#they drink tea in the field of flowers together

[fandomxo00]

Cowboy like me - Logan Howlett fanfiction

Request: Could I request farmer old logan x pregnant young reader (like the photos of him picking up flowers in the field) Yn was a snooty and spoiled city girl but she fell in love with Logan during her vacation and ran away with him. With a lot of breeding kink, lactance kink and DomLogan, subreader

Note: Not into lactation kink but I love the rest!! omg i love old logan/slash hugh with a beard, getting dirty dirty thoughts grrr, smut and fluff below! farmer!logan x citygirl!reader

You sat on the outside as the sun came over the one of the further hills of grass. Your feet on the ground, slowly rocking the porch swing as you breathed in that fresh breeze. You saw Logan from afar, he was working in the barn this morning as he did every morning. Then he'd be out in the field for some of the day, but he wasn't the main owner of the land and wasn't the only employee.

Logan knew that he slowly dying, and that continuing to fight would wound up in his death. That maybe he'd have a chance of living longer if he backed away. So, he went out to find an old friend, giving him a plot of land to build a house on. The labor was hard for him but nowhere near gunshot wounds. Logan focused on the animals he was raising, learning about going out into the field. He had taken to the farmer life literally and he thinks that farming was the reason he was alive right now. He'd even traded whiskey for coffee, only having a drink on occasion. There wasn't as much out of a need for it, there was less pain that he had to numb. Though the loneliness started creeping up on him in the last year or so, thinking of meeting someone to settle down with. Even in his old age, deep down he had always wanted a family.

Then his friend went out of town, wanting to set up their house as an air b'n'b whatever the fuck that meant. That's when he met you, the first day you stayed you called about the wifi password. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was going to come over to help look for the box since his neighbor wasn't replying to his texts. When he showed up and saw a b m w he was slightly confused, before slightly irritated at the idea of this being some obnoxious city girl.

When he opened the door all the thought was, "Pretty." Feel from his lips as his cheeks heated up like he was a boy with a crush. That's what he felt like when he wanted a shiver roll up your spine as you blushed.

"Actually it's Y/n." You laughed. "Are you---?"

"Logan, yeah." He nodded, as you stepped back and invited him in. Logan's eyes widened when he saw the bags placed all over the living room. "Did you need any help with those?"

"Nah, I got it." You shrugged.

"Anyway, gotta find the wifi box." Logan hummed, as you nodded.

You had offered him some tea afterwards, he had politely accepted, intrigue by you. The two of you got to talking and wound up having dinner together. It was slow in the very beginning, though you'd talked into the late night neither one of you made a move. Though both of you grew fond of each other in the small amount of time. Logan's heart was open right now, and it seemed like you wanted to take it. He'd come over the next day with a basket of eggs, milk, bread and jam.

"Did you bake this?" You asked, inviting him inside. Logan cleared his throat as he nodded, while walking inside. "The jam-."

"That was from the local market in town." Logan confirmed as you hummed.

"This was very sweet of you."

"No problem, doll." He grinned over at you, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes lingered on his, the feeling making his heart accelerates as he spoke to you. Logan's eyes trailing to your lips, before he asked you to go on a walk with him before dinner tonight. You'd come out in a beautiful white dress, and boots. He smirked over at you, "Maybe you should change your shoes."

"Oh, I'll be fine. I have to walk around the city all the time!" You smiled over at him, as you lightly waved your hand at him.

Though 15 mintues into the walk you hit a rather muddy spot, something Logan suspecting happening. "Um, can you pick me up?"

"What now?"

"I don't wanna do this." You pouted. "My shoes are all muddy and keep sticking to the ground. And M'so upset that my favorite boots were ruined just because i wanted to impr-." You felt a flush come over your body, whether it was visible or not, you felt heat on your chest, cheeks and the tips of your ears.

"I was gonna say yes the first time, princess."

"Why don't you call me that while you carry me back to your house." You suggested, pointing over at his house that was just across the way. Closer than your house was at this point. Logan's arm wrapped around your legs and waist, making you squeal as he picked you up, giggly, while looking up into his soft hazel eyes. Your hand naturally coming up to his cheek, feeling the wirey hair of his beard beneath your fingers. Logan's arms tightened around you as he walked out of the bed, the cowboy boots he was wearing making it far easier for him. He tried not to drop you at the way you were looking at him, nearly made his knees weak.

When you got back to his house, you slipped out of your boots before following Logan inside "M cold." Logan walked over to the couch, grabbing a blanket and he thought about tossing it over to you. But instead, he walked over to you, shaking the flannel blanket out before wrapping it around your shoulders. Your bright eyes looked up at him, making his jaw clench as he kept his hands on the bed of your blanket. You licked your lips before leaning forward to kiss him, his lips met yours in a feather-like kiss. Hesitancy in both of you, from a slow blossoming friendship that was real hiding the real romantic tension between the two of you. Your hands come to the blanket, pulling it tight as you lean into Logan's chest, his hands moving up to your head, flattening his hands against your hair as his lips interlocked with yours in slow thoughtful kisses.

"You do this to impress all the girls?" You asked, as he chuckled against your lips.

"Whatta mean?" He husked, looking down into your eyes as playful grin spread across your face.

"The whole basket, going on a walk, charming the pants off of girls."

"Haven't done this in a long while, doll. To be frank, I'm trying to settle down, live out the rest of my life in peace and-then you walk into my life all sweet eyes and strong-willed." His hands move to hold up the blanket around your hips as you let go to put your hands on his chest. You felt the hard muscle under your hands, your eyes gleaming up at him with want and adoration.

"You asking me to settle down with you?" You laughed.

"No, but I'm saying I want something serious."

"Well I could look forward to that." You grinned, your hands trailing over his strong stomach.

"How about." Logan started, starting to back you up until you hit the table with an 'oompf'. "You sit and be a good girl."

"W-what?" You blushed.

"Can I taste your sweet little pussy?" Logan hummed, dipping his head into your neck as his deep voice tumbled through you.

"Y-yeah." You murmured, as he pushed you back on the table, the blanket falling around your body as his hands came the hem of your pants. Logan tugged them down swiftly, along with your panties, before spreading your legs out. He got down on his knees as his hands came to your ass. Pulling your cunt to his face so he could dive his mouth into you. "Fuck." You gasped, your hand coming to his hair to balance yourself, the feeling of his rough beard rubbing against your inner folds made you slicker.

"Taste so fucking good." Logan grunted, spitting on your sex, his thumb coming up to rub at your clit. His lips found your inner thighs, his salt and pepper beard creating a little rash against your skin as he sucked marks into your skin. His fingers dipping into your entrance, your slick coding his fingers as he slowly pulled them out to see your translucent arousal covering his index and middle finger. "Can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock." Your walls fluttered around his fingers as your hips relaxed in his palm, his hips rutted into the air. "You like that? Like imagining me inside you? Breeding your little cunt?"

"Logan-." You moaned, arching your back as the hand resting on your hip moved to cup over your breast.

"Sound so fucking pretty." Logan groaned the vibrations rumbling through you as you started feeling an orgasm well up in your stomach. The way his finger curled inside of you, rubbing the spongy part of you made you crumble while his tongue swirled around your clit. "Good girl." He hummed, his mouth coming down to your slit, licking up your come with a slurp before pulling back. Logan's large hand splayed out on your forehead, pushing back your hair roughly as your hand came to his belt. Your hands were quick before pushing his jeans back. Logan's hands came down to his briefs to pull them down before coming to lift your shirt over your head, not giving you time to see him. But then your eyes landed on his proud erection, his cock thick, veiny and pulsating. The idea of him filling you made your thighs clench together, you bet he'd hit every little place. Your hands reaching back to unclasp your bra as you fantaized about him.

The look in your eyes at Logan in a trance before he grabbed on to your roughly. Gasping as he filled you, before fucking you to the point where you saw stars. Claiming you with his words, his mouth on your skin and his cock bruising your cervix. "Gonna fill you with my cum baby, give you my babies." You moaned out at that, the sound long and wanton making him move faster and harder against you. "Fucking keep you fucked and bred."

"Yes-Logan fuck." You chanted.

tags: @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[zeravmeta]

moments after the knk event ends void hops onto discord and dms king hassan like "duuude there was this really funny guy you should check them out sometime they got my trampstamp on em" and king hassan replies with a singular but powerful "bitchin"

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

-------

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them?  Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

 You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

 The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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

Thanks for reading! If you'd like read the last part of Isla a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon(X)!

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

omg I just find you and your writings are amazing♥️

Can you please do some husband headcanons please?

surely, i can try my best, thanks for the ask!!

Husband Headcanons I

for Iruka, Kakashi, and Itachi (with wildcard appearances from Jiraiya and Obito) (GN!Reader)

Your fav isn't mentioned? Check out Husband Headcanons 2!

Warnings: couple swear words, couple sexual references (Reader Discretion advised), fluff, lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Would suggest the springtime for the wedding, but Iruka would still happily marry you whenever your heart desired

Danced with you throughout the entire reception, only getting tipsy (enabling you to get comfortably inebriated)

Begs to carry you over the threshold like a gentleman, and the two of you spent the whole night consumating the union

Best sex you had ever had, and Iruka was of the same mind - both of you were totally in your element on your wedding night, and couldn't stop until noon the next day

Honeymoon takes place in the Land of Flowers, within a small settlement near the coast

Iruka pays for a week's stay at an Inn, and the two of you spend the days watching the water and walking through wildflower fields, collecting colourful, fragrant bouquets as you went

Domestically, such a teamplayer - Iruka will happily do the dishes after you cook dinner, and vice versa, he'll mop after you sweep, he turns on lights for you while you open windows

Would happily have a pet, probably a cat (orange or calico), but wouldn't be opposed to something a bit more spunky like a gekko or a rat

Dances with you in the living room while it rains, takes you (and your pet) out in the sunshine - he just loves to spend time with you and be with you

Kakashi

The wedding was small, kept to just close friends and your immediate family, probably just within the courthouse with a nice little reception after

Kakashi would carry you all the way from the reception to your shared apartment, right over the threshold, and it would take only a Hokage-level emergency to get him away from you after

Can't take a very long honeymoon because of his duties as Hokage, but will take you out for a long weekend in one of the coastal villages of the Land of Fire

Despite the long hours he works, Kakashi is the most attentive husband ever

Fresh flowers decorate a crystal vase on the coffee table, replaced every week, the trash is always taken out without you having to ask, he'll surprise you with full breakfasts on the weekends AND do the dishes after

Gets all bubbly every time he hits someone with a my spouse and is constantly bringing you up in conversation just to do so

Many nights are spent cuddling on the couch after dinner, reading independantly

You want a dog? Lovely! Kakashi wants a dog. You want a cat? Great! Kakashi wants a cat. A bird? A snake? A gerbil? Bring it on, that sounds fun.

Such a funny man, still needing to parade around the village with you in his arm, as if not everybody is already aware

Itachi

We're doing an Everything'sFine!AU because I'll cry otherwise

Massive wedding, so many floral arrangements, easily half the village shows up, Itachi cannot stop smiling the entire day

Literally tears up at the altar when he sees you, can't contain himself, you're such a vision

Takes you to the Land of Waterfalls for the most peaceful honeymoon of all

You two spend a week, or two, meditating with each other, drinking special teas, swimming for hours, wrapped in a lover's embrace that knits your hearts together even closer

Of course, in the hustle and bustle of the weekdays, Itachi establishes Saturday as Cleaning Day, and will clean the entire house, top to bottom, by himself (but will very much appreciate any help you provide)

Sunday is the day Itachi reserves to spend with you, either out on the town, or in the house, resting and relaxing together

Compliments every single look of yours as if it's the first time he's ever seen you, Itachi just can't believe his luck, and gets heart palpatations every single time he hears you call him your husband

Gets way more vulnerable after marriage, allowing himself to open up with a different level of confidence

Jiraiya

Destination wedding so people don't want to come, he wants the ceremony to be perfect and intimate

Gets so fucked up at the reception that you have to carry him over the threshold

He's such a sweetie about it when he wakes up though, apologising and fucking you reaaal good the entirety of the next day

Takes you on a month of travel, literally to every single Land

Writes you special poems and stories to wake up to while he's cheffing up the best breakfasts ever

Writes an entire book about you, and it was a best-seller

No one makes a better cup of tea than Jiraiya, and he's always got a tea ready for when you wake up, when you come home, after dinner

The absolute king of being in the same room while doing separate things, you're in his lap or holding his non-dominant hand, and every once in a while you'll share a brief kiss that might evolve into something a bit more distracting

Hugging and kissing as soon as you come home - he missed you so damn bad and needs to let you know

Is a very organized messy, but not at all dirty, Jiraiya doesn't mind when you clean up after him but would honestly prefer you didn't (he can't find things after, even if you tell him exactly where you put things)

Birthdays, Anniversaries, any opportunity to shower you in love and gifts, Jiraiya will take it and run with it

He just adores you and lets everyone know about it

Obito

Goofball gets an Officiant Certification and marries the two of you, himself

His vows are so long and so sweet that you can't even get yours out without stuttering and crying

Obito whisks you away to the Land of Hotsprings for nearly a month, immediately after the rings are exchanged

Finds nothing more fun than going out on dates with you while married, he almost likes it more than when you two were just going steady

Can't stand to let you sleep while he's awake, no matter how poorly he feels about depreiving you of sleep

Kisses and hugs every time the two of you are reunited

Obito won't ever shut up about you when you're apart, and it gets on everyone's nerves but Konan who finds his musings sweet

Lives, loves, laughs domestic life - he will do anything to make you happy, including the most grueling chores (those fucking baseboards)

Always makes you laugh, no matter how you're feeling, and he loves your laugh more than anything

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical cursing, heavy suggestive themes, non-descriptive intimacy, domestic/soft/playful Simon, flirting, kissing, canon-typical mentions of violence, military-based discussions, brief trauma reflection

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part Twelve of Ink & Needle

You and Simon spend the morning in bed together. Amelia and Evie corner Simon in the kitchen. Price, Soap, and Gaz finally talk to Simon about the mission.

Chapter Eleven // Chapter Thirteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Tea.

Eggs—large, at least two dozen.

Bread.

Bulk butter.

Milk—full fat.

Flour.

Batteries.

Postal stamps.

Chi—

The electric kettle shuts off and Simon sets into routine, brewing his morning tea without a second thought. The hour is early, and the sun hardly breaks the horizon. Simon’s flat is almost completely dark except for the faintest bits of light that creeps in as the sun’s rays skim over the tops of nearby buildings.

Simon disposes of the tea bag and holds the steaming mug in both hands. Yes, it’s hot, but the warmth is comforting. It grounds him. Keeps his resolve from snapping and returning to a different warmth.

He starts over, listing all the things he’s growing low on.

Tea. Eggs. Bread.

You’re in his flat. In his bedroom. In his bed.

Naked. Flour. Asleep. Batteries.

Soft. Postage stamps. Bare beneath the sheets. Still slick between the thighs.

Fuck.

Simon pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply. He needs to get a fucking grip. Every instinct within him commands Simon to go crawl into bed, to wake you up, and to slide between your legs. To greet the day with you beneath him.

That can’t happen.

Not because Simon doesn’t want to but because he wants to do this right. You deserve more than a dirty couch in a club’s green room. You deserve more than a quick moment of passion. You deserve patience and attention, to have someone focus on you and only you.

You may already be his, but not entirely. Not completely.

Not yet.

But, when Simon makes it happen, when the two of you finally bind this into something solid and real, you’ll never want to him leave. Simon will make sure of it.

Lingering in the kitchen, Simon drinks his tea, allowing the vestiges of sleep to seep out of his muscles and bones. His fucking jaw hurts, but that hardly matters to him. Not after what he did last night, or how you bloomed like a flower.

Spread wide. Perfect. Open.

Just for him.

Only for him.

Bravo nudges Simon’s thigh with the tip of his wet nose. Absently, Simon reaches down and scratches between the dog’s ears. The German Shepard leans into it, his eyes closing slightly with contentment.

Sighing, Simon pats the top of Bravo’s head. Sauntering toward the bedroom door, Simon leans against the frame, arms crossed, one hand clutching his tea mug. He watches you snooze for a few minutes. Most of you is covered by the bedding, but Simon glimpses just a hint of bare arm and shoulder. You’re completely submerged under there, and if Simon listens hard enough, he can hear a gentle snore.

To him, it’s cute. You might not find it so.

Simon rubs the back of his neck as Bravo pads into the room, gently jumping up into the bed. He doesn’t disturb you. Instead, the black-furred dog circles three times before settling.

You’ll wake eventually and Simon isn’t wearing his mask.

Simon hasn’t put it on since he took it off last night. There, in the dark, he removed it, only wanting to taste you. Simon isn’t ashamed of his face or his scars. He doesn’t consider himself ugly. It’s just…habit to put the mask on. He was Ghost in the field. Now, he’s Ghost in his shop.

Mysterious. Different. Detached.

He was Ghost when he met you at Riot Room, and now he’s Simon. Just…Simon.

Running his tongue over his teeth, Simon turns around and heads back into the kitchen. While Simon is a tea drinker, he keeps coffee on hand. Simon isn’t one for smashing energy drinks or soda even though his sweet tooth can be a fucking fiend, but sometimes he needs an extra kick.

Taking his time, Simon measures out and drops the ground coffee into the filter. From there, he closes the machine lid, filling the carafe, turning the ancient machine on. It hums and it’s almost too loud. A little green light comes on, and Simon steps away, checking the fridge. There are still a few eggs and bacon. Flour is low but he might be able to scrape up enough to whip up pancakes.

His stomach growls softly and Simon shuts the fridge.

Back in the bedroom, you still snooze softly, and Simon takes this time to clean up. He can still taste you on him, but it is faint, nearly a foreign sensation. Grabbing a towel, Simon hops into the shower. He scrubs down, brushes his teeth, even dries his hair.

Simon tugs on the balaclava, wearing nothing else except black boxer briefs. Stepping back into the bedroom, Simon pauses, noticing tussled hair and sleepy eyes.

“Morning,” says Simon.

You stretch, the grey sheet covering your breasts slipping a bit, nearly revealing nipple. You catch it just in time, stifling a yawn.

“Good morning,” you reply, the raspiness of sleep still clinging to your vocal cords.

Bravo rolls over onto his side, oblivious to the two of you.

“Shower’s available.” Simon gestures with a shrug of his shoulder in the direction of the bathroom.

Your gaze follows and then promptly returns to Simon. At first, your face is blank, and then, slowly, it drifts into a sultry mischievousness that sends blood straight to his groin. Any more of this and Simon will come undone.

“I don’t want to shower,” you murmur, some of the bedding slipping from your fingers. It’s dangerously close to revealing all of you. Last night you were bare for him, but the two of you were in the dark, and Simon only saw pieces of you. It wasn’t nearly enough, and now it’s almost too much.

The thought of your naked body within reach, wanting him, saying so with words alone is enough to start to crack at his resolve.

Fuck. Fucking hell.

“What do you want?” Simon almost doesn’t recognize himself. What comes out of him is a needy groan.

The slow blink before your response sends signals to his feet to start moving. “I want you to come to bed,” you reply.

Simon stops right at the edge of the bed, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. All he has to do is tug and the bedding will fall away.

“And do what?” prompts Simon, the restraint within him oozing off him to slip between the cracks in the wood floor.

Bravo’s ears perk up and then his head. He glances between the two of you and immediately slinks out of the bed, hurrying away. Simon listens for the dog door and then places one knee on the edge of the bed. Some of his joints resist the movement, those old wounds making themselves known. But Simon ignores them all, his full attention fixed on the woman asking him to join her.

“Whatever you want, Simon.”

Whatever he wants? There are so many things he wants. Simon wants to make you his, to keep you here, to never let you go. None of those are options right now. No. Not yet. But he can still play.

Simon’s fingers curl around the topmost sheet. He tugs, ripping them out of your grasp and away from your body. You immediately cover yourself, legs crossing in front of you and your arms resting across your chest.

The moment the bedding is out of his way, Simon wraps his fingers around your left ankle to drag you closer.

“Simon!” you gasp, but it is all teasing.

“Come here,” he growls, using the natural weight of his body to propel him fully onto the bed and push you down on your back. Your arms and legs fall away then, opening for him, and Simon slots himself between, his mouth already seeking yours.

Simon kisses and touches until your soft giggles become moans. His mouth seeks lower ground. Lower still, and then those moans become shaky and limp legs with gasping breath. You reach for him, and Simon leans into your touch, allowing you to stroke and caress until his haughty, smug smile becomes something else entirely.

With his balaclava-covered face pressed against your neck, Simon inhales, wrapping his large arms around you. He helps your limp-limbed form slide out of bed, and somehow guides you into the shower. While you’re scrubbing away at your skin and scalp, Simon is in the kitchen, managing to prepare breakfast with the little he has.

It’s Sunday, and Simon has absolutely fucking nothing to do. It’s always been Dancing Faun, drinks, and then finding someone on his roster to have it off with. But Simon doesn’t need to do that. He doesn’t need anyone or anything but you. If you want it, he’ll spend his entire Sunday in your presence, partaking in whatever it is you’re interested in doing.

When you emerge wearing nothing but one of his shirts, Simon has to squash the urge to bend you over the table.

“Breakfast,” rasps Simon, grabbing a plate to distract himself.

“Please,” you sigh, approaching him and placing a hand on his lower back.

“Little of everything?”

You nod, giving Simon’s shoulder a quick kiss before walking over to the dining table. Simon’s body vibrates with happiness. He overloads your plate and his, bringing the coffee and a newly made kettle to the table.

“Plans for the day?”

You shake your head, yawning. “No. But I do need to check on Evie.”

Simon checks the time on his phone. It’s nearly the afternoon. “After breakfast I’ll walk you.”

When you go to change back into your clothes, Simon is handsy, grabbing at bare thigh and waist just because he can. You giggle through the whole thing, the two of you ending up on the floor with your limbs intertwined and your mouths meeting.

It takes forever for the two of you to make it out the door. The walk is short but slow. Simon drags it out, keeping you close to his body as the cool autumn air kicks up. His hand delves, teasing, keeping you playful the whole walk to Amelia’s.

You’re still fumbling with the key to the front door when Evie yanks it open. Simon promptly hides the view of his hand under your sweater. Simon isn’t fast enough because Evie’s grin is downright feral.

“Good afternoon.” She pointedly emphasizes “afternoon” by glancing in Simon’s direction. Her dark hair is piled up on the top of her head in a messy bun, and the robe she’s wearing is untied, revealing pink pajamas and a massive belly.

“Sorry, Evie,” you laugh, awkwardly shifting away from Simon to dislodge his hand.

Still glancing at Simon, Evie snags your upper arm, hauling you inside. Simon steps in after you. Bravo shoves his way in, navigating the cramped entry space and aiming for the kitchen. The German Shepard rounds a corner, and Simon hears Amelia greet the dog.

“Go change,” urges Evie, shoving you toward the stairs. “Take a shower too.”

“I did,” you snap with a laugh.

“Take another one. I can smell you.”

You flip Evie the bird and she gives one right back. Glancing over your shoulder at Simon, he gives you the slightest of shrugs. He doesn’t want to be left alone with Evie and Amelia, but he’ll deal with it.

The moment you disappear to the top level, Evie is turning that feral grin on Simon, her hands on her hips. Amelia appears like a phantom in the doorway where the entryway and living room meet.

“Made tea,” says Amelia. She’s wearing her gardening clothes. There are dirty patches on the knees.

“No thank you,” replies Simon.

“You’re having tea.” One of Amelia’s eyebrows arches like she’s begging him to question her.

Simon nods instead of refusing again.

Right. He’s having tea.

In the kitchen, Bravo is munching away on a small pile of dog treats. Simon sighs, watching the German Shepard happily chew them up one by one. He takes a seat at the table, the two women joining him.

At the center of the table are chicken salad sandwiches on plain white bread, an open bag of crips, and a bowl of mixed fruit. Evie starts piling her plate while Amelia distributes the tea.

“Hungry?” Amelia asks Simon, offering him a plate.

He’s fucking full from breakfast, but he’s not refusing this like he did with the tea. “Yes, thank you.”

Amelia plops a sandwich on Simon’s plate, scoops out a heaping portion of fruit, and shakes a mountain of crips out.

“Weather is expected to cool off in the next few weeks.” Amelia shrugs. “That’s what the forecaster says anyway.”

Evie places her hand on her belly. “Hopefully she’ll be out by then.”

Simon glances at the spot where Evie’s hand rests. “You’re due soon?”

“Yes. Very soon. Due date is technically a week out but could happen any day.”

Simon nods, his tattooed fingers playing with the handle of the tea mug. He stares at the pile of food in front of him and frowns. Simon is so absorbed with his own thoughts, that it takes him a few moments to recognize the absolute silence.

He glances up only to find Amelia and Evie leaning back in their chairs, bemused expressions on their faces as they observe him.

“What?” he blurts, suddenly nervous.

Amelia and Evie exchange a look.

“You remember our conversation?” asks Amelia softly.

Simon crosses his arm, shifting in his seat. His phone digs into his thigh and he adjusts again. “I do,” he replies slowly.

Amelia nods. She glances down at Simon’s plate. “Haven’t touched your food. Something wrong?”

Fuck.

Simon pushes up the balaclava enough to shove a few crisps into his mouth. They’re cheese and onion flavored. It’s the wrong choice. The only sound in the room are the crunching crisps in Simon’s mouth. Amelia and Evie still stare at him.

He swallows, the half-chewed food nearly sticking in his throat. Simon hastily drinks his tea.

“How’s business?” asks Amelia once Simon sets the tea back onto the table.

“Busy.”

“I would hope so. Saw you on the cover of a magazine while shopping. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” says Simon, bit of heat warming the tops of his cheeks.

Evie’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s wonderful. What magazine?”

“UK Ink,” he answers. “Best tattoo artist.”

“Very deserved,” says Amelia, lifting her tea.

“You’ve never been in my shop,” chuckles Simon.

Amelia shrugs. “But I see you almost every Sunday, and Ben is always bragging about you.”

Simon shifts again in his chair from embarrassment. His phone digs into his ass this time. Frowning, Simon removes it from his pocket and places it on the table facedown.

“You’re being polite,” says Simon, attempting to push the praise off him.

Evie chews quietly, her gaze darting between Amelia and Simon. Over her shoulder, Simon glimpses a series of photographs. One of them is a wedding photo, a recent one. The woman he recognizes as Evie, and the man she leans against must be her dead husband.

Simon’s phone buzzes, but he ignores it. He really needs you to finish showering and changing your clothes. The phone ceases and Simon goes for some fruit this time.

Amelia opens her mouth to reply but Simon’s phone kicks up again. She promptly shuts her mouth and glances at the device.

“They’ll leave a message,” says Simon dismissively. Sometimes business calls are rerouted to his personal phone. During the week, it’s not an issue, but on a day like today, it’s annoying.

Amelia inclines her head, but Simon’s fucking phone won’t stop. It starts buzzing again.

“You should answer that.” Amelia nods toward it.

Simon stares down at the phone, all the food in his stomach suddenly solidifying. There are only a few people who would relentlessly call Simon like this. The cellphone stops, begins again, and Simon’s frown deepens.

He picks it up, turning the screen over to face him.

Price.

Fuck.

Simon lets it go to voicemail.

When the buzzing begins again, Amelia tuts. “Answer it or I’m chucking it into the garden.”

“Excuse me,” murmurs Simon, pushing his chair back and standing, heading for the living room. When Simon nears the entryway, he answers the phone, bringing it up to his ear.

“Price,” he says flatly.

“Simon.” Price’s greeting is polite but reserved. “Were you sleeping?”

“No.”

Price grunts on the other end. “Have you handled your business?”

He means you. Last night floods into Simon’s mind, bringing up Adam and the whole fucking mess of an evening.

“Yes,” answers Simon, though he hears the slight shake in the way he says it.

“Is tonight good?”

Simon silently swears. He wants to spend the day with you, not talk to the boys about their upcoming mission. But Simon made a promise to them, and he intends to see it through.

Simon licks his lips and sighs. “Meet me outside the shop.”

Price rattles off a time and Simon agrees, knowing that he won’t have much time with you between now and then.

Simon ends the call right as you come down the stairs. You’re already moving toward him and Simon instantly reaches out, seeking you. When your hand slides into his, Simon pulls you close. Placing your other hand on his chest, Simon leans down and seeks your lips for a kiss.

“You taste like onion,” you murmur.

Simon chuckles before drawing back a bit. “Amelia fed me.”

“She tends to do that.”

He adjusts his grip, drawing you into his side so Simon can wrap his arm around your waist. Over your shoulder, he notices Amelia and Evie dangerously leaning around the corner in the chairs, trying to watch from a distance. Even Bravo is poking his head around the corner.

“I have to go,” murmurs Simon, brushing a few damp strands from your face to tuck behind your ear.

Your smile faulters slightly and Simon immediately regrets saying anything at all.

“Right now?” you ask.

Simon shakes his head. “Not right now. In an hour.”

“Did something happen?”

No. Yes. Maybe? Simon has no clue what the boys want to talk to him about. They’ve never been shy about asking him for advice or looking something over for them. But rarely have they ever asked to come in person to discuss something confidential.

“You remember the men who escorted Adam out the pub last night?”

The middle of your brow scrunches. “Yes?”

“Our evening was…interrupted. Just need to finishing up with them.”

“I see.” You glance down and then back to Simon’s face. “My fault?”

“No,” he says, drawing you closer against him. “Don’t think that.” Simon kisses you for good measure. “Can we make plans for later this week?”

Your fingers tangle with the fabric of his shirt. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Simon checks over your head to find Amelia and Evie still watching from their chairs. “They’re nosy, aren’t they?”

You laugh. “Wouldn’t you be?”

Simon inclines his head, knowing that’s true. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Need some help finishing the plate Amelia made me.”

In front of Simon is an empty whiskey glass.

It’s the first one, and Simon expects to have plenty more as the evening progresses. Ben, the owner of Dancing Faun strides over, removing the glass and placing down a fresh one.

“Might need this,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice like thunder. Ben places a half-full whiskey bottle down next to Simon’s glass.

Simon nods in thanks as Ben turns his back and disappears behind the bar.

This isn’t the evening for beer. Simon needs something strong if the three grim faces staring back at him are any indication. Johnny has a Scotch, Price has whiskey like Simon, and Gaz has tequila.

All hard edges here. Nothing soft.

Ben closed up Dancing Faun early to give them some space and privacy. The sun isn’t down yet but the light hardly makes it into the front window. The four of them sit around a square table, one to each side. Inside the pub, the lights above the bar and the one directly above their table are on.

Simon’s gaze darts to each of the men he knows as brothers. Price, who is always tired and complaining of heartburn, appears exhausted like he’s been awake for days. Gaz is subdued, his mouth turned downward into a slight frown. Johnny, who is always upbeat, is quiet and calm.

It’s fucking weird seeing them like this. It doesn’t sit right with Simon. Whatever is on their minds is eating away at them. Either something is completely fucked, or he’s about to hear something unpleasant.

Ben stays behind the bar cleaning glassware, taking inventory, and occasionally disappearing into the back. The man is discreet when he needs to be, and if he overhears anything, Ben won’t snitch or turn around to spread it to others.

Simon isn’t worried about that, but he is worried about Price, Gaz, and Soap.

“Why the long faces?” asks Simon, attempting to joke but failing completely.

Price sighs heavily. “He’s back, Simon.”

It’s such a vague way of putting it. He could mean anyone. Task Force 141 made plenty of enemies while Simon was part of it. Hell—Simon made plenty of enemies just from working in SAS. He’s executed so many missions they’re almost a blur to him.

“Who?” prompts Simon. “Makarov?”

That would be a fucking joke if that wanker got out. Simon would certainly need to be on alert but not overly concerned. It’s not like Simon is in the way anymore.

Price shakes his head while Johnny and Kyle exchange a look. “Makarov is still in prison. Securely. Last time I checked.”

“And when was that?”

“A week ago,” replies Price.

“A week is a long time.”

“It’s not Makarov,” interjects Kyle, his fingers tapping the side of his glass.

Simon glances in Kyle’s direction. The frown is still there but his eyes tell him enough. It’s a sad sort of pleading. An apology but not because Gaz has done anything wrong. Simon has seen this look before.

Pity. It’s pity that Simon sees in Kyle’s gaze.

Price clears his throat, shoots his whiskey back, and then pours himself another from the bottle Ben set down on the table. “Kyle is right. It’s not Makarov, Simon.” Price lifts his glass and stares into the amber liquid. “When I say he’s back, I mean him.”

Simon’s stomach is toxic slime. It bubbles there, brewing, waiting to eat away at flesh and bone and blood.

Him. Him.

From the nightmares. From the scars. From the wounds that never healed properly.

No. No no no. Fucking no.

“You’re lying,” growls Simon, his hands forming fists under the table.

“Simon—”

Simon slams his fist against the tabletop. Everything rattles. “He’s fucking dead, Price.” Simon points at himself. “I put a knife in his chest. Watched him fall.” He gestures to everyone at the table with a sweep of his hand. “We all saw his burnt corpse.”

Johnny is the one to speak, not Price. “A corpse so burnt it couldn’t be identified.”

There is pity in Johnny’s gaze too, and Simon fucking hates it. He hates how they’re all looking at him right now. If he’s back, that means all the therapy, retirement, and all the pain is absolutely bloody pointless.

Nothing. Just air. Dead confetti wasting away on concrete.

“I didn’t earn these injuries or have retirement shoved on me just for you to come back here and tell me he still lives.” Simon’s tone is cold. Broken.

Price sighs again, crossing his arms and resting them on the edge of the table. “You think I wanted to come and tell you this, Simon?” Simon removes his fist from the table, dropping it into his lap. “I didn’t want to say anything at all. But I’m out of options. And things are going to shit fast.”

Simon understands. He doesn’t need to ask because he knows why Price, Soap, and Gaz have all come. This man they’re hunting, the one that Simon believed he killed, the one who gave Simon the burn scars along his upper arms, back, and shoulders, is walking around somewhere, returning to what he does best.

“You were the one who got close to him. You know him better than any of us,” continues Price. “And we need your help.”

Simon does know him better than they do. He got close enough to get into his head.

Kit Walsh.

Simple, isn’t it. Unsuspecting.

Evil people aren’t born with evil names.

Kit Walsh who grew up in Manchester just like Simon. Attended school there and even lived in a nearby neighborhood from the one Simon grew up in.

Kit Walsh who radicalized himself by talking to likeminded individuals in private chatrooms on the internet.

Kit Walsh who, as he got older, decided he wanted the rest of the world to look and think just like him.

Evil people always start somewhere, and sometimes they’re not rooted out until it’s far too late for everyone else.

Simon flexes his fingers, stretching the joints before forming a fist again. “Help how?”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon.”

Slamming back his whiskey, Simon reaches across the table to snag the whiskey bottle.

The worst kind of evil is always domestic. It always starts at home.

Of course, Simon has to help. The whole reason they got as close as they did was from the work Simon put in during his time with SAS.

“Where is he, Price?”

Price sucks his teeth and then rubs his temple. “It’s complicated. Messy.”

“Then explain.”

Reaching into his coat pocket, Price removes a stack of photos. Sorting through them, Price removes two, tossing them across the table toward Simon. Picking them up, Simon examines them. Both photos are of Walsh in a mega church. He’s posing with men in nicely tailored suits, but it’s not like Simon knows who these men are. Walsh, Simon recognizes, but he’s changed his hair and put on a few pounds.

“Those were taken a week ago in Texas.”

Simon glances up from the photos. “He’s in the States?” Price opens his mouth but Simon laughs. It’s short and clipped, but high. “You’ve fucking lost him.”

Price frowns but Simon continues. “Last time he bounced between here and the Continent. If he’s gone to America, you won’t fucking find him.”

“Laswell already knows.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Kyle leans forward. “Are you hearing what they’re saying over there? The idiotic shit coming out of people’s mouths?”

“They say shit like that here, Gaz,” snaps Simon, anger lacing his tone. “They say it in Germany. In France. In Russia. Everywhere. It’s just wearing different faces for the same thing.”

Kyle’s frown deepens and his stare could slice glass. Simon immediately swallows down some of that irritation. His anger isn’t with any of them. It’s the fact that everything Simon went through meant nothing. All these scars now covered up by ink are just reminders of his failure.

“You know how he works, Simon. Everything we have on him we have because of you. I know it’ll be difficult now that he’s jumped the ocean, but I’m desperate, Simon. Give me anything.”

Simon stares down at the tabletop. The dark wood stares back. His priorities have changed during retirement. He’s no longer active military. He doesn’t have to help them at all. Simon has his shop, his new career, and Bravo.

Now, there is an addition to the mix. You. You are a priority now.

“He’s killed someone. Or had someone do it for him.”

Simon glances up from the table to stare into Price’s stern expression. “Walsh has killed a lot of people. Directly and indirectly.”

“Someone important,” interrupts Johnny, swirling his Scotch around in his glass.

“Someone important to certain people,” amends Price.

Simon adjusts in his seat, the chair suddenly becoming uncomfortable. “Who?”

Price fans out the pictures in front of him. A few seconds pass and then Price selects several, slowly pushing them across the table.

“Archibald Williams,” begins Price. “Also lovingly referred to as ‘Archie’ by friends and family.” The face staring back at him is a face he knows. He saw it just this morning in a wedding photo behind Evie’s left shoulder.

Simon’s tattooed fingers slip under the photograph, bringing it closer to him. There is zero doubt in Simon’s mind that this is the same man.

Price taps one finger against the table before selecting another photo and setting it closer to Simon. “On his great grandfather’s side, our boy here has a bit of Windsor in him.”

Simon’s head snaps up. “You’re bloody joking.”

Price shrugs. “Distant relation. At least a hundred would have to die before he’d even be considered for the throne.”

“Fucking hell,” mutters Simon, organizing the photos so he can see them all at once.

One is a photo of him with his football mates, all of them sweaty and smiling and dirty. Another is a massive family portrait. It’s the kind that the Royal Family or any aristocratic family enjoy taking with the immediate and extended family. Simon locates Archie amongst what seems like a hundred faces. Next to Archie is Adam, and Simon immediately frowns.

Moving those to the side, Simon picks up the next photograph. In this one, Archie poses next to three well-dressed young men. They’re all lined up in a row with Archie on one end and a stranger on the other. The two in the middle are no strangers. They’re much younger in this photo but the heir to the Throne and his brother are faces any Brit should know.

“You can see why it’s messy,” says Price after Simon sets the last photo down.

“Shambles,” mumbles Gaz before tossing back his tequila.

Johnny grunts but says nothing. Simon glances at him briefly but returns his attention to Price.

“Why him?”

Price leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Rumor is that Archie here planned on relinquishing his titles. Running for public office. Wanted to make a difference.”

“That’s enough to kill him?” probes Simon, knowing there has to be more.

“Having political opinions is frowned upon for people like him. He’s supposed to stay neutral. Not take sides. He was being vocal. Donated tons of his wealth to different charities. Made lots of people uncomfortable.”

“Like Walsh?” Simon shakes his head. “That’s not like him. He prefers the long game. He’s not like Makarov. Makarov will look you in the face. Walsh will hide behind a wall of politicians.”

“I know,” says Price sadly. He rubs his temple again, sighing. “Williams left a wife behind.”

I know, Price. Sat at the table with her just this afternoon.

Simon says nothing. There is no reason to involve Evie or you in this. Price is only asking for advice. He needs some input into a vastly complicated situation.

“You looking for her?”

Price shakes his head. “No. Hadn’t been married long. Sad, is all.”

“It is,” agrees Simon.

“So, you’ll help us?” asks Johnny, drawing Simon’s attention away from Price. “Take a look at the files?”

At Johnny’s question, Price presents Simon with a small stack of file folders.

They’re just asking him to look. They’re just asking him for some advice.

That’s it.

That’s all.

Price holds them out and Simon reaches forward.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @creamwhxre @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus @josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties @darling006 @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @mudisgranapat @heeheehoohoohahahihi @i-feel-violated

[marsbutterfly]

Headcanons: The Five Senses Of The Human Body After Losing Hanji Zoe

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since last year, since part 3 part 1 came out. I miss them. I miss them a lot :(

warnings: fem!reader, grief and mentions of hanji's death. NSFW once you get to touch: masturbation, dildo riding, praising, crying afterwards.

You see Hanji in the old books that collect dust in the old shelves in your room. The pages that never got the pleasure of being touched by their fingers, the words on the pages that never once got to see those whiskey brown eyes.

You see Hanji in the apron that hangs in the kitchen, still covered in flour from the cake they tried to bake not long ago. They kept saying they would wash it and get it clean before baking again but they never actually got the chance to do it.

You see Hanji in the box of extra sets of glasses that sits on top of the dresser. Actual frames and battle frames, broken glasses and brand new ones they never even got the chance to wear.

You see Hanji in the stack of paperwork they left behind. Unfinished drafts for new flying machines, titan experiments with Armin's Colossal Titan, a few half-written love letters dedicated towards you that you had never read until a few days ago.

You see Hanji in the dark corners of the bedroom, where their jacket hangs from the chair. A spot you haven't touched in weeks, if not a month. Not since before the rumbling even started because you know they were very particular about the places they kept their things.

You smell Hanji in the dirty bed sheets they left behind. The covers are still messy and thrown around, half hanging from the bed as you haven't had the courage or the strength to fix it. You can still clearly see the image of their body laying around naked, an arm over their face while their leg is on top of yours.

You smell Hanji in the half empty bottle of shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom. In the soap bar that has been broken in half because they couldn't find a replacement, so they tried their best to make it last.

You smell Hanji in the field of flowers right outside the city, a place where the two of you would go whenever they needed time away from the job as the commander. Sunflowers had always been their favorite.

You smell Hanji in the rain that pours outside your window. The memories of when they would go outside and allow themselves a few minutes of peace and quiet, just feeling the water against their clothes and their skin, moments that the two of you could share together.

You smell Hanji in the dirt, no matter where you go. Gardening had always been an activity the two of you shared, even if you were not the biggest fan of dirt and grass. But you could never deny them anything, not when it caused such a big smile to take over their face.

You taste Hanji in the leftovers you got from their favorite restaurant on the very last date the two of you went on together. A small place hidden behind all the buildings of the capital, where the waitresses knew you by heart and already knew your order.

You taste Hanji in the bottle of wine you had saved for the day the two of you got married. You never had the chance to savor it together so you take it to the area where you built a small gravestone for them and pour some on the empty ground, knowing that not even their body is down there.

You taste Hanji in the dragon fruits that Levi brought back for you. He knows those were their favorite and therefore he knows you, more than anyone, need to taste them again to feel connected to the person you had grown to love the most.

You taste Hanji in the food you accidentally made slightly too spice for you because you were so used to making it like that for them. You end up adding too much pepper and you are all too used to drinking lots of water during meals to make sure they are happy. But they aren't here anymore.

You taste Hanji in the tea bags that never got open, bags and exotic leaves that were confiscated from the military and the two of you stole from the Military Police, bag that you now have to try on your own because Levi is too busy traveling the world and rebuilding society and Hanji... Well, they aren't here anymore.

You hear Hanji in the old recordings Kiyomi Azumabito had saved from when all of you were having secret meetings away from Paradis. To be able to hear their voice again after witnessing their death, to be able to hear their laugh and the seriousness all combined into one recording. You could almost picture them next to you again.

You hear Hanji in the birds that sing outside. They would wake up as soon as the sun would rise and study the birds while sitting on the window ledge, a cup of tea in one hand while the other held a journal against their thigh, the pencil tightly gripped in between their fingers.

You hear Hanji in the way that you speak. After so many years as lovers and even more so as friends, you couldn't help but acquire some of their mannerisms. The jokingly pronounce T's at the end of your sentences, the loud burst of laugh when you first begin, the subtle roll of your tongue when you pronounce a few words.

You hear Hanji in the street music around the area that used to be surrounded by Wall Sina. Most of the performers know you by name, from times before the rumbling, when you and Hanji would walk together along these streets and slow dance to the sound of the instruments.

You hear Hanji in the moans you let out. Their name still falls from your lips and you can hear their voice, calling you a "good girl" and "what a wonderful job you are doing for me, Moonlight." Their praises still echo through the walls of your heart.

You touch Hanji every time you touch yourself. As soon as your eyes close, you lose the feeling that you are the one doing it to yourself as you begin to imagine their fingers inside of you once more, their thumb brushing against your clit.

You touch Hanji every time your fingers aren't enough and you have to resort to wrapping the strap they used to wear around a pillow. The way it slides inside of you and you cling to the pillowcase, imagining it's their shirt, you cry out their name and a few tears come out of your eyes against your will. You ride the strap until you are crying their name so loudly half the town can hear. You most likely cry afterwards.

You touch Hanji every time you run your fingers above your naked skin, trailing the hairs like a feather falling from a flying bird. You touch the areas of yourself you hate the most and you can almost listen to their words of love, about how beautiful you are and how they could never love anyone like they love you.

You touch Hanji every time the palm of your hand covers your nipples. Every time you squeeze your breasts at the exact same strength level they would and whimper at the feeling, lying to yourself that this is actually them, that they are still here and touching you in such an intimate manner.

You touch Hanji every time you close your eyes and you are finally able to dream about them. About a life in which they didn't have to sacrifice themselves, that you didn't have to see their body fall to the ground. You touch their face and see them smile once more, a sight you are so scared of forgetting, you smell their skin and you hear their voice in such a sweet tone you can almost taste it,

"I miss you."

[riniworld]

fulfil my wish

yandere!emperor oc x general!f!reader

warnings// obsession,yandere theme,mention of killing and blood,breaking bones,not proofread, let me know if i missed anything!

refrence// you,my love,flower,your majesty-honor, she/her

a/n//i don't actually know if all of this make sense-

it's been months since you've got married to taron,and you hated every second of it.

your place is in the field with a sword or in a war not in this luxurious life full of lazeness,but he prevented you from using the sword again saying it's too dangerous for an empress to go to the war.

in the start you didn't mind because you don't want to hold the sword against your home,but you can't handle it anymore when you couldn't even go out the castle.

your life start to become plain and boring,you literally had read the entire library.

whenever you open the topic with taron he close it immediately.

You've gave up on getting out from there and didn't argue about it more untill...

You have a younger sister who got married early to one of the soldiers who was under your wing, but he died in one of the battles so you took her and her children responsibilitys on you,You found a job for her to support herself and her children, and you visited them every month but after what happen you forget about her.

you were on your way to taron to give him some papers he had told you to bring because he forgot them in the room when you stumble on one of his correspondents telling him news about the empire and he mentioned something about your sister losing her job.

you had alot of questions first is that how does taron know about her? second Why does he receive her news? She doesn't even live here,but all those questions faded away when you realize you should go visit her.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when the door opened,the correspondent bow in respect and go.

taron smiled softly when he saw you "ah did you bring them already?"

you put the papers on his desk "what did the correspondent told you?" you asked like you didn't hear anything,maybe he'll told you what happen to your sister in details.

"Don't bother yourself with it, it's just normal news about the state of the empire"

you nod in acknowledge "I'll go now then,i need to do something"

"do you now? why don't we drink some tea together,We don't usually sit together" he took your hand and kissed the back of it

you pull your hand quickly "no thanks" then you left.

but then you stopped in your track,Why don't you get closer to him? Maybe he'll let you out the castle then? this idea hit you as you made your way back to him.

you opened the door aggressively "you know what let's drink tea together i don't have anything to do"

taron was confused as much as he was happy,did you finally decided to give him a chance?.

"sure,of course come sit" he said and pull the chair for you to sit on.

when you sat down he demanded the servants to bring two cups of tea in a rush

you sip from your cup in tense,since he sit down he kept just looking at you.

"your tea will get cold" you point out.

"hm?....ah yes,yeah right" he shake his head like he just come to his sense.

you roll your eyes when he wasn't looking.

he sip from his cup befor he speak "What is the reason for the sudden change in behavior,hm?....it's not like i'm complaining of course"

you pause thinking of a reason "...nothing really....I'm-just bored."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise "you're bored? Did the servants fail to bring you anything? do you need anything? should i punish someone?"

"whao there,it's nothing like that i just.....it's boring being here all the time"

he sigh "i don't like where this going to."

"why so? all i ask is a little walk in the cit-"

"no." he shuts you up immediately. "we've talked about that before,if you need anything I'll send someone to bring it to you."

"it's totally different! i need some fresh air"

"the garden is big enough"

"but it's annoying to be in the same place over and over again."

"look.." he say as he made his way to you taking your hands in his "it's all for your safety,we don't know what will happen if you set your foot outside the gates."

"i belive I'm more than capable of myself." you say in annoyance.

taron chuckle slightly "yes,i trust you can of course, let's just say i don't want anyone to see your beauty as well...If I didn't have to, I wouldn't let the servants see you at all"

"that's bullshit" you mutter under yout breath.

"i know you're not the type to stay in one place,but you'll get used to it"

you glare at him in anger and pull your hands from his.

taron sigh in frustration and ran his hand through his hair.

"is boredom the only reason that you want to go out?"

you stayed silent for a moment, "no...i want to visit my sister."

"...oh..you have a sister?"

what a liar,it taking everything in you to not punch him, "i do" you say between gritting teeth.

"don't worry about her,just tell me where is she and I'll take care of her." he smiled at you.

"no need, just let me visit her." you say in desperate.

"I'll think about it" he goes back to his side of the table "i would love to spend some more time with you but i have duties to attend" he say in an apologising tone.

you left the room without saying anything,knowing that it's just lies and he won't let you go.

you're laying down on the bed,you couldn't sleep last night thinking of ways to visit your sister.

Even if you can avoid the servants, you will not be able to avoid the guards outside.

you sigh and gets up to change,you'll think better in the fresh air.

When you open the door to leave, you're stopped by a guard standing at the door.

"please forgive me,your majesty,But it's orders you can't leave your room."

you scoff and get inside,that happened alot when taron get guests.

you sit beside the window looking out at the garden lost in thought,you heard rambling outside the door,that most be the servants busy providing hospitality,poor people.

but that when an idea crossed your mind,everyone busy with the guests,no one will notice you snaking out,And if you use a little of your power as an empress, you can leave, and no one will tell taron immediately.

you open the door again and cut the guard before he say anything "i need to use the lavatory."

the guard look between you and taron's guest room,you clear your throat to get his attention again "I'm sure taron wouldn't mind,in fact he might even get angry if he knew you didn't let me go." you feel a little guilty to use his fear against him but you know you had to,for your sister.

the guard stood in front of you in tense "as you wish,your majesty,but let me escort you."

you had no choice but to accept,now you're here in the toilet thinking about how to get rid of him.

You use one of the moves you had learned as a general,

You pull him in quickly as you apply enough pressure to the carotid arteries,while you cut off the blood flow to his brain, render him unconscious.

you mutter "sorry" and left,walking slowly to the outside gates you've bumped on one or two of the servants who questions you if you need anything or telling you that taron don't want you to go out now,but you brush it off by some excuses as he the one who told you to bring him something or you want something personal from a room.

You have successfully reached the outdoor garden, you made your way to the gates and the guards stopped you "sorry your honor but you are forbidden from leaving, it is the Emperor's orders"

you expected this to happen "I've been given permission to leave"

the guards look at each other and then one of them speak "excuse us but we have to ask his majesty about this"

"are you calling me a liar?" you say sternly.

the guard started to get tense and bow his head "i would never your honor!"

"it's-it's just for safety,your honor,so his majesty won't get upset" the other guard says shakly

"there's no need to disturb him right now,i belive my word is enough to go by,isn't it?"

the guards opened the way to you and shouted "yes of course your honor!"

it would be strange for you to go walking in this clothes in public so you take a trolley to escort you.

your eyes land on a clothes shop,it sells ordinary clothes just the thing you need so you told the trolley driver to stop by it, when you enter everyone star at you,not that they recognize you thank to taron's possessiveness, but because you look more like a royalty to buy something from a store like that.

you ignore the stars and whispers in your way looking for something more comfortable you can run in it if needed...or fight.

when you find what you want and wear it you head to pay but then realize that you didn't bring with you any money,cursing under your breath as you think of something you can pay by, your eyes landed on your ring,your wedding ring,it's not like you loved it anyway so you give it to the seller who look at you with shock but eventually take it of course even if it was too much for the price.

as you walk out the store,you tries to hide your face as much as you can so the trolley driver won't recognize you,when you get far enough you start to walk casually but fast trying to reach your sister as fast as you can before taron knows about your disappear and make a huge deal of it.

8:00p.m

it's been two hour when those shame of royalties has been here,taron grew annoyed,What they say is all bullshit to him,he could kick them out easily and for no reason but he doesn't want to deal with the drama that will happen... not now at least not when you finally softened up to him a little bit,his mood ease a little when he thought of you.

he wonder if you're asleep right now,and hope you're not, he want to spend some time with you again.

8:30p.m

oh finally they're gone!,taron bid them farewell coldly and fast he didn't even escort them to the gates but can they complain? they're lucky enough he even accepted to meet them and didn't kick them out by 5 min.

taron head to your room and got angry when no one stand at the door,didn't he set a guard here?.

he opens the door to your room slowly so he won't wake you up if you were sleeping,But all his annoyance changed to shock when he did not see anyone in the room he made sure to not let you out didn't he?!

taron shouted for the servants to come and by seconds three servants bowing on their hands before him,no one dared to left their head up not when their emperor is angry.

"i belive I've made myself clear to not let y/n left the room,haven't i?,so where is she now?" his tone is terrifyingly filled with coldness.

"We-we were s-s-so busy hosting that we didn't notice anyone leaving,your-your Majesty" one of them say shakly with terror.

"you useless insects!" he shouted "I'll deal with you later,go and prepare my horse and let some of those guards prepare themselves too...quickly!" he demanded.

the servants hurried to do what they had been told.

taron knew exactly where are you going to,if you only waited for some days, he was going to take you there of course he was, why would he prevents you from visiting your sister?? he was just going to make it a surprise but you had to break his words and now you ruined everything, he has to make you learn how to obey him even if he have to use power.

day later

it wasn't easy to left the empire the guards was everywhere, you even had to hide somewhere for like three hours.

but eventually you're out know and close to your sister's house it only take an hour walking.

.

.

.

you finally here after alot of trouble,you knock on the door and your sister opened the door real quick.

"ah-y/n! what-what got you here?"

you didn't answer instead you throw yourself at her and hug here tight,she return the hug but there was something strange about her, she sutter and seems like really anxious,you shrug this feeling off maybe she's still brokendown.

she guster you inside "I've heard about what happened" you say while sitting down.

"o-oh really? it's not a big deal...and i-i heard about your marriage" she brings some tea and biscuit to a table in front of you.

"ugh don't talk about that now,it's miserable..that sham of a man thinks he have the right to control my life or something"

"y-y/n ac-actually he's-"

"but it's true my love, i do have the right to control your life" someone cut your sister off, you recognize that voice, taron

you stand up in a defensive pose quickly wich lead to knock the tray off "what are you doing here?!"

"what? am i not allowed to visit my beloved wife sister?" he said with innocent tone.

you look at your sister with a questioning look,but what got you angry more is how your sister shiver in fear, what did he do to her?!.

"i swear to god taron if you've hurt her!" you warning.

taron only chuckle slightly "I've never heard you say my name,it's like honey when you say it"

you didn't replay don't want to go further with his playing.

taron's expression suddenly turned serious "now let's go back to the castle,and you're going to come with me obediently" he say coldly

you wanted to argue but your sister life is on the line,before you even replay he grabbed your arm and dragged you to his horse behind the house, he ride the horse at first and demand "ride" as you ride hesitantly.

The road to the castle was quiet and full of tension, you knew full well that there would be consequences when you return, but at least your sister was safe.

as soon as you reached your destination, taron took you by your arm forcefully and then threw you on the floor of the room.

you fall on your back hard but you swallow your groan,Before you lift yourself off the ground taron place his foot on your neck It chokes you a little.

"you broke my words,flower. i have to make sure you won't do it again." he say strangely calm as he tuck down and take one of your arms

the next thing you hear is a cracking noise,fuck he broke your arm.

you bite your lips to not scream and sound weak,All thanks to your training as a general,but you eventually let a little groan escape as he force more wight on it.

"you broke my heart,flower. The least i can do is break your arm,and this still not as much pain as I felt" with every word come out his mouth he twists your arm more "be thankful i didn't kill your sister."

with that he left you alone,you lift yourself up and embrace your arm letting out a few tears,it of course doesn't hurt like the battles injuries But this is the first time someone has broken your pride, and who did it? The person you hate most!.

you swear you'll get your revenge someday.

someone knock on the door,you gave permission to enter, the castle's doctor entered,she respectfully told you to sit on the bed so she cast your broken arm. (i guess it's like that?)

When she finished, she wished you a speedy recovery and left.

taron entered as soon as the doctor left,he looked at your arm for some minute before he exhale and sit down beside you.

"you lost that" He takes your good hand and place your wedding ring in your finger,a blood-stained ring,did he kill the clothes seller?!.

"you of course hadn't gave it willingly,so i brought it back to you, don't mind the blood it'll go easly with some soap" he was smiling, how can he smile when he just killed an innocent person!.

maybe the blood on the ring will remind you what taron can do without guilt, if you hadn't listen to him this would've been you sister blood.

he's terrifying.

finallyyyyyy

hope you like it :)!

have a nice day/night♡

[plumbaleena]

Spice Up Your Sim's Calendar with Custom Seasonal Activities!

The Sims is boring AF right? Well, we have to always come up with creative ideas to make this game more interesting and THANKFULLY there are many mods to help us with that! However, you don't always have to have mods to make the game a little more fun, and here's one example of that! Calendar ideas!

🌼 S P R I N G

Calendar day ideas /

🌼 Egg hunt day / set up your calendar to have the cute little bouncy flower bunny come and celebrate while colorful eggs pop up around your home! Take spring pictures, dress in matching outfits and have a picnic outside!

T r a d i t i o n s / Egg hunt, flower bunny

🌼 Spring break / Take a week off with your family to go on a vacation, maybe to the beach, or even the woods for memories to last a lifetime.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌼 Spring cleaning / Take time to clean your house, move some things around, get rid of things. Start fresh!

T r a d i t i o n s / Cleaning

🌼 Earth day / Plant some flowers, herbs or vegetables, tend to your garden, pick up trash and maybe go help someone else with their garden too.

T r a d i t i o n s / Gardening, cleaning

🌼 April fool's / Do mischief and silly things to other sims, maybe prank some toilets or buzz some hands, who knows maybe you'll find something about mischief that tickles your fancy.

T r a d i t i o n s / Mischief spirit

🌼 Mother's day / Have your littles make spring crafts for mom, help to make her breakfast, or serve up some tea or lemonade. Head over to her house for a visit if you're on your own and spend the day together maybe even go to the spa!

T r a d i t i o n s / Give flowers, give gifts, tell stories, thankful spirit

🌼 Spring fling/dance / Take your sims to a spring formal where you can dance the night away (preferably not the cowpoke) and dress in light pastels for sweet matching photos.

T r a d i t i o n s / Party spirit, art & music spirit

🌼 Flower festival / Head on over to a flower field, and give flowers to those you hold dear. Spend the day outside enjoying nature or putting a flower crown in your hair and soak in the sun while you take a stroll.

T r a d i t i o n s / Give flowers

🌼 Love/Valentine's day / Take your loved one on a date to a romantic spot you wouldn't normally go. Make sure to enjoy each other's company and no phones allowed! Slow dance under the moonlight, or steal a kiss under the stars. Don't have someone? Make it a gal/palentines day instead! Enjoy spending time with your favorite friends watching movies, having popcorn or even indulging in a pillow fight.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a date, [or if single, invite guests], romantic spirit, watch romantic tv

🌼 Daddy/Daughter dance / Take your little princess to a dance she'll never forget. Dress up in matching colors and treat her like she's the queen for the day! Take lots of pictures to forever remember that special day.

T r a d i t i o n s / Art & music spirit

🌴 S U M M E R

Calendar day ideas /

🌴 Father's day / Celebrate good old dad with some summer crafts, a bbq, and a hang out by the pool. Toss a football around, maybe kick back a few EAPA's and have a day to remember with your pops.

T r a d i t i o n s / Bar-B-Que, drinking, give gifts, tell stories, thankful spirit

🌴 Summer vacation / Take a week off with the family to the beach and celebrate the summer while the kids are out of school and enjoy times in the sand, swimming in the ocean, and even catching some fish!

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌴 Slip 'n Slide day / Take the fun of the sun outside and enjoy a day full of water! Head over to the water park in San Sequoia, or bring it home with a splash pad and water balloons. Spend all day in your bathing suit and maybe even...streak?

T r a d i t i o n s / Water fun, streak? ;)

🌴 Sulani/festival day / Find out when your local festivals are happening for Sulani and/or Mt. Komorebi and visit them on these days to celebrate the culture of the world. You won't want to miss the turtle hatching or festival of lights!

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel, fireworks

🌴 Summer camp / Have your kids head off to "summer camp" where they can go somewhere off the lot for a week or two and enjoy what it feels like when they're in school! Create a camp for them to attend and bring them back into the house after a week or two, unless they're homesick. Then bring them back sooner.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌴 Family camping trip / Head off to Granite Falls and enjoy camping with the family. Really rough it together and only bring tents, bug spray, and some food and water. See who lasts the longest without a comfy bed.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌴 Simchella/Music fest / Enjoy Simchella for your sims to head to a music festival in Oasis Springs and have the time of their lives!

T r a d i t i o n s / Art & music spirit, drinking

🎃 F A L L

Calendar day ideas /

🎃 Neighborhood potluck / Throw a party and have your neighbors bring food to share for a neighborhood potluck. Share stories, drinks, and company as the leaves start to change for the season.

T r a d i t i o n s / Invite guests, tell stories, party spirit

🎃 Trick or treating / Bring your littles to a special trick or treat neighborhood where you can enjoy candy and perfect spots for pictures!

T r a d i t i o n s / Spooky spirit, trick or treat, wear costumes

🎃 Day of the dead / Make your departed loved one's favorite foods, dance to their favorite music, talk about them with family members and enjoy the memories you had with them. If you can go visit them, bring a candle or a small token to put at their resting place in remembrance.

T r a d i t i o n s / Remembrance

🎃 Family pumpkin carving / Invite family and friends over to sip cider and carve pumpkins! Set up stations and have a contest, and when they're all done display them at the front door for all of the welcome wagon to see.

T r a d i t i o n s / Invite guests, spooky spirit, sports tv

🎃 Visiting the pumpkin patch / A perfect place to go and take pictures, pick the perfect pumpkin, and enjoy the crisp weather is at a pumpkin patch! Visit the local pumpkin patch for all of this, and more.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel, thankful spirit

🎃 Bonfire night / Have a giant bonfire for all of your friends to celebrate the last of warm and longer nights. Enjoy drinks, roasting marshmallows and singing songs while reminiscing about how fast time goes by.

T r a d i t i o n s / Fire, tell stories, thankful spirit

❄️ W I N T E R

Calendar day ideas /

❄️ Welcoming Winter / This day is when there's the first snow! Head outside, build a snowman, make a snow angel, bake a warm pie, or stay inside and cozy up by the fire and read a book. Nothing is more special than welcoming winter.

T r a d i t i o n s / Baking, fire, festive spirit

❄️ Winter holiday / Take a vacation to Mt. Komorebi and enjoy the slopes where you can try skiing or snowboarding for the first time! If you're not feeling adventurous head over to the bathhouse and steam up in the sauna.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel, festive spirit

❄️ Winterfest Eve / Celebrate with the family the day before Winterfest. Have a special dinner, sing songs, maybe open a present or two, and have a great evening. Dress in red and green for beautiful pictures!

T r a d i t i o n s / Attend a holiday ceremony, festive lighting, festive spirit, give gifts, grand meal, invite guests, open presents

❄️ Present wrapping/buying / Take a day to go and buy gifts for your loved ones, and make sure you take the time to get something for each person as everyone is unique! Think about checking plopsy, or maybe your little one wants the latest gaming console!

T r a d i t i o n s / Festive spirit

❄️ Go see the giant tree and ice skate / Winterfest is never complete without visiting an ice skating rink or sipping on some hot cocoa while it snows. Take a day to go and see the beautiful Winterfest trees and ice skate to capture the true magic of the season.

T r a d i t i o n s / Festive spirit

❤️ Mods to enhance your calendar /

more holiday icons by littlemssam

random holiday traditions by littlemssam

custom holiday traditions by kiarasims

summer camp by adeepindigo

[ashbeneviento]

I dreamed of you amid the flowers

A short story. Fem reader x Donna Beneviento, warnings: none. Fluff.

You(reader) have been having a reoccurring dream of the mysterious Lady Beneviento. You decide to clear your head in search for answers. Was she all just a dream?

(No beta reader/sorry for any grammatical mistakes. First fic post, thanks for reading!)

Based on the song “Daydream” by: The Wallace Collection. It’s a beautiful song and reminds me of Donna 🖤

Sunlight cascaded over the field in the early hours of the morning as you walked.

You had to clear your head, but last nights dream was still fresh behind your eyes and clouded your vision with each step into damp dirt.

It was the same dream you had for a couple of years now, with each one giving you more bits and pieces to the story it told.

A meadow of bright yellow flowers circled around you smelling so sweet and inviting. Irresistible to stray from. Not like you wanted to, however, because you knew you were waiting on her.

A mysterious woman in all black, her face hidden behind a veil emerges from the shadows of the trees like a ghost. And maybe she was.

She never spoke to you in these dreams. It didn’t matter, you understood her just fine as you sat together in that circle of flowers.

Sometimes she would bring tea and you would drink it, and some mornings you’d wake to still taste it on your lips.

But the dream always ended the same way.

The phantom like woman would trace her slender fingers across her veil and gently pull it to the side revealing a manniquins head.

And then you’d wake.

Last night was different however. You could see her single eye, full dark eyelashes with an iris as black as the clothes she wore.

And she smiled at you.

Your heart beats faster at the image, legs still carrying you away from your field and into the tree line.

You had no idea where you were going, all you knew was that you needed answers.

Why were you having these dreams?

Why was it always the same woman?

Who was this woman?

Was she even real, could you have passed her by one day in the village and just forgot?

You huff and rub your palms into your temples in frustration.

“Maybe I’m just crazy…” you mumble under your breath.

The sun was shining in full now through the tops of the trees above you. You were admiring the simple beauty of nature when your foot hooks under a large vine and causes you to land flat into the dirt with a thud.

Groaning at the pain you inspect yourself and find nothing broken, save for the mud caked into your clothes.

And that’s when you find yourself in a circle of bright yellow flowers.

“No way…” you whisper in awe, standing up to walk around them and smell their sweet scent.

“You’re here” a raspy feminine voice emerges from the trees, startling you as you whip your head around for its person.

It’s her. The phantom from your dreams.

Still as stone you nod, hands trembling at your sides as she walked closer.

“D-do we know each other?” You stutter and she stops walking.

It’s silent for a few moments before she nods.

“Somewhat” a short reply from behind the veil.

You take a deep breath and sit back down in the flowers, unsure of what to make of her answer.

“I’ve been dreaming of you. But I’m sure you are aware of that seeing that you came. I don’t.. I don’t understand” you say nervously, hands wringing together in your lap as she takes a seat on the ground across from you.

Pale slender fingers brush against the flowers with a content hum, plucking one to play with it.

“I’ve been dreaming of you, too”

She says in a whisper, looking down at you. You couldn’t see her face but you could feel her eyes through the dark fabric.

“I’ve been waiting on you to come.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and decide this probably wasn’t the best idea. The village ran rampant with all types of creatures, some of which most would only assume as fairy tales. Who’s to say she wasn’t one of them?

As if she read your mind, a gentle hand lays on top of yours with a sigh.

“I won’t hurt you. I am.. not like my siblings”

Her voice sounds like it hasn’t been used in ages as she speaks, but it comforted you just as much as it scared you. What did she mean by her siblings?

“You’re from the village. I assume you are aware of the Four Lords..” she whispers, cocking her head to the side in question.

You nod as the realization hits you, a short gasp coming from your mouth.

Most were aware of Lady Dimitrescu and Lord Heisenberg. You even knew of Lord Moarou as your uncle went to work for him once.

Once.

And that only left one other Lord.

“Lady Beneviento..” You whisper, hands shaking underneath hers.

She nods slowly and pats your hand, leaning back as she continued to play with the flower.

You contemplate the seriousness of your situation with the mysterious Lady as she sits in silence. Was she lying? If she possessed Mother Miranda’s dark gifts then she couldn’t be trusted.

“You think too loud, Tesoro.” She hums, placing the plucked flower back on the ground.

“Prehaps you should stay in your own head, then”

You snap back, irritated by the fact that she could indeed read your mind.

A small laugh escapes her lips, placing her cold hand on your cheek.

You stare deeply into her veil, hoping for a glimpse of what she might look like. Wondering if her smile was as beautiful as it was in your dreams.

“I’m not dreaming.. am I?” You whisper. She shakes her head no.

“Not anymore, ragazza dolce. You’re wide awake..and you’re finally mine” she says softly, pulling her veil to the side. That pool of black stares deeply into your eyes as she leans to kiss you.

With both of your hearts beating fast, you sit in that field of flowers for hours and think to yourself;

How could this ever feel anything less than a dream come true?

And yes…

Her smile was more beautiful than you imagined.

[cocoa-rococo]

Koopaling Headcanons: Ludwig

Larry | Morton | Wendy | Iggy | Roy | Lemmy | Ludwig

The composer of chaos and everyone's favorite general, Ludwig! What a guy.

Naturally left-handed, but trained himself to be ambidextrous

He's disturbingly good at discerning people's motives, personalities, and past. He claims it's simple logic, but no one really knows how he does it.

Whenever Bowser’s in a pissy mood or feels agitated, Ludwig sometimes gets called in to play something soft and relaxing to calm him down.

There's rumors floating around the army that he was originally a Paratroop General who sold his wings in exchange for arcane powers in a magical bargain with Kamek. He's yet to confirm or deny this. (It’s not true, but he likes to keep his recruits on their toes).

Partially deaf in his left ear, and uses a hearing aid to assist him. Fluent in sign language, as well.

Has a baritone voice, very rich and darkly colored. He can hit high notes with relative ease, but can't hold them as long as he can with his lower notes.

His singing is enchanted. It's something he was born with, and he's gotten very good at controlling it. He does forget sometimes, and before he knows it, his humming down the street has attracted a plethora of birds.

Also fairly decent at mimicking bird calls. Iggy is dying to learn his secret.

Likes reading mystery novels and detective stories, but spaces them out so he doesn’t read the chapters all at once. He also uses Morton as a soundboard for theories in each chapter, and relishes the feeling of being smart if he solves it before the end.

One of the most magically powerful out of his siblings. He’s fairly decent at a little bit of everything, but his siblings are stronger with their specialization. His best field is in Evocation.

While piano is his preferred instrument, he plays several: violin, cello, pump organ, pipe organ, guitar, flute, clarinet, harp, harpsichord, and ocarina.

He’s an ugly crier and hates it, which is why he tries not to do it often.

Fond of gardenias and wisteria flowers.

One of his favorite down-time, out-and-about activities is going antiquing. He’s found a nice gramophone, a few records, and some furniture pieces for his room by doing so.

Likes having a physical, paper to-do list. It makes him feel productive and organized as he checks things off.

He and Wendy have ‘Bitch Lunch' together, where they basically talk shit about their coworkers, spill tea about their friends, and gossip the whole time.

You can actually tell how long he's been composing by how dark his hands are with ink smudges. You can also tell how bad of a mood he’s in.

Loves the smell of coffee and vanilla, but leans more towards being a tea person. He's got an excellent palate for both, however.

Larry is persistently trying to introduce him to the keytar. Ludwig is persistently refusing to go near it.

Very much a morning person. He wakes up earlier than most of his siblings and likes having his hot drink and reading alone to enjoy the quiet hours before the rest of his family wakes up.

The ultimate master of time management. He gets kinda tetchy when others don’t respect deadlines or appointments dates, and heaven help you if you intrude on his scheduled self-care hours.

He snorts when he laughs really hard, and is terribly embarrassed by it, so he tries to reign it in when he can. Anyone who can do it who isn't a sibling is a special person, indeed.

He likes tall places, especially the views. Great for a bit of peace from his siblings and inspiration for his music.

When his siblings are annoying him, he likes bombarding them with music puns. He is well aware he's being an ass and does not care.

Leaned more towards science as a kid, but discovered the piano when he was twelve, and creating music felt right in a way that making little inventions never did. He never looked back, and he’s a lot happier for it, too.

Keeps a little pocket notebook on him for writing things down, and he's pretty dutiful about marking things in. It's a common gift his sibling get him on the holidays.

He doesn't have as much of a sweet tooth, but toffee — especially with almonds or coffee in it — is his weakness. His siblings have learned he can be bribed to look the other way if they have enough.

Also a fan of very dark chocolate, and his favorite pastry is a freshly-warm coffee cake.

He's pretty alright at art, especially with acrylic paint and sketchier mediums like charcoal and conté, he just doesn't like how dirty his hands get afterwards. He's got a side business doing murals.

Favorite fruits are cherries and plums, but he also won’t turn down anything this blackberry in it.

Likes watching regency romance dramas in his alone time, but loves dragging the shit out of reality TV shows with Wendy.

He also loves watching those foreign films with subtitles, very artful with a lot of emotion in them, especially if he's feeling spiteful and his little siblings are annoying, because "No, Luds, I don't want to read a film after two hours of paperwork!"

Has a small collection of model ships in bottles. He keeps them on a high, high shelf in his room, given his work environment. Ship kits are another common gift to him.

Looks at memes like an old man; both hands, squinting eyes, mouth slightly open. The others think this is hilarious.

[sugarygetoo]

flower fields where love is grown

-> pairing: diluc x fem! reader.

-> cw/ tw: none

-> wc: 1.2k

-> an. hi y’all! i’m so excited to be able to share this fluffy story to help y’all heal from the angstyness that yena has been posting. i did my best with going through and editing this to make sure it’s the best for you all! i hope everyone enjoys <3

main masterlist. | genshin impact masterlist.

✎ xoxo, viz

The field of asters and cecilias were not a common sight together but they fit perfectly, complimenting each other in a uniquely simple way. Accompanied by the gentle blowing wind and the sweet, sweet smell of flowers paired with delicious desserts. A small but elegant stone cottage sat in the middle of said flower field, giving the most beautiful sights that someone could enjoy. 

In the antique window of the cottage, sat the master of Mondstadt’s wine industry himself, reading a newspaper and drinking some homemade dandelion tea. Not far from the redhead sat his wife, sewing up one of his damaged coats that had torn from one of his battles as the Dark Knight Hero.

Nevertheless, the couple quietly enjoyed each other’s company as they had their respective cups of tea beside them. A vase of cecilias and windwheel asters were placed on the table between which Diluc and lover sat. 

Now you may be wondering, ‘how did someone as serious and grumpy as Diluc manage to get married? Especially to someone as sweet and gorgeous as his wife?’ Well, it’s a simple question really. They met in this very field. Where their love grew like the flowers  they planted together.

6 years before: the sun gently shined down on Diluc’s fair skin, the sky sparsely filled with fluffy white clouds and the sound of a gentle breeze blowing through the man’s red hair. Diluc had decided to take the day to go on a walk around Mondstadt, specifically in nearby open fields that sat close to Dorman Port. Diluc had been in the area to attend some previous business from the day before. His work at the winery and as the Dark Knight Hero was causing him a lot of stress and he really needed a break.

When Diluc arrived, he was astonished by how pristine and verdant the land was. Cecilia flowers scattered around the vibrant forest green fields while a feminine figure sat in the middle, drawing away in a sketchbook as she sat on a white and red polka dot blanket.

The closer he got, the more details he could see of her. Her skin glowed under the sun's gaze. Her simple white dress was sewn with patterns of beautiful cecilia flowers, her hair styled to compliment her dress perfectly while a simple flower crown made of cecilia's had laid on her head. The temperature was perfectly warm, the cool breeze keeping the temperature comfortable to work and travel in.

Soon he stood behind her, not daring to touch the blanket where she sat or utter a single word to her, feeling increasingly more nervous the longer he was near her. He could hear an amused giggle escaping her soft lips as she continued to sketch what seemed to be a traditional Mondstadt dress concept design, notes beside her sketch book detailing the important information that needed to be included.

“I know you're there, you don’t have to stay so silent. It’s just the two of us here, ya know.”

She teased with an amused tone. Diluc did not speak, how could he when in the presence of someone with such beauty and kindness radiating from their soul. She couldn’t help but to continue to giggle at his current silence and shy reaction.

“Why don’t you come and sit down with me, sir. I’ve got plenty of room for another person to sit. Besides, I could use the extra company.”

He remained silent, but regardless, he sat down beside the lady. Keeping his distance and holding his tongue to avoid any conflict or troublesome interactions. The two introverts did not speak much to each other while they sat together. Diluc could only watch how the blowing wind affected the nature around them or glancing over occasionally at the woman’s work silently. 

The quiet atmosphere around them was peaceful and comfortable. This one time unique chance meet ended up turning into a once a month meet up where they would quietly sit together in the same field. Either working on their respective tasks  or cloud gazing with each other quietly under the gentle shining sun. The two were only 19 at the time this first started, but soon their love for each other would grow.

After a few meetups, Diluc would come more frequently as they’re friendship progressed. The month apart would turn into every two weeks then that would turn into a once week meetup. Everytime, Diluc would be greeted with a gentle smile and excited expression from the woman he had learned to grow to love. He learned that her name was (name) and that she was a seamstress from Dorman Port. She inherited this field from her grandparents, so she would come here every day to enjoy the verdant surroundings while also taking care of the land in return.

The more they saw each other, the closer they felt on both a physical and emotional level. She understood him in ways that he didn’t know was possible. More than his father or his brother or even himself. The two of them could feel the attraction between them blossoming into something deeper. 

Eventually, Diluc asked (name) on a date which was excitedly accepted by her. They ended up having a picnic in the field, chatting and getting to know the other person better. They laughed, they smiled and ended the date with cloud gazing, holding each other’s hand and giggling like young children again, despite being 20 years old now. 

The couple had gone on many more dates over a stretch of a year. Whether it was being on walks around the forest near the cecilia field, planting some windwheel aster seeds and helping them grow nice and strong, or heading into the main city or the Port to do a bit of shopping together. 

Anyone that had a functioning brain could tell how strong the love they had for each other was. They were each other’s soulmates and the other half of themselves. They loved each other so much that Diluc made sure to propose to his lover with the prettiest ring he could find. As soon as she saw the ring, she immediately started to bawl her eyes out and cried out her joyful acceptance.

They ended up married the next year and started working on their small but cozy stone cottage in their flower field. The couple’s hope was to use the area as a venue for their small wedding  and later use it as a family cottage home.

4 years after getting married, they were now expecting their first child in about seven months time. Diluc chuckled at the memories of their younger days together. Soon getting up to give his wife and mother of his children, a gentle kiss on the lips and on her growing belly too before leaving the house to grab more wood for their fireplace. 

This field of cecilia and asters is where their love grew and continues to grow; where they first met, where they shared their first kiss, where they got engaged, where they got married and now where they will be starting their family together.

@ sugarygetoo, all rights reserved.

[nightchai05]

Genshin men x reader

hidden relationship x flirting

mostly gn pronounces, except female once. slight mention of +18

Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Kaeya, Thoma, Baizhu, Tartaglia, Itto

Neuvillette

Doesn't understand the human desire/thrill to hide a relationship, but will participate, playing his role very well. So well that you wonder if you really are going out together.

Somehow manages to graze your palm when he passes out signed documents to the Melusines, or slip you a hastily written note inviting you to dinner at a restaurant "as colleagues". You nearly burst out laughing during an important meeting with the marechaussée

Sometimes, his hairpiece falls out, and instead of putting it back on himself, he asks if you would be so kind as to help him. The Melusines are kind, but alas, too short for such a feat, there are no mirrors in sight, and you are the nearest person in the room...

When you are present during trials, he will notice you immediately. And even if he cannot always stare at the same place during the judgment, his eyes will always return to you. You have to wink or smile once, and the man must clear his throat to continue talking normally. A bad, bad person you are, playing with your man's hectic heart like that.

Wears your favourite flower as an ornament on his robes.

Permits you to make funny statements during breaks, like pointing out the uncanny resemblance between him and the otters, or that he must trip over his long robes often. Both are truthful, but not everyone is allowed to voice them. You, however, have a badge of honour slapped on your forehead: whatever Y/N says regarding Monsieur Neuvillette is fine

Wriothesley

Shows up unnanounced to "bring documents" to the Opera, knowing very well where and when you work to catch a glimpse of you.

Whenever he gives out orders to the gardes in the fortress, he will keep prolonged eye contact with you - some believe it is to establish dominance, and there's some truth to that.

You love his canines, so whenever someone makes an unfunny, nerve induced joke, he will smile widely, showing off his teeth, which is often interpreted as woflish scowling. It does not help his reputation.

If you ever spar in the Pankration Ring, he will always be nearby, personally making sure you're alright.

Talking of sparring, he takes great pleasure in fighting with you - it gives you both a chance to be up close and personal, without revealing the true nature of your relationship. Like pushing you to the ground, him on top, breathing hard into your neck. He shows off both his strength and candor, as he helps you get up, his hand lingering in yours.

Certainly has fantasies of bringing you to his office and taking you on the desk or on the couch during work hours. However, he settles on inviting you over for tea, making sure you smell like the finest tea after you get back to the surface.

Licks his lips and loosens his tie when you're around, completely nonchalant. When his eyes meet yours, you know your cheeks are warm. He sees, he senses it all, so he takes off his jacket too, playing around with the sleeves of his blouse. That's it, tonight you make him beg for it.

Kaeya

When your group is sharing a drink at Angel's Share, he leans closer put his hand on top of yours, asking to show what's in your glass. As you describe the exquisite barman's work, he glances at you, his fingers gently pinching yours.

Whenever you have a bad morning, he will take some duties off your shoulders, and shield you in front of the other knights, stating that you are a lady first and need to be treated as such, no matter if you are a knight of Favonius too.

Plans it so the bar has music playing at some point - so he can make a joke or two, and amidst the laughter and shyness of others, take you to dance.

Shows off his swordsmanship dramatically whenever you're in his field of vision.

He is known to be quite a flirt, or if you will, a charismatic extrovert, so he often puts his arm around your shoulders as a jest - but you both know it's not. Tonight, you might as well get more than a few heated kisses behind the cathedral.

Itto

Let's be honest, he wouldn't be able to hide. But he tries very hard for you.

He makes more jokes about you constantly winning the onikabuto fights. He acts hurt in public, but the grin that comes after always proves it false.

Is always jolly whenever you're around. Kuki obviously realizes something is going on. Maybe she thinks it's not mutual and that Itto is simply a lovesick guy.

You can't hide your giggling either, when the Arataki Gang's leader brings you a bouquet made of onikabuto and naku weeds. It's a friendly gesture, for sure.

He tells his gang that a certain district in Inazuma City must be protected from thieves and scoundrels at night. Why, you ask? Because he believes hat justice must reign, and you gotta start somewhere. SO why not start in the district where the beloved Y/N lives?

Shares his favourite food with you (he plays the hidden relationship so BAD you are embarassed). With chopsticks he takes a piece of fried chicken and puts it in your mouth, making fun of your expression at the same time.

You believe he misunderstood the concept of secret flirting. Apparently, for him, hiding means doing couple things but also making fun of your partner?.. In a good way, of course. Whatever. Kuki knows, and the gang are... dense. So you can continue having fun as long as you aren't woken up by the authorities knocking on your door in the middle of the night due to off-key singing at your residence's window. You KNOW that if you look outside you will see Itto playing a taiko.

Thoma

As the housekeeper and fix-it-all of the Kamisato clan, he is always running around. Sometimes it's a blessing in disguise.

No one asks where Thoma is because the answer is usually: "he's fixing the roof after last night's storm" or "he is making milk tea for his lordship because he was thirsty". Ever since he started going out with you, he disappears for only five minutes, to give you a bouquet of flowers he picked on the way and to kiss you passionately (so you can have something to look forward to later that evening).

When you are invited to the hotpot game, he usually keeps his distance, but is always very mild with ingredients he adds. He doesn’t care if the commissioner or his little sister are suffering, but your palate… yes, he’s very scared you won’t be able to taste his cooking after eating fifteen chili peppers in a row.

You both like petting animals, and this time, a group of homeless cats were lying under a small Sakura tree. Thoma will caress the same one as you – and both your fingers will touch, lightly and nearly invisibly to the naked eye. His cheeks will grow scarlet right then. You have effect on him, but he is not the main force of the housekeeping for nothing. He can withstand your charms during the day, 100%.

Baizhu

Is quite amused by the idea, so he plays the game.

Suddenly, you have more appointments at the pharmacy than before. He lets Qiqi bring your herbs, teas and ointments for whatever you have today. When you sneer and cross your arms, making it quite evident that it’s the perfect moment for him to flirt with you, he will keep a neutral face, ignoring you completely.

However, the next day, he will go to your workplace, breathless and sweaty, passing you a bag of dried herbs. “You forgot these at the pharmacy, lady” and your fingers brush and just before he turns around, he gives you the sexiest smirk.

Whenever your roads cross in public, he will invite you to hold Changsheng (to which she consented, of course). You will be pulled together by the doctor’s companion, strapping you in place. How are you going you act now that half of Liyue at the docks are seeing whatever that’s going on?

Whenever you have a real issue with your health, he will even more meticulous than with others, putting you into the backroom and offering you his services for free. He can’t have his significant other sick, not when he has so much planned for the weekend.

Tartaglia

He has to work on his flirting techniques, because the “you’re pretty, girlie” doesn’t cut it.

You go to furniture stores and cosmetics shops for fun in your free time. Of course, he will offer to pay, as everyone is aware he has the means to. But in the darkest corners, he will press his body to yours, kissing your exposed neck once and disappearing behind a shelf right after.

When your business takes you to the Northland bank, and he’s there, he will bite his lip (not at all obvious) and forget what he was talking about.

Offers to play with kids at the harbour, invites you as well. When the kids run off and hide, or chase after one another, he will steal glances and then glide his hand to your lower back – as a silent invitation to follow the children. Amidst the glee of youth, he will hug you tight, only to let you go swiftly and proudly say “whoever wins the next round gets to hug Y/N. I already did once. Now who is next?”

When he’s in Fatui mode, he doesn’t play around. If you are ever in unsafe business, he will stay close, tapping his vision, as a warning for the shady people to forget about scamming you, or touching you.

[findelyfantasy]

What Being Best Friends with the Hobbits Would Be Like:

Requests are Open!

I've been super busy with work and life in general, but I've really been wanting to post something and had this in my drafts. It's not proofread or anything, and I wrote these a super long time ago, but I hope you like these headcanons all the same. I for one think that being friends with Hobbits would be very nice. Enjoy!

Frodo:

Besides Sam, you are one of the main people that Frodo trusts. He feels comfortable talking to you about anything, and you feel just as safe telling him what is on your mind. You both like either sitting in open fields in the grass or taking long walks until late in the evening.

Sam:

Over all else, Sam wants to make sure all of his friends are as comfortable as possible, and that includes you. He’s always checking in to make sure that you have everything you need, and if you don’t have what you need, he makes sure to obtain it for you. A favorite pastime between the two of you is gardening, where both of you rant and rave about different flowers, plants, or vegetables.

Pippin:

When you and Pippin are around each other, it’s usually in a carefree manner. Both of you love to get together for tea or an outdoor picnic. When you two are not sharing a meal, you two like to run around in the afternoons. Sometimes you stay around the Shire and other times you two go to a nearby brook or forest to swim or climb trees.

Merry:

You two spend a lot of time together after the day’s work is done. Usually, you either go to the bar for a drink or sit in the front yard of one of your houses to smoke your pipes and talk. You two can always make each other laugh, and no matter what the circumstance, the both of you always find a silver lining.

Bilbo:

Being Bilbo’s friend means that you hear a lot of stories, usually about Bilbo’s adventure. You also tell stories, which are usually about what happened in the Shire while Bilbo was gone or about an adventure of your own. The two of you also pour over or draw maps together as well. You find them fascinating, and Bilbo loves the reminiscence of the whole process.

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower For Every Secret Ch 5. Carnation -

No proofreading, this was a monster chapter to write, and a lot of filler for the next. Busy with a lot of stuff this week. OC is sort of a self insert here?

WARNINGS : MINORS DNI. mentions of intimate partner violence, brief joke about pew pews, alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 5652

“Who was that guy you brought to Colleen’s wedding? Word around the office was that you were single, Carillo said he thought so, anyway. Said you weren’t sure if you’d even go without a date.” The question came from a well-known office busybody, Kelly, as she blew a big pink bubble with the gum in her mouth. I made a mental note to stop telling Carrillo, and anyone else for that matter, about my personal affairs on their stops to my desk on his way in and out of the building. 

I felt the blush creep up regardless of trying to stay busy at my computer. Sunday, Joel and I had “coincidentally” bumped into each other grabbing our papers at the same time, it was hard to sleep at all with the lingering feelings of him on my brain and on my body. He had smiled warmly at me and we met each other at the mouth of each of our respective driveways, just friendly neighbors having a chat, thanking the other for the invitation to a colleagues wedding. Polite small-talk about the weather, the upcoming holiday, Sarah and her friends, who had spent everyday together by their pool, how I’m welcome over anytime. 

“Joel is my neighbor.” I attempted to deadpan, clicking at the keys while reading written reports. Data transfer from the field gave me at least something to occupy my brain other than Joel.

She giggled and leaned over the glass separator, “He’s not like any of my neighbors. He’s handsome, huh?” 

I let my fingers stall on my task and flicked my eyes up to her, “Well, he’s my neighbor. Lives across the street with his kid.” the mine, definitely holding a double-meaning.

She hummed in response, a curt, small noise, “Single dad, huh? Not my first choice, personally.” her gum snapped against her teeth.

“Kelly.” I started, signing out her name in exasperation, leaving a pause in the air, raising my eyebrows at her, “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

She shrugged and chewed her gum loudly, “Just makin’ girl talk.”

I pursed my lips and closed the divider, effectively ending the conversation.

I heard her voice, muffled behind the thick glass, “It’s new, huh?” she was still smirking.

“Go away, Kelly.” I couldn’t hide the grin that spread slowly across my face, and she knew she won as she turned on her heels, clicking with every confident step she took.

I smoothed my pencil skirt and tucked my hair behind my ear before exhaling slowly and continuing on with my work. Reports weren’t going to file themselves.

The fourth of July, as Carol had told me from her garden beds in front of her house, always made the cul-de-sac pretty much packed from dawn well through the night. In the big turn-around at the end of the street, tables would be filled with food, drinks, desserts, ending with fireworks after the stars came out. With the holiday landing on Sunday this year, the only lull in the neighborhood would get would be when families disappeared for church early in the morning. 

I spent all of Saturday baking dozens of cupcakes to bring to the turnaround, and decorating them simply with swirls of red, white and blue, topped with sprinkles in matching shades. The Texas heat made it impossible to be comfortable with the oven stuck at 320 degrees all day, even with the roaring sun it was cooler outside than in, chugging sweet iced tea in the shade of my small back porch was the only thing keeping me cool.

I kept my attire casual, a half up ponytail tied with a red bow, white shorts and a navy blue tank top. I surely did not want to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the patriotic neighbors. Joel had made no attempt to actually speak with me beyond small talk all week, and I was beginning to get frustrated. Though, in his defense, his truck would be gone before I left and after I returned from work most days. I’d been blaming it on him owning his own business. Trying not to pine after him pathetically.

I made the first trip down the street to deliver 2 dozen cupcakes to the party, happily exchanging pleasantries with a few neighbors before excusing myself to retrieve the rest when Sarah and her friend, Anna, nearly knocked me down while rushing by on bicycles. Sarah stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me apologetically, “Sorry, we’ll pay more attention next time.”  she sucked in her breath.

“You’re okay, Sarah.” I waved the action off dismissively, “just be careful, I know there’s no car traffic tonight but there’s a lot of little kiddos around and older folk. You can’t be zipping through the crowd like that.”

“You’re right.” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “you sound like Dad, though.”

My heart lurched at the mention, “hey, where is your old man anyway?”

“Going to the store with Uncle Tommy.” She explained before Anna announced she was ready to go raid the appetizer table.

I made the second trip without so much as a howdy from anyone.

Walking back up the street the final time, I spied Tommy’s truck parked right next to Joel’s in his driveway, the brothers laughing together as they exited the house, Tommy’s arms full of paper bags nearly overflowing with food and drinks.

I tried to not notice how nice Joel looked in his ball cap and casual navy blue shirt. I just looked down at the pavement, folding my arms and walking up the driveway.

“Hold on, Tommy.” I heard his familiar drawl as I ascended the steps, “Hey, Sweetheart. Been meaning to catch you,” with the prying eyes of the neighborhood tucked away down the street, he had no problem gently taking my elbow in his hand to turn me towards him.

I furrowed my brows, “Oh, haven’t noticed.”

He scoffed a little, looking up the street to the busy party, the sun still about two hours from making its descent, “You free?”

“Just bringing cupcakes down to the party.”

“Okay.” his eyes flicked over my face, brows furrowed in concern as I popped the door open, entering the house, leaving the door open as an invitation for him to follow.

He tracked me through the living room and into the kitchen, where I handed him three clamshell cases of cupcakes and he stacked them up in his arms, “Make yourself useful, Miller.” I stated plainly, still having not looked at him properly.

“Hey… Sweetheart?” He seemed to chew on his question thoughtfully, not sure if he should speak or not.

I hummed in response, not trying to play cold, but trying not to seem like I’d been waiting on him all week.

“I’m real sorry I haven’t really reached out after… I’m not trying to… What do they call it these days… Ghost you.”

I snapped my eyes to his, waiting for him to finish, when he didn’t I shrugged, “I’m not obligated to your time, Joel. You have Sarah, your work. I was busy with work anyway. Had a lot of paperwork to do this week. You know, with the holiday. Wanted to make sure I had nothing they could call me into the station for.”

He nodded, sticking his tongue into his cheek, “I understand.”

“I suppose it’s partially my fault.” I rolled my shoulders back, straightening my posture, “We haven’t really swapped contact information, you know. Aside from the fact we could probably see into each other’s houses if we try hard enough.” 

He stifled a chuckle, “Sure. My fault, too. You’re so close after Sarah’s asleep I could just.. Throw a stone over and hit your door. I just-well.” he sighed, I waited, my worried brow relaxing, “-It’s been a real long time since I’ve… Tried to get out there. In any real sense of that phrase. I mean, I’m no prude, but-”

I nodded in understanding, “I figured. When we first had that big conversation over dinner at my place. I could tell that… For you, Sarah holds all of the stars in her eyes. You’re a father first. Nobody else can matter like that.”

His eyes softened and he adjusted his weight on his feet, “Thank you.” 

“We can take things slow, Joel. I won’t push. I don’t plan on pulling away, unless you want me to.”

I waited a few moments too long for his response, when none came I started toward the front door again, he hadn’t moved his feet from the spot in front of the fridge, “I meant it. Last week, when I said I would like you to come by again. Not have to rush like that. Maybe dinner with just me and Sarah.”

I turned toward him, his face had warmed with a pink flush, “For you? I’m free anytime after five, and weekends obviously.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath and nodded, following me out of the house.

Joel and I walked down the street together this time, while he relayed a story about Tommy and his trip to the tiny market a few blocks away, how Tommy was almost denied being sold beer due to his expired license and a new cashier who had never met the pair who frequented the shop, how Joel had to swoop in and vouch, showing him the matching surname on his ID. 

I giggled at his dramatic retelling as the noise of the neighborhood grew louder, until we joined the cliques of our little slice of the planet and Sarah found Joel, latching onto his waistline with her scrawny arms, begging him to let Anna sleepover just one more time this week, pretty, pretty please!.

He, of course, can never tell his sweet daughter no. So long as she sat and had dinner with the family, he turned to me after with a soft gaze and asked quietly, “Will you join us, too?”

I responded with a nod, trying to suppress the way my heart lurched at the offer, with all of the prying eyes of neighbors. It was another small step to be in public together. 

Tommy and Maria were loading their paper plates with burgers and side dishes, Joel seamlessly falling into step behind, grabbing a plate for me as well, telling me to fill up on anything I wanted.

I accepted the offer gratefully and did the same as the others, anything that looked good landed a spot on my quickly piling plate, “Make sure you grab some of those cupcakes at the dessert table, she worked real hard on those, I’m sure.” he nudged my side with his elbow.

Maria had laid a blanket out on the grass, staking our claim to a patch of grass past the border of the sidewalk, in perfect view of where the firework display would be later.

I smiled shyly as we all settled onto the blanket, and Maria and I exchanged pleasantries. Sarah talked about how her summer break was going, how in five weeks she couldn’t believe she’d be forced back into a classroom. “Good, keep your brains from rotting out of your head.” Tommy said through a mouthful of food, “You crazy kids are always running around the neighborhood. About time you get back to routine.”

Joel nodded in agreement, “You can’t be a doctor without a good education, Sare-Bear.”

Sarah groaned as she stabbed some pasta salad onto a fork, “I don’t wanna be a doctor, Dad. That was so two years ago.”

“Well excuse me.” he drawled.

“You’re bright enough you can be anything you want, Baby.” Maria pointed her fork at the pre-teen girl that sat criss-cross at the edge of the blanket.

I nodded as well, but didn’t feel it was my place to add anything in. Sarah went on about her plans with Anna for the night, crafting new bracelets and watching a new movie her friend had picked up to rent earlier in the day.

After the meal, Joel and Tommy went to go search for more beer in the garage, leaving me with just Maria as Sarah quickly lent herself back to her group of friends.

Maria looked at me with a curious expression after we were left on our own, “How are things?” she glanced behind her shoulder at Joel’s form slowly shrinking around the crowd of neighbors, then back at me.

“I think okay.” I shrugged, “Slow moving, but that’s not a bad thing. Still just getting to know each other, I think.”

“He has a lot on his plate.” she nodded, “Always has.”

I nodded in understanding, sipping from a bottle of water, “It seems that way, he told me about how the whole… Dating thing just hasn’t really worked. Always busy with Sarah and work.”

She gave me a tight mouthed smile, “You’re not worried?”

“About?”

“How if things don’t work you own the house across from him? Might be awkward.”

I shook my head, “No.”

She let out a soft hum and I began picking at a hangnail I only just noticed on my thumb, “Would be hard for Sarah.”

It took a lot of strength not to roll my eyes, “All anyone ever talks about is Sarah… I know she’s his universe but… what about Joel? When does Joel get a say? When does Joel get to be happy? When does Joel get to relax, have fun? Sarah is a sweet, smart girl. You know that, everybody can see it.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but it was impossible to keep the edge at bay, “Joel is kind. Hardworking, seems by all accounts I’ve witnessed honest, not to mention good looking. Sarah is first to everybody. We aren’t talking about marriage or anything, but Joel can be a priority just as much as Sarah can.”

Maria ticked her jaw to the side, “Tommy just  said he’s been talking about you to him while on job sites, and I… I just worry-”

“Rightfully so. He and Sarah are lucky to have people who worry about him, but Sarah is also old enough to know the basics of how… things work in the adult world, I’m sure. I’m sure there’s been times she wanted a female influence that wasn’t her aunt, or her friends’ mothers. He and I are still… working things out, haven’t even been on a real date yet, unless you count the wedding. There’s no pressure here, but I do like him.” 

She considered my words but didn’t respond, just looked to the side of us as Tommy and Joel’s cackling laughter could be heard, I turned to their direction with a smirk, watching Joel slap Tommy on the back, they had twin goofy grins on their faces and beers in their hands. 

“Hey, Doll.” Joel greeted as he returned to his spot next to me, resting his hand on my thigh now that Sarah had gone off with her friends again.

“Hey, Joel.” I feigned a smile and turned my attention back to him.

With the brothers back, conversation flowed more organically, and Tommy and Maria both took the opportunity to get to know more about me. The small details about the town I had come from in New England, that Texas was a perfect reprieve from harsh winters and slow seasons. That I didn’t really have any family, and therefore nothing to lose with moving halfway across the country. I liked my quiet time, my books, baking, and a simple life.

Eventually Tommy and Maria were pulled off by a small group of their friends who had joined in, friends of friends of neighbors. It seemed the more drinks that flowed the more people showed up for the display.

Joel and I held down the fort - being Maria’s picnic blanket. Laying on our backs in an otherwise mostly unpopulated stretch of grass. The volume of the music had started increasing, as did the volume of everyone else's conversations. 

“I’d like to take you out.” Joel interrupted a stretch of comfortable silence.

“Like, on a date or with a gun?” I joked.

He turned to face me with furrowed brows and a wicked smirk, “You think you’re real funny, huh? Course on a date.” he shook his head.

“Well,” I laughed, rolling onto my stomach to get closer to him, propping up my chin with my palm, “Just wanted to clarify, Miller.”

“Of course a date. A real date. Not a wedding, not dinner at each other’s house. You ‘n me. Restaurant or something. Figure out something else, too.”

I smiled and nodded in response, reaching over him to grab a neatly folded napkin leftover from dinner, “You have a pen?” 

“I’m a contractor.” he smirked, digging into his front pocket, pulling out a pencil, pen and permanent marker.

“You just carry those around? All the time?”

He shrugged, “Would it turn you on if I said yes?”

I laughed and playfully pushed him back over before grabbing the pen from him and carefully writing my number on the flimsy paper, “Here you go.” I handed him the napkin and he studied it with a smirk.

“Not a fake one, I hope?”

“You know where to find me if it is, don’t you?”

He looked up to the sky, now seeming to burn with soft shades of pink and orange, “I suppose I do.”

I had figured we’d been in the clear, having avoided nosy Carol until this point, but a shadow soon obstructed the warmth the remains of the sun offered, “Hey, kids!” she announced herself.

Joel and I looked up in unison, “Hey Mrs. Johnson.” he greeted her for the both of us, “Enjoying the holiday?”

She nodded in answer, “Looks like you are, too.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” I smiled at our neighbor, “Nice to get everybody together. I meant to tell you, your carnations are looking gorgeous.”

She gave a genuine smile before answering, “Almost time to cut them down for bouquets. They’ll make someone happy, I’m sure, and make room in my garden for something else. Sweetheart, there’s some drinks over there, Greg set up a sort of bar with one of the tables. Makes a mean margarita.”

“Thank you, Carol.” I answered, “I might take you up on that offer, actually. Care to join me, Miller?” I stood and reached my hand down to help him up.

He grabbed my hand and stood with a groan, as we approached the table a dozen or so neighbors perched at, all giggling with drinks in their hands, Joel greeted Greg with a firm handshake, without even a hello, Greg started as if Joel had been in conversation the entire time, “Oh, Buddy, that work you did in my bathroom has held up beautifully. No issues still. Felt like I was constantly having to have things worked on in there.”

“Well, because I did it right, Greg.” Greg was probably twenty or thirty years our senior, with kind eyes, sparse hair and an affinity for parties from what I’d heard. Like many of my neighbors, so far, I’d only briefly met him in passing. I knew faces and names, but nothing of substance.

He poured into a shot glass and handed me the small cup of clear liquid, without so much of a greeting, “Here, Dollface, this is for you.” 

“Thank you.” I nodded and let the feeling of straight vodka burn my throat. I shivered at the taste, immediately reminded of my too crazy freshman year of college.

“How are you liking the neighborhood now that you’re all settled?” Greg’s wife, Lisa asked from over the rim of a nearly empty cup.

“I love it, everyone has been so nice.” I smiled at the faces around the table.

“Good, not often we get new faces over on this end, especially young ones. All the young people are moving out, further into the city or leaving Texas entirely.”

A man hummed in response, nodding almost solemnly.

“I like it, it’s quiet. Working in the city is enough for me, I like to be able to separate at the end of the day.”

“What do you do, again?”

“She works for the police department. Front desk.” Joel answered for me, and his ears turned a shade pink, he covered it up by taking a long drink from his beer.

Greg smirked at Joel and gave me another pour, “Good benefits in a job like that, but stressful with all the crap that goes on in Austin, I bet.”

I nodded, though I kept my eyes on Joel, and he kept his trained on me, “It’s tough sometimes, but it stays pretty quiet aside from officers and agents and lawyers running in and out. I do a lot of paperwork, computer stuff, and sometimes direct calls if someone doesn’t know which department to call.”

Greg nodded before passing the glass back to me, and I didn’t flinch this time as I welcomed the burn of alcohol, setting the glass back on the table, “Carol tells me you make a mean margarita?”

I was happily tipsy by the time the sun went down, with jokes, innuendos, neighborhood gossip and stories fresh in my mind, Joel and I returned, giggling back to the abandoned blanket. Joel checked a note scrawled on a napkin, “Tommy had something going on in his neighborhood they forgot about, they left.” he explained with a lazy smirk on his face as he laid down on the blanket, now cold from the night air.

I hummed, “and Sarah?”

“I saw her on our way over here, she’s with Anna’s folks, the girls had some sort of handheld gaming thing they were playing on.” I laid down next to him and dared to lay my head into the crook of his arm, snuggling in close in what little privacy the moon and stars offered, he took a slow breath in and let his arm sink down across my back, he started rubbing slow, soothing patterns over my shirt.

Conversation around us settled into excited, quiet chatter about the display that was to be expected, how many people contributed to the display, and how long it would last. I listened intently to the noise around me, along with the even breathing from Joel’s chest, “You can learn a lot about our neighbors from just sitting back and listening, huh?”

He nodded, his chin pressed to the top of my head, “We’re a simple folk around here.”

I hummed quietly and turned my gaze up to him. No matter what lighting, no matter what setting, Joel always seemed so effortlessly good looking. It was almost unfair how even with just the moon, his eyes shone, how angular he was in just the right spots. 

He turned to face me and smirked, “You staring at me?”

My face felt heated and I looked away, “Sorry.”

He let out a noise that may have been a chuckle, but took his free hand, tilting my face back up to his, his thumb tracing a soft line over my cheek, jaw, neck. “You’re so beautiful.” he murmured, a slight rasp to his voice.

“Joel-” I started, but couldn’t finish my thought as he hushed me with a kiss, just as the first shriek of fireworks sang from the ground up, pop, pop, pop.

I pulled away to see the bright glow shimmer in his caramel eyes, before it dissipated and was replaced with another pop, pop, and fantastic red coated us in the cool of the night, “What?” he asked, still just inches from each other.

I shook my head and leaned back in, bathed in blues, greens, whites, every color imaginable while our neighbors wow’ed and awe’d at the display in the sky. I’d never cared much for firework shows. But with Joel’s hands on my back and his lips skimming across my face and neck, it really gave a new meaning to the way kissing someone can be described as fireworks in your chest. Everything with Joel had felt electric from the first time I saw him. His first polite Howdy, Ma’am, I’m Joel. Joel Miller.. 

I relished in the feeling of his teeth on my jaw, it was over all too soon as we both remembered where we were. Who was potentially watching. I was sure if Sarah was going to hear about her father kissing anyone, she’d want to hear it from him, not some neighborhood kid out to embarrass her.

We maintained our separate spaces until the end of the display. Each bang, pop, and hsss, and every swath of color filled me to the brim with happiness. I didn’t want to move from our spot. 

Joel walked back with me, with Sarah and Anna in tow, the girls giggling about something funny another friend had done, groaning about how a boy chased them with a worm. Joel smirked at me, rolling his eyes, “Kids.”

I returned his smile as Sarah and Anna ascended the front porch without even checking for Joel, closing the door behind them.

“Thank you for today.” I looked up at his towering figure.

He shrugged, like it was no big deal, “Of course. This is the first year that Sarah sort of… Took care of herself for the day-if that’s the right way to put it. It was nice to focus on someone other than her. Has been nice, I guess.”

“Well, I gotta head home. I’m expecting a call tonight.”

“Oh? From who?” he quirked an eyebrow up.

“Oh, you know. Nobody too special. Just some guy with thick curly hair, big brown puppy eyes. Someone who I’m sure will be busy with two rambunctious kids way too hyped up on sugar.”

He chuckled and leaned down to press his lips to mine briefly, hand pressed to my cheek, “Sounds like an important call, you might want to go head in and wait for it. Shouldn’t be long before those kids crash down from all that sugar.”

I smiled and chased his lips as he pulled away, and he granted me another kiss, deeper this time, grunting against my mouth, “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“What can I say? He knows his kid.”

He ran his hand from my jawline down all the way down to my waist, pulling me flush against him and kissing me a final time before releasing me. He was silent in the middle of the street as I walked up the driveway and the steps to my front door, “Hey, Sweetheart?”

I turned back to face him, “Hey, Miller.”

“You looked real pretty today. You.. look pretty every day.”

I couldn’t help the blush that crept up, and tried to stifle it by pinning my lower lip between my teeth, “Not so bad yourself, Cowboy.”

He huffed a laugh and turned on his heel, walking up the path to his house, the main lights all glowing out into his yard, “Alright, girls. Snack, teeth, bed. It’s way too late.” I heard him half-shout over rambunctious laughter from the main room as his door opened and shut, sealing them all inside.

I smirked to myself before turning in myself; washing my face in the single basin sink, taking my hair down, brushing out the grass and knots acquired from laying out in the sun most of the day, stripping down and slipping into loose sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that the years hadn’t been kind to. Just as soon as I flicked off the lights and retreated to my bedroom, the phone rang from it’s cradle in the kitchen. I’d never jumped up to reach a phone so fast. The clock read it was after ten now.

“Hello?” I smirked against the phone, cradling the hard plastic between my cheek and shoulder as I stood in the dark room.

“This wouldn’t happen to be a sweet little doll I know, would it? Long hair, sorta short in stature. Killer ass.”

I laughed into the phone at Joel’s familiar drawl, “You are pushing your luck, Joel Miller.”

He answered with a deep chuckle, and I heard a rustling sound from his end of the line, “Pushing my luck, might be my middle name. Glad to know it wasn’t a fake number, after all.”

I hummed in answer, bringing the cordless phone down the hall to my bedroom, settling between the comforter and sheets, flicking the lamp on, “Like I said, you know where to find me if it was.”

“Tempting regardless if it was fake or not.”

I bit down on my lip and nestled down into the blankets further, cocooning myself in the soft, warm blends of fabric, “If only you hadn’t agreed to let Sarah have a friend over, maybe next time you can convince Anna’s folks to keep Sarah.”

“Tried, Sarah misses my Sunday breakfasts when she’s gone.” he chuckled into the phone.

“Joel Miller the chef, who knew?”

“I don’t just build houses, Sweetheart, I can build a mean plate of breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon-”

“-Sausage?” I added a flirty lilt to my tone.

There was a shuffling noise again, I could picture his dimples as I heard the smile in his honey-like voice. Syrupy sweet. “For you, pretty girl, anything you want.” he took a deep breath before adding, “You in bed right now?”

“What if I am?”

A soft hum, “Makes two of us,” another deep inhale, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last week.”

I swallowed my smirk, taking a moment to calm the way my heart fluttered, “Me, too.”

“Been a long time since I’ve had a hard time staying away from someone.”

“I know the feeling, trust me.” I hesitated, “How long for you?”

He scoffed, “Trying to embarrass me? Like I said before, I’m no prude. There’s been times,” he seemed to hesitate, “I saw someone seriously about five years ago. Moved in and everything.”

“Wow, what happened?”

“Didn’t wanna play stepmomma. Or whatever, was some lame excuse. Didn’t feel like a real family to her, so I told her to forget it. Single dads aren’t for everyone.”

I tsked quietly, “Must have been hard.”

“Especially for Sarah.” he sighed, “She liked her until Ronnie-Veronica, moved in. They got on well with limited time, but they started stepping on each other’s toes really fast.”

I sighed, trying to form anything else to say other than a lame sorry before his voice cut in again, breaking the quiet, “What about you? What’s your story?”

I shook my head, not wanting to go into the full extent of details, “Something bad happened between me and my ex. We were never good for each other, and when things got more serious he showed his true colors. Things got physical, to say the least. The last time I saw him it was-it was bad. Should have went to the hospital but I ran home with my tail between my legs, back to Momma. Didn’t leave the house until the bruises were gone.” I nearly choked on the words in my throat. “Was four years ago this spring. I was no prude either, but… I don’t know what it is about this town,” I inhaled, calming the threat of tears, “About you. You feel safe. This place feels safe.”

I took him about three beats too long to respond, “Oh, Baby.” he cooed softly, and more rustling came from his end of the phone, “I’m sorry.”

I nodded, nearly forgetting he wasn’t here to see the gesture, “Don’t, Joel - really. It’s why I work with the PD now. Desk job, sure. Not dealing with specifics or super hands on. But sometimes these girls come in, not knowing what to do, and I can look at them and really say… I know. Sometimes it's all they need to help them say they’re ready for the next steps.”

His voice grew softer than I had ever heard it yet, and he let loose a breath he’d no doubt been holding, “That makes sense, Sweetheart. Very good of you.”

“I didn’t expect to have this talk tonight, Joel.” my voice was as soft as a mouse now.

“Glad we did, though. I’d never-”

“I know. You’re good. Better than I deserve, and I can see that from ten miles away, I’m looking forward to getting to know you more. Getting to know Sarah, and Tommy and Maria. Even if Maria sort of scared me today. Truly.”

“What did Maria do?” his voice perked, and I could almost hear the suspicious crinkle in his eyes.

“Nothing.” I pinched my brow, cursing myself for saying anything at all, “Just that you’ve been talking about me to Tommy, and that she’s worried about if things go south. Me being your neighbor and all.”

I heard a soft thump, and imagined him tossing his head back onto his pillow, I wondered briefly if the cases smelled like him, how he looked all tucked in and sleepy, “She means well, good intentions, poor execution sort of thing. She worries-”

“About Sarah, mostly.” I cut him off with a breathy laugh.

“Right.”

“You’re lucky.” My voice was growing heavy with sleep, I laid my head on the phone, the green glow of the screen displaying his number warmed my face, “To have people that worry over you and your girl.”

“I count my lucky stars every day, that's for sure.”

I hummed quietly in answer, “You need to get your beauty sleep, Cowboy. Need all the strength you can get to make your big breakfast for the girls in the morning.”

He ticked his tongue against his teeth, “I suppose you’re right.” a brief pause, “Come over. Pajamas, bed head and all. I reckon they’ll be up with the sun. Therefore, I’ll be up with the sun.”

I smiled into the phone, “You got it, Joel. Goodnight.”

“Night, Sweetheart.”

[star-girl69]

Keep Me Ablaze

(Headcannons)

the early years (neytiri edition)

a/n: i hope you all enjoy some silly headcannons abt my fav silly girls

—-

neytiri really truly thought that you were just friends

like yeah, she thought you were the most beautiful person she has ever seen, but like she just has eyes??? it doesn’t mean anything

(it does)

she loves you so much bc you’re her bff and since she’s still quite young, she’s not sure how to express that love yet

she watches everyone else in the clan preform courting rituals

giving gifts, showing off, and it all ends with them hugging!!

and she loves to hug you

so in her mind: give gifts + be amazing = you!!!

every single day you get dragged off to the training fields for the young warriors and watch as neytiri shoots arrow after arrow with precision

you’re just clapping and saying how good she is because why wouldn’t you???

and neytiri’s all happy because you think she’s amazing and strong!!!! she can protect you and you can just be best friends forever!!!

she brings you flowers or plants all the time, and watches as you write all of the characteristics down on a sheet of paper to stick in your book

she LOVES making little necklaces or bracelets for you, using her favorite colors so that hopefully everyone will get the hint

you’re HER best friend obviously!!! you’re going to be together forever, and she’s gonna take care of you and protect you, and it’s all gonna be great and amazing!!!

then sylwanin dies, and she’s heartbroken, and she keeps trying to run for you to comfort but then the school gets shut down a week later

she understands that she can’t see you because of what the humans did, and ofc she hates them with a passion, but in her mind you’re not really human

you look like them, talk like them, but you love her and you love the forest. you’re not like them, not in the way that it matters

the reason that she calls you “my human” is because she wants to show you that she loves you no matter what you look like and also bc she’s being a little petty tbh…

for months after the school is shut down she keeps finding flowers and thinking “y/n would love this!” before she remembers

she lost her best friend and her sister in the span of a week, and she feels so utterly alone that when it eventually manifests into dreams about you she’s actually really happy

it also makes her a little sad because this is the only place she can see you

she can’t just go to the spirit tree and see you like she sees sylwanin, her dreams are random and often short.

sometimes she even has nightmares about something happening to you, and no matter what she does, how many arrows she shoots, she can never seem to save you

but, the good dreams she does have are only all the more special

after being so close with you in her childhood, and her dreams about you kinda turning into this special, coveted thing that definitely reflects into your relationship when you’re older

(aka she’s the most possessive person in the entire world)

—-

taglist:

@eywas-heir @kitkat1690 @tiajk @reallysparklychaos @behindthearcane @neteyamforlife @aeslenya @ghoulbli @luvvsnae @personapersonally @bubble-blu @ameriesworld @itsyoboysparkel @ok-boke @arschbohrer @ambria @ssc7514 @w3ird11 @vane28282 @littlexscarletxwitch @erenjaegerwifee @myheartfollower @simp-erformarvelwomen @maevirago @n7cje @aerangi @minkyungseokie @disaster-in-waiting @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @hot15936 @noname2246 @fanboyluvr @ara-a-bird @fussel9913 @iwaslikeblah @hai-kbai @rosymccheese @itszzmoon @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lovekeeho @ducks118 @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @milf-lover-23 @the-wandering-pan-ace @scaredknight

everything taglist:

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[brayneworms]

fearful, wonderful.

featuring. scaramouche.

tags. kabukimono!scaramouche, trans!scaramouche, yokai!reader, gender-neutral reader, slowburn, general allusions to war and death, yokai lore/imagery.

word count. 4.09k

notes. MINORS DNI

synopsis. the both of you are missing pieces. you will never be human. you will be more human than anything that came before you.

masterlist. prev. next. ao3.

I. EVEN THE IRON STILL FEARS THE ROT.

There are spirits that live in your eyes. 

They live, they dance, they die, all in the confines of your sclera. Sometimes when you blink, you see them imprinted even in your mind. Some of them are your friends, some your enemies. It doesn’t matter at the end of the day. They live and they dance and they die all the same. You watch decades go by in a blink. You watch a flower sprout and bloom and die before you can even think to pluck it. Beauty is something that escapes you, the longer the years go on. The stars blur together in silver streaks across the sky, unending glistening tubers counting the years of your misery.

You find something like solace in Tatarasuna. Your village nests itself at the bedrock of a cluster of mountains that jut up against the Inazuman horizon. You’ve lived through the war, now you reach peace. Peace is a house with a red door and a lavender-melon tree outside. Peace is a community of humans who are all kinder and more well-meaning people than you. Peace is the children that play in the flowery meadows, the elderly women who hang their wet linens on the wires outside their homes, the men who chop wood and manhandle iron. 

Peace is laying down to sleep on your futon every night with the knowledge of all your days spent, and all the ones yet to come. Peace is dreaming of friends long dead and mistaking for a moment that they will be there to greet you when you wake, only to open your eyes to an empty room, a cold hearth. You keep your teacups out of the cupboard, hanging from little wire hooks protruding from the sugi wood. They’re seto, hardly finely crafted, but you think built with heart. That is something humans are good at. Building with heart. They stir love into their creations.

You have never known yōkai to do the same. 

You make tea in the evening. The sun crests over the purple sky, dips behind the mountains, shading your village in fiery light. You look out of the window of your kitchen; the glass has become cloudy over time, built up with moss and condensation piling between the panes, but you can see out, far out, across the lavender field. Two children play there, throwing a ball made of cloth back and forward. As your water starts to boil over the fire, their mother wanders out, takes them both by the wrist and hauls them back inside whilst they cry and whine. 

There is something so human in that, you think. They know the meadow will be here tomorrow, that the moths will not consume their cloth ball in the night. And yet they cry. It is so human to want everything to linger in the here and now. 

They have no sense of future or past. They seek beauty in its extremity, hunt for it under every corner, drink it like lifeblood. 

You’re beginning to see the appeal, the longer you stay. 

Your tea is earthy. It’s made from dendrobium. 

You drink it outside in the dying light, and it looks like blood, and it feels like home on your lips. 

You find Katsuragi one evening on Nazuchi beach. You know that he sometimes takes off his shoes and walks along the foamy shore, looking for crabs or turtles that have wandered into water too shallow and tossing them back to the tide. 

Katsuragi is a softhearted man. He slants his hand against the sun to see you properly as you approach. Your footsteps sink deeply into the purplish sand—further than they should, for someone of your size. It is one of the many things about you that you’ve learned unnerve the humans. 

You slide your geta off your feet as you approach the shoreline, hold them by the woollen band between two fingers. Katsuragi bends down and observes a jellyfish trapped in a rock pool. 

“Don’t touch that,” you tell him as he reaches. “They sting.”

“Do they?” He looks surprised. “I’ve never been stung.”

You shrug. “Maybe they sense your kind intentions.”

“Ah, well, I’m absolutely brimming with those.” Katsuragi grins, then leans down again. You tap his wrists sharply. 

“Let me,” you mutter. “I don’t feel it.”

“Of course. I forget.” 

You don’t know if that’s the truth. Most of Taratsuna knows that you’re a yōkai, even if only because you’ve lived in the same place for around a hundred years and not aged a day. They have no clue how long you’ve lived before that, though. And they never will.

You cup the water beneath the jellyfish with two hands. It squirms in your grip as you lift it into the air; its feelers wrap over your arm like pale ribbons; its body is soft and rubbery and achingly vulnerable in your hands. You wonder if it knows that its attempts to sting you are in vain. You wonder if all things hurt the people trying to help them, only because they don’t know aid from sabotage. 

It slips from your hands back into the water and disappears beneath the surface. 

“Thank you,” Katsuragi says earnestly. “You’re a good soul, Y/n.”

You don’t tell Katsuragi that there is a large part of you that doesn’t come alive unless you are hurting or being hurt.  

“I’m not,” you say instead. “I’m tsukumogami. I have no soul.”

“Jellyfish have no brains,” Katsuragi shrugs. “But we care for them all the same, don’t we?”

One night—the night that everything changes—sleep escapes you. 

Every time you close your eyes you see war. You are seto-taishō, and so it is all that you know. Rain pours down from the black sky in sheets, collects in the mossy gutters and pools on rooftops. The lavender meadow by your house will flood at this rate. You think of all those flowers coming loose from the topsoil like a hundred thousand frail purple corpses, awash downstream. 

You keep a collection of scrolls tucked away inside a dresser drawer; they tell stories of your life, your past, your friends. All of it long gone and dead, yet their pictures remain. You unroll them tonight, loosening the velvet ribbons that catch them fast, lay out the worn parchment over your dining table. You run your fingers over the cracked and faded paint. What will you have left of them when even these scrolls return to dust? Your own memories? What a sick joke.

Their screams echo in your ears; you feel your skin press tight over your bones, like your heart is too big for your body, and you press your knuckles to your mouth to stifle a scream. Tatarasuna is good. The people here are good. You are not, and it is why you will never belong. 

It is why you will never integrate yourself with them, because they are only humans, and their lives pass you by in a blink. You have loved and hated an uncountable number of humans, and they live and die just the same, and it hurts so badly that it’s all you can do to shut it all out. You’ve learned that it’s easy to become entranced with humanity, and their kindness, and their hope and resilience—but it is just as easy to become revolted with it. With their fleeting lives and their selfishness and their hypocrisy. 

At first you think you hallucinate the knock at your door. It’s pitch black outside and howling a gale; lightning forks down from the sky habitually, blazing the landscape violet for a split second before it dissipates back into darkness. But then it comes again—more frantic, more urgent, and you set your scrolls to the side with a mounting feeling of suspicion. 

You think about hunting for your weapons. It seems you truly cannot escape your nature, or you would have burned the things years ago. As it is, they lay stashed and growing dust under your wardrobe. In lieu of arming yourself to the teeth, you slip a delicate half-dagger into your sock as you approach to the door. You press your ear to the wood, hearing nothing for a moment but the dull roar of the storm outside. 

And then another knock. 

You crack the door open. A curtain of cold wind whips inside, making your lit hearth sputter and protest and choke out a plume of black smoke. 

And Katsuragi says, “Hear me out.”

Your brow furrows. A crack of violet lightning splits the sky, and you see them. A figure so much smaller than Katsuragi that they were almost swallowed entirely. Head bent against the lashing rain, small and slender against Katsuragi’s thick corded-muscle arms. You blink, looking from the nameless figure back to Katsuragi. He lifts his eyebrows, beseeching. 

Slowly, you open the door. Katsuragi sags with relief and steps over the threshold, and it's only as the both of them pass over it that you notice they’re holding hands. The sight of it looks bizarre. The figure behind him moves with both easy grace and childish uncertainty. Their lithe, pale fingers curl around Katsuragi’s fist.

“Thank you,” Katsuragi pants, swiping his dripping wet hair from his forehead. You close the door silently behind him, culling the howling gale. “You don’t know what this means. I barely do.”

“Explain,” you say quietly, eyes flickering from the man you recognise to the figure you do not. They stand quite still in the middle of your living room, dripping water onto the tatami flooring. 

“Yes,” Katsuragi says, then promptly gets distracted. “Hey there, don’t stand so close to the fire,” he chides, seizing the figure by their wrist and pulling. “You’ll get burnt. Or your robes will set alight.”

They go without question, stumbling where Katsuragi’s gentle pull guides them. The longer you look at this figure in your living room, the more your hair is standing on end. “Katsuragi?”

“Yes. Sorry.” He hesitates, then jerks his head. You follow him into the hallway and he slides the door shut behind you; the figure in your living room watches, unblinking, until the very moment the door touches the frame. Wide blue eyes, like ice shimmering on a winter lake. “I found him at Shakkei Pavilion. Just wandering around. He had this on him.”

Katsuragi hands you something. Your eyes widen as your eyes come to focus on it—an elegant golden feather, unmistakable. 

“Hung around his neck,” Katsuragi says lowly. “It’s a mark of the archons.”

“The Shogun?” you mutter, turning your head back to the closed door in disbelief. 

“I see the resemblance alright,” Katsuragi says. “It’s strange. I don’t think he’s quite… human.”

Your spine stiffens. “What do you mean? He’s… yōkai?”

“No, not quite,” Katsuragi winces, looking awkward. “But… we walked in that rain for nearly an hour. I’m about to catch my death from the cold, and he was just… standing there like he didn’t even feel it. I don’t even think he was breathing.”

“I’ve never heard of anything quite like that,” you admit. “But… why bring him to me?”

Katsuragi bites his lip. “I can’t… in good conscience cast him aside,” he says quietly. “By the looks of things, he’s been abandoned once already. The—the look in his eyes, when he realised I was trying to take him with me… almost like he’d never even conceived of it before. But I also—I don’t have the time to look over him all day, not with my job. And yet… he hungers for it, I can tell. To be a part of something.”

“Is that so?” you say archly. “And how can you tell?”

Katsuragi’s eyes soften. “I see it on your own face often enough.”

Your jaw clenches. “Losing your sight in your old age, I see,” you spit. “Or maybe you’ve taken one too many hits to the head.”

A breathless chuckle. “But, see… I think him finding a place in this village will be good for him. I’ll pay a visit to my friend Niwa in the morning—he taught my niece to read and write, you know? He could learn to be a real person.”

You almost ask, why do you care so much? And then you remember that this is Katsuragi. Katsuragi who wanders the shores in his spare hours, finding sea animals who had wandered too close to land. All Katsuragi did was look out for lost souls. He collects them—things without brains. Things without souls. You cast a glance at the shut door again, picturing the figure behind it.

Things without hearts.

“So you want me to… what?” You look at Katsuragi in disbelief. “I’m not the one to raise him, Katsuragi.”

He shrugs. “He’s not a child. He is ignorant of the world, sure, but he seems to have lived much of it already. You wouldn’t be a parent. You’d be a friend.”

“A friend?” you repeat with derision. “I’m hardly fit to be anyone’s friend.”

“Well, I’m hurt.” Katsuragi grins. “All this time, I thought we were buds.”

“You’re hilarious,” you say acidly. “Be serious. Let Niwa house him. Do it yourself, if you care so much.”

“I can’t,” he begs. “Nobody else can. Don’t you see?”

And suddenly you do. You are the only one suited to look over him, because of one very specific thing you both have in common. You are not human. And neither is he. 

“You don’t want him to be alone,” you say quietly. Katsuragi looks at you helplessly. “I think you’re making a mistake, entrusting him to me.”

Katsuragi gives you a crooked smile. “Who says I’m not entrusting you to him?”

The thing—boy?—has moved a little from where you both left him when you shut the door. His back was to you, and he was stooped slightly over your dresser, examining the small collections of kitchenware you had stored carelessly upon there. 

“What are you doing?” you snap, striding over. The puppet doesn’t flinch, exactly, but his body sort of locks up in surprise, and he turns those wide indigo eyes over to you with the sort of innocence you’d once thought only small children or animals possessed. The seto cup in his hand trembles. 

“I was… just looking,” he says tremulously.

“You’re touching,” you grit out. “Touching isn’t looking.”

The puppet looks down at the cup in his hands, and then he slowly sets it down on the dresser. His features—somehow soft and pointed at the same time—are taut with faint confusion. “Is it valuable?”

“To me, yes.” You snatch the cup up and hang it back on its hook. The puppet’s eyes follow you, hopelessly confused. You sort of feel like you’re pointing a crossbow at a deer that’s never been hunted before. 

“Easy, now,” Katsuragi intervenes—he raises his hands as though about to place them placatingly on your shoulders, but the venomous look you shoot him cowes him. He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, instead. “He didn’t know, okay?”

You bite your lip, staying schtum. The puppet looks from you to Katsuragi uncertainly. The silence swells. 

Finally, Katsuragi stoops down to talk to the puppet. “So… you’re going to be staying here for a while, okay? At least until we figure out what more we can do.”

The puppet’s lashes flicker in surprise. “Will I see you again?”

“Of course,” Katsuragi says warmly. “I’ll stop by all the time. I just don’t have the time to house you with me at the moment, okay?”

“I’m not going back to the Pavilion?” the puppet asks quietly. “I… get to stay?”

Katsuragi raises his eyes and looks at you beseechingly. 

This is a terrible idea. 

You’re going to ruin this poor puppet’s life. 

You throw up your hands in exasperation and nod. 

As Katsuragi says his goodbyes, you go to the closet and pull out a spare futon and some blankets. There’s a spare room, but it’s about the size of a large cupboard and currently is used to store your old armour and weapons. The puppet will have to share your room. You unroll the futon in the furthest corner from your own bed, right under the window. Muted strips of moonlight fall over the sheets, stifled by the rainfall. 

When you wander back into the living room, Katsuragi is preparing to leave. You hesitate.

“Don’t want to dry off before you go?” 

He shakes his head with a demure smile. “Not much point. I’ll get soaked either way.” He walks over to you with his dark eyes soft and open. “Thank you for this. I’m grateful.” His voice drops. “So is he.”

You don’t voice any of the things that rise to your lips instinctively. This is a mistake. I’ll mess this up. I’ll mess him up. 

I can’t teach life. All I know is death. 

Instead, you shrug. “Whatever.”

With another pat on the puppet’s head, Katsuragi departs. The puppet’s eyes follow him warily before turning to you. The expression on his face is expectant, like he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do.

You cast an awkward look around. “Are you… cold?”

The puppet blinks. “I don’t think so.” He looks down at his soaked clothes as though they don’t even belong to him. “That’s rain outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

The puppet looks thoughtful. “I heard it often, in the Pavillion. I always wondered what it looked like. What it felt like. But I couldn’t feel much of it.”

“Right.” You shift awkwardly. “Well… you should change into some dry clothes, at least.”

The puppet blinks. Tilts his head curiously. “Why?”

“Just… you know.” Your tongue feels too big and awkward for your mouth, and you have to bite back an irritated huff. “It’ll feel better.”

The puppet still looks confused, but he only bites his lip this time instead of answering. The skin there, caught between his teeth, is smooth and unmarred. The clothing in question is, indeed, so wet that it’s sticking to him. The plain, unembellished karaginu is practically translucent against his fair skin, his dark katsugi veil clinging to his long, dark hair. And what hair—it cascades like a dark waterfall down to his waist, stringy with rainwater, framing a thin, pale face. 

He looks like a woman, in this light. Pretty enough to be one, you suppose. The feminine clothing and hair weren’t helping. 

You rummage in your cupboards for a spare jinbei, hands curling over soft eggshell cotton. When you press them into his arms, he looks hopelessly confused, and you heave a sigh. 

“Undress yourself, and put these on,” you tell him. “Your bed is in that room, under the window.”

You turn your back, wandering into the kitchen to make tea. You take a cup—not your seto ones, they never get used for something as prosaic as teamaking—and spoon dried curdled leaves into it, light a fire under a pot of water. It bubbles happily away as the flame catches and sputters in earnest. 

You look over your shoulder, intending to ask the puppet if he would like something to drink also (do puppets need to drink? Do they need to eat?) but your voice dies in your throat. His veil lies in a wet pile of diaphanous lilac silk at his feet. He has struggled halfway out of his karaginu, the top half pooling limply at his waist as he works at his belt. 

“W-what are you doing?!”

The puppet’s head snaps up at your near-shout, eyes wide. His fingers fumble at his waist, and the sharp jut of his shoulder blades and spine contort as he whirls around to stare at you. 

“Don’t change here,” you tell him incredulously. “Go into the bathroom or the bedroom.”

The puppet looks utterly bewildered and a little hurt. “What? W-why?”

“For privacy.” You take a deep breath through your teeth. He lived alone in a domain for Archons-know how long. Of course he would be unaccustomed to the concept of shame. Maybe it’s not right for you to introduce him to it—but you can’t pretend the sight of his bare torso doesn’t rattle you in all the wrong ways. Strange markings carve into his skin at the elbows and shoulders. They look like weird shadows, but you don’t keep your eyes on them long enough to gauge their meaning. All you see is an expanse of smooth, unmarred skin. 

“I don’t understand,” the puppet says quietly. “Is my body offensive?”

“It’s not that,” you get out through gritted teeth, eyes glued to the wall. “It’s just… decent. Please go and change somewhere else.”

There’s a pause—and then you hear a quiet rustle of shifting clothing. Silently, the puppet picks up his sleepwear and treads down the hallway to the bathroom. The door slides shut with a sound like a sigh behind him. 

You turn back to your tea, trying not to feel guilty. The water in the pot froths and spits now, starting to bubble over the cast-iron rim. You wonder if you hurt the puppet’s feelings. You wonder if he has any feelings to hurt. 

Things without souls. Things without hearts. 

What a pair we make. 

Katsuragi’s trust in you feels like a sick joke. 

You pour the tea, and whilst it cools, walk over to where the puppet was changing. He left his veil in a sodden pile on the floor, so you pick it up and hang it on one of the coat hanger hooks. It drips sullenly and relentlessly, a steady dull tapping against the tatami flooring. You cast a glance at the closed door, the one the puppet undresses behind. 

Aid and sabotage. 

Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know the difference. 

After another ten minutes, the door slides open in a soft rush. The puppet pokes his head around the frame. “Am I wearing it right?”

The shirt is backwards, and when you tell him so a frustrated furrow carves itself between his brows. He wriggles his arms back out of the holes and twists the fabric around his torso—and then he looks up at you, and you think that if he had the capacity to breathe his breath would be bated. He looks as though his every happiness clings to you telling him he’s finally done something right. His eyes are impossibly big, like night-blooming lilies, begging for your blessing. 

He doesn’t yet know that you are unfit to give it. 

You nod tersely, drain the last of your tea. “Give me your wet clothes,” you tell him. “I’ll hang them up to dry.”

He scrambles to obey, shoving the damp pile of fabric at you with haste. He watches you hang them up like it’s the most captivating thing in the world, rosebud lips parted in awe. 

When you show him his futon, his eyes gleam. He sets his body down gingerly, spreads his palm over the sheets. Feeling the fabric to an almost obsessive degree, clenching his fists so the white cotton bleeds between his fingers, rubbing his cheek against the pillow like a cat. As you settle into your own bed, staring emptily up at the ceiling, you hear him shift, a rustle as he sits up.

“Why didn’t Katsuragi want me?” he asks.

“He didn’t have time for you,” you answer. “He works a lot.”

There is a short pause as the puppet processes this. “Why did you want me?”

“I didn’t,” you grit out. “But I have you now.”

There is quiet, broken only by the endless rush of rain outside. Then the puppet sighs, long and deep and mournful. 

“I might have known.” His words seep into the darkness, a million miles from the neutral, curious tone you’ve heard so far. His voice sounds hoarse and much older, suddenly, weighed down with a hundred years of pain. “Nobody ever really wants me.”

With that, he turns on his side, pulling the blankets up over his head. 

You don’t know if he sleeps. You certainly don’t.

When you close your eyes after a few hours, you see spirits. They dance and they live and they die. The smell of blood wakes you up. As usual, when you bolt upright, gasping for breath, they are not there. 

Someone is, though. For the first time in you don’t even know how long, someone is. 

The knowledge of that soothes you back to sleep.