, s’close-!” His rhythm is getting lost in the pleasured haze you’re both collapsing into. You can feel yourself on the brink, and you relinquish your grip around his shoulders with one hand to push the other between your grinding bodies to rub furious circles around your clit, your hips stuttering messily up into your own touch. 

“Y’gonna cum for me, Kakashi?” You ask breathlessly through a moan. “Gonna cum in me, gonn fill me up? Gonna breed my whore fuckin’ cunt?”

“Only a whore for me,” Kakashi growls plaintively against you, and you whine. 

“Y-Yeah, baby, only for you. ‘M all yours…” The promise has him moaning again, your own voice joining him as the two of you both ease closer and closer to the edge, a long drawn out series of filthy noises and sounds falling from both of your lips at the same time. 

The stone at least two feet outside of the baths is darkened by water that’s splashed over from the violent movements going on in the heated pools, and both you and Kakashi are sopping wet and soaked; anyone with a brain in their head would know what’s happened, people who frequent the public baths here aren’t typically idiots — but you don’t care. You’re too fucking close to cumming to give a fuck about the disgust, about the reports that would be made, about the notice that would be put up warning patrons of the consequences of being caught fucking on the property. 

“M’gonna cum,”Kakashi whimpers breathily, “God, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum so hard!”

“Yeah?” you ask weakly, letting out a gasped cry when he hits inside perfectly. “A-Aah! Y-Yes, yes — cum for me, Kakashi, fill me up!” You watch through a haze as his eyes roll back and his jaw drops, his mouth open and ready for the moment you spit in his mouth. A garbled cry echoes in his throat moments before he swallows what you’d given him, and two quick ruts up into you end with him keeping his hips up and grinding his cock inside as a familiar warmth spreads inside your cunt. You circle your clit faster and faster until your own orgasm washes over you, your own eyes rolling back and one twitching slightly as you clamp down on and begin milking his cock of all the cum it has to offer, pressing down into where he’s pushing up into you. 

Your grip on him tightens as you cling to him like some love-stricken beast, and he reacts in kind, squeezing you back and clutching your naked body close as his cock twitches inside of you with each new spurt of cum he releases inside. 

“Fuckin’ — F-Fuckin’ love you,” he mumbles into your skin as his heart races against yours, and you hold him close while he does the same with you. 

You press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. “Love you too,” you whisper, allowing yourself the simple pleasure. ‘I love you’s were only said in moments like this, with him balls deep inside where he belonged and filling you up like you deserved. 

The two of you rest with his cock still in you, basking in the afterglow before Kakashi finally breaks it. 

“Come home with me,” he says quietly. “Sleep in my bed with me tonight, wanna hold you to sleep.” You’re quiet for a moment, unsure, but eventually nod.

 “Okay,” you whisper. You’ll allow yourself the luxury of comfort, even if just for tonight. If anyone but Kakashi had offered it, though, you know you would have denied them. Kakashi just had a way about him that you couldn’t deny. “Let’s get out of this water and — and go home.” You hear his breath hitch when you refer to his home as your own, but don’t comment on it. Why would you, when not a word you’d uttered was a lie?

And hell, if the two of you fucked a handful more times around his house before falling asleep for over eleven hours, no one had to know but the two of you. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[some-bunniii]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 A crown for a princess

[by helloruirui on tumblr, colored by me]

Just my OC Kokabiel and her daughter making some pretty crowns.

I’ve had this scene written in my drafts about these two for a bit now, so I commissioned this nice piece as a visualization for it. Read more under the snippet!

Spring is the season when nature finally begins to breathe again. The animals awaken from their deep slumber, and the wildflowers begin anew and rise from the soil like a phoenix from the ashes.

Nestled deep into the mountains, far from the bustling human civilizations, was a lush forest not too far from a small, homey village.

Large swathes of open meadows snaked across the lush woodland, which was dappled with sunlight that managed to squeeze through the thick canopy of leaves.

Bright yellow flowers dotted the warmly lit grassy expanse. They danced along with the gentle breeze that whistled a natural tune as it blew through the clearing.

Small fingers wrapped around the stem of a dandelion, pulling it from the ground and lifting it towards a small girl’s nose.

She looked no older than seven, dressed in a dark blue tunic. Her rich, brown skin stood out from the greenery around her, and those tight, white braids that bounced across her shoulders were equally perplexing.

After inhaling the flora’s scent, the young child lifted another object into view. Stems of weeds and other wildflowers, intricately braided together to create a wreath-like adornment.

With careful fingers, she wove the dandelion into the braided stems, its yellow flower joining the array of colors of other blooming plants in her grasp.

She inspected the object in her hands, testing it for weakness. After feeling satisfied with her work, she turned towards the middle of the clearing and rushed off.

“Mama, Mama! Look!” The girl called, running toward a young woman sunbathing against a stump, her eyes closed and head upturned towards the sky as she drank in the warmth of the afternoon.

Her appearance was almost identical to the child’s, with the same deep, brown skin and long, white hair. Her hair was braided into thick locs that flowed down her back and reached the grass beneath her bare feet.

Freckles of white were sprinkled across her cheeks like starlight, hardly visible against the suns bright rays. Her eyes void of color, black like the sky during a new moon. A stark contrast to the woman’s ghostly white pupils, like twin moons shining from her gaze.

The golden halo that levitated just above her forehead shimmered in a warm, ethereal light.

An angel, sent down to take disguise and watch over the human’s constantly expanding population. A watcher, her superiors called it.

Kokabiel had been assigned a small village in the mountains, far from the bustling communities and away from watchful, angelic eyes that tracked her fellow watcher’s every moment.

She had kept her identity a secret, carefully crafted to hide her otherworldly appearance.

That didn’t stop the young girl from telling the village children that her mother came from the stars, but they never believed her.

Kokabiel’s eyelids fluttered open, her gaze shifting to follow her daughter’s approach as she straightened against the stump of an ancient, forgotten oak.

She shifted to sit on her knees as her daughter reached the flattened clearing of grass, the braided wreath tight in her little hands as she came to sit beside her mother.

“Look! I made a halo, just like yours!” She hovered the wreath just above her head, as if it was floating in midair, “Now, I can come along when you go back to Heaven.”

A soft chuckle escaped the angel’s lips, as she tilted her head at the display.

The child was too innocent to know, too naive to understand that the heavenly light above shined with such malevolence toward her existence.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, my love,” She shook her head with a smile.

The young girl visibly deflated, a frown etching onto her features as she sighed. The wildflower arrangement began to lower to the ground, before another set of hands reached out and gently grasped around the wreath.

“But, I think…” Kokabiel started, lifting it delicately above the girl’s head, before lowering it snug around her forehead, “You’d look much better as a princess, anyway.”

The soft settles tickled the girl’s forehead, and she giggled softly at sensation as gentle hands continued to adjust the crown.

“There, doesn’t that look much nicer?” Kokabiel nodded approvingly, lowering her hand from the crown to stroke her daughter’s cheek lovingly.

That smile brightened on the girl’s face, who then fell slowly against the grass. She stared up at the clouds that passed above the large forest, and Kokabiel settled against the stump once more.

“Will you take me flying tonight?” The girl spoke after a few moments, placing her palms together in a praying motion, as she pleaded through her gaze.

“I don’t see why not,” her mother shrugged in response.

That earned gleeful noises from her daughter, who pivoted to lay on her stomach and rest her chin against her hands.

“Oh, I wish I had wings like yours. That way, I could fly with you wherever you go, even back up there!”

“Oh, my little star,” the woman purred, lifting a hand to wipe away a small smudge of dirt from the child’s face, “You won’t ever need wings, because i’ll always be down here, with you.”

“You mean like forever?” The girl whispered with building glee, leaning in closer with a small smile, “You promise?”

“Of course! A century would pass and I would still be here to sing you to sleep,” Kokabiel nodded with a large smile, before her fingers wrapped around her daughter’s forearms and pulled her flush into the warmth of her chest.

“Mama, my crown!” The little girl gasped, pushing away from the woman to adjust the lopsided weave of stems back snugly onto her head.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” The angel moaned dramatically, clutching her chest, before a wicked grin graced her features, “I only wanted to… tickle the princess’s feet!”

Gripping her daughter’s ankle, Kokabiel lifted it into the air. Her nails skimmed across the sensitive skin at the bottom of the girl’s foot, who convulsed with laughter as she tried to playfully fight off her mother’s attack.

Deep in the meadow, the two would spend hours of bliss in each other’s company, unaware of the face hidden among the tall branches of the surrounding tree line.

Their halo shimmered against the darkness of the woods, and after a few moments, a pair of large, white wings extended across the canopy. It only took a few moments for them to lift into the air, and shoot off into the sky to report back to their heavenly superiors.

Oh, if only they could have known how easily a century on Earth could turn into an eternity in Hell.

Do you think, if the two have sworn through pinkies, that their promise could have outlived Heaven’s wrath?

*‘deep in the meadow’ starts to play*

Angelic kokabiel reveal, who still holds the same grace but lacks the snakes.

i’ve been working on more lore for koko, and developing some original concepts regarding heaven/hell/biblical stuff.

I think her daughters name is going to be Calliope, it’s a name that sticks in my brain for some reason but i’ve been trying to name along with the theme of stars/space, but can’t find anything that I like.

she is also a nephilim (mix of human and angel) and that’s a big no no to Heaven

i’ve got more little snippets + some more art of these guys hidden in my drafts that i may share down the road. but take another sketch of her pre-fallen!

[by hachii_ro on twt]

[whencyclopedia]

The Bear Man

The Bear Man is a Pawnee legend exemplifying the Native American understanding of the natural world and serving as an origin tale for the Bear Dance, which was performed to awaken the bears in spring from their winter hibernation and also to celebrate the season of choosing a mate. The Bear Dance is still performed by the Pawnee today.

The bear holds special significance for the Pawnee, as well as other Native American nations including the Ute, as a powerful animal and one of the Nahu'rac – the creatures who serve Ti-ra'wa ("Father Above"), as messengers and mediators – and who are considered brothers by various indigenous peoples. According to scholar Bobby Lake-Thom:

The Bear is always a good sign and a special power. He represents wisdom, insight, introspection, protection, and healing. If you see a Bear while hiking in the woods or along the river, then you know that a very sacred place is nearby. (78)

In The Bear Man, a father, concerned for his son, makes friends with a bear cub in hopes that the Nahu'rac will remember his kindness and look after his boy. Later in life, the Nahu'rac bears remember this kindness and repay it by bringing the boy back to life after he is killed in battle and teaching him their spiritual "medicine" (powers). The story shares similarities with other famous Pawnee tales including A Story of Faith and The Boy Who Was Sacrificed, which also feature the supernatural entities of the Nahu'rac.

The Bear Dance

In Native American belief, generally speaking, there is no spiritual difference between a human being, a plant, a tree, an animal, or a rock, as all things are imbued by the Creator with the same resonant energy. Humans are in no way superior to the natural world but are expected to act as stewards and care for their environment as they would for their own family and community. The Bear Dance grew out of this understanding as the dancers, as they perform wearing the bear hides which have been gifted to them by their bear relatives, become those bears and offer to others bear wisdom, healing, and power. Scholar Larry J. Zimmerman writes:

For Native North Americans, the boundaries between the world of the spirits and the world of living people were not clearly defined: a third "in-between" world of transition separated them. Every entity to some degree inhabited all three of these worlds. If a human carried out the appropriate rituals, he or she could be transformed into a being from one of the other two worlds.

Such transformations often duplicated events of the "beginning time" when the world came to be as it is through the agency of culture heroes and tricksters. On ceremonial occasions, an individual might assume the appearance of such a figure and be thought, literally, to become that being. When a holy man put on a yellow bear hide, for his audience he actually was the bear. (126)

The Bear Dance was (and is) always performed in the spring, waking the bears from their hibernation, and signaling the time for young men and women to choose mates. Among the Ute and Pawnee, the traditional roles of festivals are reversed at this time as men, instead of women, prepare the area for the dance, and women, instead of men, initiate the dance to find a suitable mate. The Bear Dance may last ten days to two weeks and honor the spirit of the bears as much as that of the community and the natural world at large.

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[swaglet]

yap post about architecture and climate. maybe you'll find it interesting

that post about architecture becoming homogenous across the world is true but it doesn't even mention how DANGEROUS something like that can be. like. humans started building permanent settlements depending on wherever their group ended up, and their individual climate determined what materials they built their shelters out of, how high off the ground/how deep they built them, how far from shore they built them, etc..... like. i'm not an architect i know next to nothing about architecture but you know what pisses me off? brick houses with asphalt or clay tile shingle roofs and a basement with solid brick foundation walls are the ultimate superior option where i live for climate control reasons. they are more resilient to tornadoes (especially the debris being flung around by the tornado so they're less likely to collapse from the debris), the inside of your house is kept cool during hot summer temperatures especially if you have trees and plants for shade outside your home above your roof, the inside stays warm when you heat it up and the heat doesn't readily escape through the brick walls or the roof tiles during the cold extended winter months, and you can open up the windows as you please during spring and fall because it's usually room temperature outside for most of those seasons anyway and then you can save on the heating/cooling bill and all that. like literally all year round. especially if you have a fireplace and a little bit of insulation in all your walls and the roof, you literally will have no heat escape and you won't even need to turn your heater on. the clay/asphalt roof tiles with any type of insulation under them make it so that your roof won't collapse if there's a ton of snow sitting on top of it even for weeks on end. both the material of the shingles and the insulation will stop the cold from seeping in and it'll stay warm even though there's like a foot of snow on your roof. we have asphalt tile shingles that have not been replaced or even touched in 20 years since this house was built and there has never been a single leak of water into this house from the ceiling and by god does it rain something fierce here. there have been tree limbs and rocks and shit flung at the roof during small tornadoes and the worst thing that happened was a few tiles got dislodged and we put them back up after the storm was over.

this is an extremely wooded area. pennsylvania is literally means "Penn's forest country" we are THE state for timber and wood and whatnot. if a tree were to fall on your brick house with clay/asphalt shingles after it was blown over or struck by lightning in a storm, it has a lot better of a chance of staying intact than a flimsy wooden beam house with a thin metal sheet for a roof and some more wooden beams underneath it. your plastic siding panels made to look like wood are all going to crack and crumble and like. explode. the moment that tree hits your house. that tree is coming into your living room. if lightning strikes your house, or your porch, or anything near your house like a tree or your garage or anything flammable, your house could be engulfed in flames and you will burn to death. that literally happened here not even a year ago btw. there was a really bad storm and lightning struck a tree in someone's backyard and the tree caught fire and it eventually fell and crashed through their porch and lit their whole house on fire and to add salt to the wound it landed on their power box outside their house so it exploded everything inside so all their wires caught fire as well and everyone except a little girl died because it happened in the middle of the night. brick houses are fire resistant and so are clay&asphalt tiles and that was a freak ass accident and since the flaming tree hit their power box they probably still would have been fucked anyway if they didn't have a cheap ass modern infrastructure fuck ass house but maybe stuff like that would happen less if we paid attention to what our climates are like and what materials are best for our area........... rip to that family i drive past the lot that their house was on almost everyday and think about them

Idk i rant about this shit all the time to my boyfriend like. i wish the housing market (and the market in general) wasn't absolutely diabolical right now because i genuinely want to build a small little cozy house sims-style someday, from scratch, that is entirely based on the climate and weather of where i live and make it as power efficient and safe as possible. Does anyone else ever think about this stuff

Like. Why the hell are all the houses being built nowadays all made with fugly ass metal roofs and shitty ugly fake wooden panel siding on the outside. So inefficient, so useless, so swagless. What is the purpose. We added an extension to our garage recently and metal roofing was the only affordable option and if you step inside that part of the garage it boils you alive in the summer if it's hot out. i CANNOT imagine that shit on top of my real life actual house