#this has been sitting in my drafts forever and i feel like it deserves to see the light of day

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

(x)

[peachsukii]

unbreakable bonds ꒰ no quirks au | childhood friends | friends to lovers ꒱ ⇢ a collective of family bonding and little moments between you and katsuki.

『♡』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ tags & content ꒱ emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, happiness all around ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just wanted to write something sickly sweet and it’s been sitting in my drafts forever. reader has a little sister that helps bond the two of you together over the years. cross posted to ao3 | word count; 3.3k -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

You were too young - a little over three - to understand the day your mom brought home your little sister. You'd been secretly asking the universe for a sibling, someone to share everything with. Ask and you shall receive! But, you never knew just how much she would shape your life into what it is today.

The Kingdom - Elementary School

Fourth grade is when you and Katsuki started to play after school together on a daily basis. Him and Izuku would come by and grab snacks from your mom while you went back to the park around the corner, playing pirates and super heroes with the other neighborhood kids. Every so often, your mom would ask for you to bring your sister along. You never minded, even though she was your baby sister in first grade. The boys would pick on her - lovingly, of course - to make her feel included with the rest of the pack. She loved being around you, cooing and giggling away as she'd hold your hand and squeal with delight.

One day at the park, she'd declared herself to be queen of the castle as she stood on the slide, proudly puffing out her chest with her hands on her hips.

"I am the queen, and what I say goes!" she pointed to you and Katsuki. "Sissy will be the princess and you will be our royal guard, Katsu!"

You chuckle. "Isn't the older sister supposed to be queen?"

She does her best impression of a royal laugh, projecting her voice theatrically. "Not in my land! It's my kingdom and if you don't like it, I'll send you to the brig!"

"You're confusin' pirates 'n princesses again,” Katsuki taunts playfully.

She stomps her foot on the slide. “Silence in my kingdom! Izu will be my knight!”

Katsuki pouts. “Hey! Why don’t I get to be the knight?!’

“Cause I say so! You’re the royal guard cause you’re tough. Izu is the knight because he’s brave!”

You can’t help but let out a loud ‘hah!’ at her comment. Your sister never failed to push Katsuki in the cutest ways - he probably was thankful to be an only child whenever you guys would go home for the day.

Katsuki huffs at her declaration, taking the challenge with stride. “Fine! I’ll show you who’s tough and be the best dang guard in the whole world.”

“Do I get a cool set of armor, queen?” Izuku asks, bouncing up and down at the bottom of the slide.

“Of course! Only the best armor and ponies for my royal kingdom.”

She sits and pushes herself down the metal slide, rocketing off the edge past Izuku and barreling toward Katsuki. She trucks into him at full force - but, being small, that force isn’t much for him to withstand.

“What the heck was that for?!” he yells while catching her before she hits the wood chips.

“A test of your toughness, Katsu! And you passed! You’re deserving of a spot in my kingdom,” she giggles, mashing his cheeks together with her tiny palms. He protests her closeness and tries to fight her off, setting her feet back on the ground while she’s wiggling in his hold. Watching the two of them act like siblings themselves always made you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, knowing your two closest friends also adored your sister as much as you did.

You meander over to grab her from him. “Alright, I think you made your point, queen. Your guard and knight have other duties to get to.”

She waves goodbye to the boys over her shoulder as the two of you stroll home for dinner. She gleefully remarks how cool they are and that she can’t wait to marry them someday.

You can’t help but giggle at the thought. “Both of them? Wow, all to yourself, huh?”

She pouts and whips her head upward. “No, sissy! We both get one!”

”Oh yeah? Because you’re the queen of the kingdom, you get to pick?”

“That’s right! They’ll have to fight to see who gets to pick you!”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head at the thought. You’re only ten years old, the thought of boys fighting over you was hilarious.

”Promise not to tell Izu, but I think Katsu would win that fight,” she whispers, tugging on your hand to get you to lean over closer to her face. “He’s taller and faster!”

The thought of marrying Katsuki flashes in your mind - you have zero clue what that even looks like, but you imagine him bringing you flowers on the playground or giving you a bite of his ice cream. A blush creeps over your cheeks and nose at the thought. Your sister catches your reaction and gasps dramatically.

“You like Katsu?!” she exclaims.

You shush her. “No! Don’t go yelling that!”

That’s a big fat lie. You liked him a lot, he was your favorite person, but you’re kids.

It’s just a harmless crush.

───

An Enchanted Afternoon - Elementary School

A week later, the four of you returned to the playground after school. Snacks from your pantry in hand, the bunch of you sit on the swing set to eat. Your sister seemed extremely eager today, more so than usual. Once you all finished eating, she demanded your attention.

"Gather 'round! Your queen summons you," she declares, arms raised above her head. You and the boys huddle around her.

"Katsu, go fetch flowers!" she orders as she points to a nearby patch of grass. "Zuzu, clear out the sandbox of any villagers."

There wasn't anyone else here today, so that job was easily done. Izuku doesn't say anything and smiles as he heads over to the sandbox as ordered. Katsuki is confused, nose scrunched and arms crossed.

"Why do I need to get flowers?" he asks, tapping his foot in the wood chips.

"Do you dare defy your queen?!" she shouts, grinning wickedly. He obliges, sauntering over to the grass to find a few spare daisies.

"What's all this for?" you ask, genuinely curious to her plans. She doesn’t answer you as she grabs you by the wrist, dragging you over to the sandbox.

A few minutes later, Katsuki comes back with a handful of daisies, picked and pruned clean of any dirt and weeds. Izuku stands on the edge of the sandbox patiently.

”Perfect! Katsu, Sissy, please approach your queen.”

You play along and stand in front of her with Katsuki. It’s amusing how small she is in comparison to the two of you, easily shadowing over her figure.

“With my knight as witness, I give the blessing to the princess and royal guard to be married forever!” she exclaims, waving her hands around to mimic casting a magic spell.

You're pretty sure she got that line from a princess movie, but that doesn't make the sentiment any less adorable. You begin to chuckle to yourself, smiling ear to ear before turning toward Katsuki. You're expecting him to be disgusted, repulsed by something so sickly sweet, but are shocked to see him standing with the flowers outstretched in your direction. He's biting his bottom lip and avoiding eye contact by staring directly at your feet.

"H-here," he whispers meekly, pushing the flowers into your hands. You've never seen him so shy before - that's usually Izuku's demeanor. His unexpected affection makes your little heart flutter in your chest.

"Thank you 'Suki," is all you can muster up the courage to say, your mind running blank on the right thing to say. It's just an imaginary scenario...It's not real, not like you're actually marrying him. Katsuki exhales, turning his back to you to hide his strawberry colored cheeks.

"Now you're together forever!" you sister raves, dancing on her tip toes with satisfaction.

Maybe that was the moment she bound you two together with some unknown magical force, or it was a mere coincidence. The sappy part of your young brain believed in fairytales and chose to believe she was weaving your golden string to him, binding you two for life.

───

Leftovers - Middle School

”Yo, brats! Come eat already so I can get the hell outta here,” Katsuki called from your doorway. He’d come by with leftovers from his mom for you and your sister, since your own mom was working later that day. The two of you were still…friends? You weren’t sure. Being in seventh grade and all, he started acting like you weren’t cool enough for him. He did the same to Izuku, starting to ditch the two of you for other kids in class to hang out with at lunch or walk home with. Did it hurt your feelings? Absolutely. But you didn’t own him, he was allowed to have other friends, even if it did suck to see him less outside of class.

“Coming!” you called back, skipping down the hallway with your sister in tow. She happily ran into the entryway, hugging Katsuki by the waist. She was taller now, but still much smaller than him as a fourth grader.

“Hiya Katsu!” she gleamed up at him, rubbing her face against his uniform jacket.

He grunted, uncomfortable with her sudden affection and poking her in the forehead to release her grip. “Let go, squirt!”

He turned his attention to you as your sister finally let go of him. “Here, take these. I gotta get to practice.”

”Thank you! Tell your mom we said hi.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You hand the containers to your sister as she wanders off to the table. Before Katsuki opens the door, you tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?”

He scoffs at your question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem distant lately. Wanna come by sometime for a movie marathon?” you ask, tilting your head and giving him a warm smile.

“We’re not kids anymore. Got better stuff to do.”

Ouch, that stung. Your smile fades away as you reply. “Well…I know. I just miss hanging out with you.”

“You have Deku an’ that other group of bitches you hang out with, ya don’t need me.” His harsh comment has notes of jealousy intertwined in his words. He goes to put his hand on the door again before you take a step forward to stop him.

“Kat, they’re not a replacement for you. You’ve got your own friends now, too since you’re on the soccer team. You’re saying we can’t hang out 'cause we have different friends?”

He glares at you before pushing past you and pulling on the front door.

“Hey!” your sister shouts from the dining area. “Katsu, that’s not nice. My royal guard doesn't act like that!” She’s always thought of Katsuki as a guard since your elementary school playground days.

“Cut the shit! We’re not kids anymore!” Katsuki rebuttals with a growl of frustration.

He makes eye contact with you. “We’ve grown apart, end of fuckin’ story. Get over it.”

He slams your front door closed and leaves you standing in the entryway, your eyes stinging from the urge to cry. You feel a small gust of wind rush by as your sister is sprinting to the door, throwing it open and running outside without shoes on.

“Hey!” She calls after Katsuki. “Get your butt back here, Katsu!”

He turns on his heel. “Hah?!”

She stomps on the ground, fists balled at her sides. “Apologize to her!”

Katsuki cackles, a little too manically. “For what, brat?”

“You’re being a mean jerk to her! She doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like that. Friends are friends forever, idiot!” she yells, her cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched together.

You can’t help but stifle a laugh at her calling Katsuki an idiot and turn your head to hide your amusement.

”That’s not who you are, Katsu. That’s not how you treat your princess!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut in annoyance, exhaling dramatically. He locks his gaze on you, storming back up to the doorway. He roughly ruffles your sister’s hair as he passes by her as a pseudo apology. Katsuki sucks the air through his teeth and shoves his fists in his pockets as he stops in front of you.

“Look, ‘m sorry for yellin’, okay?” he sighs, kicking a foot against the pavement. “I'll come over Saturday, we’ll have that movie day ya wanted.”

"You don't need to if you feel forced to hang out with me." Your eyes shift to your feet to avoid looking at his reaction.

" 's fine. I'll be here at noon, don't pick anything lame."

With that, he turns to leave for a second time in silence. You watch him disappear around the corner and can't help but feel like a burden for asking him to make time for you. As if reading your mind, your sister shakes you out of the negative train of thought while walking back to the house.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just being a dumb boy. That’s what my teacher says when boys are mean for no reason.” She grins a toothy smile up at you and grabs your hand. “Come on! Foods getting cold!”

Katsuki rounded the corner and waited to be out of sight before palming his face in anger. He had no idea why he said those things to you. None of it was true, especially that you’d grown apart. If anything, he was jealous of your friends and missed seeing you all the time. But he couldn’t bring himself to say so, like always. Ever since middle school started, he’d harbored some unknown rage inside of him that lashed out every chance it could. He hated it and didn’t know what to do to stop it - hence trying out for the soccer team, looking for an outlet for the pent up emotions in his body.

Katsuki secretly hoped you wouldn’t end up despising him for it. Even after all this time, he still thinks of you whenever he sees a patch of daisies.

Maybe one day he’d be brave enough to tell you about it.

───

Running Late - High School

The front door to your home opens as Katsuki slips inside, kicking his loafers off by the door. Your younger sister peaks over the kitchen counter while spreading jam over her toast and nods in his direction.

"Hey Katsu, pretty sure she's still asleep upstairs," she calls, rolling her eyes. "I tried to get her up three times, maybe you'll have better luck."

It was hard to believe that she was already in her freshmen year of high school - shit, it’s crazy that you and Katsuki were seniors. The age of playground days and summer adventures went by in the blink of an eye.

He makes his way to the kitchen island, leaning over to ruffle your sister’s hair - some things never change.

"Thanks, bean. I'll get her ass movin’."

“Stooop! You’ll mess up my hair!” She whines as she pulls away, fixing a few stray pieces of her fluffy mane.

“Ya look fine, don’t sweat it,” he compliments while heading for the staircase. He makes his way to your bedroom on the second floor. The door is surprisingly cracked open - he taps on the doorframe to grab your attention.

“Come in,” you call, lying on your bed facing the wall above the covers while scrolling on your phone. You presume it’s your sister until a soft kiss is planted on your cheek.

“Mornin’ sweets,” Katsuki whispers, rubbing your shoulder to turn you to face him. He sits on the edge of your bed beside you. “You wanna be late for our last first day of high school?”

You shift to sit up and drop your phone to your bed, reaching to cradle his face in your hands.

“No, I just wanted to steal a few kisses first,” you mumble as your lips quietly meet his. Katsuki places one hand on your cheek while the other lightly grazes your back. After a few moments, the two of you part with a soft smack. You stand and straighten up your uniform skirt, flattening a few of the panels to work out any stray creases.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, spinning around for Katsuki and showing off your uniform. Your hair was pulled into a pretty ponytail with a few pieces framing your face. The only make up you had on was some lip gloss - you valued sleeping in over doing a minimalist makeup look today.

“Y’always look good,” he sighs, standing to his feet. “Let’s get movin’ before bean suspects somethin’.”

You hadn’t told your sister about your relationship with Katsuki. Sure, you guys had been friends since you were children and he’s always around…how would she know the difference?

The two of you patter down the hallway and skip down the stairs to the kitchen. Your sister is waiting for the two of you, arms crossed and tapping one foot impatiently.

“Finally! Get your damn shoes on,” she orders while pushing you toward the door. She does a double take at Katsuki while you’re putting on your shoes, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Katsu…are you wearing lipgloss?”

Oops.

Katsuki’s searching for something to say as his face glows scarlet. He puts a hand on the back of his neck and turns away, grumbling while attempting to hide his embarrassment.

“Oh come on, you two. I knew you guys started dating months ago. You think I didn’t notice?”

You spin around to face her, cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched. “You never said anything?!”

She laughs, walking up to Katsuki and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“If you ever hurt her, Katsuki, I’ll knock your lights out. I know where you sleep,” she threatens, grinning mischievously. Katsuki pulls her into a headlock, ruffling her hair a second time.

“Deal, but I plan on stayin’ alive.” He lets her go, chuckling as he smooths out the pieces of hair he messed with.

Seeing the two of them get along never fails to make your heart swell with joy. Katsuki has always treated her like his own sister - one that he could easily give back at the end of every day, anyways.

She turns with a huff with her hands in the air.

“You both have my blessing, you should know that. I didn’t marry you two in a sandbox for nothing!”

───

Today Was A Fairytale - Current Day

“It’s an honor to be doing this for a second time. You’re in luck, my vocabulary has grown exponentially since our sandbox days.”

There’s a wave of laughter through the crowd at your sister’s lighthearted joke. You can’t help but smile as Katsuki’s fingers dance across the back of your hand to regather your attention.

God, he looks so damn handsome in that tux. His usual wild hair is slicked back and tamed - an extremely rare sight. Carmine eyes stare back at you, full of devotion and excitement for this next chapter in your fairytale.

“By the power vested in me, and these people as my witness, I pronounce you two as king and queen of the kingdom!”

Friends and family alike cheer and whistle as you and Katsuki intertwine, kissing each other for the first time as husband and wife. He spins you around and dips you low, kissing the tip of your nose playfully.

“I love you,” he mouths, a silent profession of adoration - reserved just for you.

The two of you strut down the aisle to the dance floor in the reception hall, the DJ already queuing the first dance song. Katsuki gently tugs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him as he begins to sway side to side when the music begins to fill the room. You rest your head against his chest and get lost in the moment.

Right now, the world belongs to the two of you. Every worry, struggle, and hardship is stripped away from your lives to give you the peace you deserve.

There’s one thought that lingers in your mind as you catch a glimpse of your teary-eyed sister watching you from the corner of the dance floor, latched onto Izuku’s arm for support.

She tied that golden string with an unbreakable knot.

tags 💥 @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon

[jetii]

The Possibility of Infinity

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader / Tech x Jedi!Reader

Words: 3,028

Tags/Warnings: none, just a lot of softness

Summary: Tech finally has you back after all this time, and he's determined to let you know what that means to him.

A/N: Surprise! To celebrate 300 followers, here's my continuation of Infinite Possibilities of the Universe. I had some requests for more Tech and Sarad, and after I saw this lovely fanart from @a-cryptid-called-magetha yesterday, I was inspired to actually finish this ficlet. I have another part drafted with smut, but the tone is different enough that I wanted to keep them separate and post this first. 💙

The sun was shining, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers and grass and summer. The breeze was cool and gentle, and the sky was clear and blue, with a few wispy clouds drifting lazily across the horizon. Tech had never stopped to admire the view, and he supposed it was because he had never really thought about it.

But today was different. Today, he was seeing the world through new eyes. Today, everything seemed brighter, and more vivid, and more real.

Because today, Sarad was with him.

The first day after your return had been a blur. You had told him your story, and he had told you his. There had been tears, and laughter, and long conversations in the early hours of the morning. And, in between, there had been moments of silence, and of just being together. Of holding each other, and sharing in each other's presence, and finding comfort in the simple act of existing.

You had stayed close to him, as if afraid he would disappear. And he had understood the feeling, because he had been afraid of the same thing.

And, even now, even as he watched you walk next to him, and felt the warmth of your hand on his arm, it all felt a little unreal.

But the sunlight was bright, and the breeze was soft, and the stone was warm beneath his feet, and the world was in focus.

And Sarad was here, and she was smiling.

"This is a lovely spot," you commented as you came to a stop in front of the Archium. Tech had showed it to you yesterday, but you hadn't been in the mood to sit and enjoy the view. Today, you were more relaxed, and Tech was glad. You deserved a moment of peace.

"Yes," Tech agreed. "It is."

"I like the tree," you added, your hand trailing across the rough bark. "It's a weeping maya. I'd need to run a few tests to know for sure, but I believe it's at least two millenia old."

Tech's mouth twitched into a smile. He had known the species of the tree, but hearing it from you brought a new kind of joy. One that was warm, and sweet, and made him feel like his chest might burst. It was the kind of joy he had thought he'd lost forever. But here it was, and it was more beautiful than he had remembered.

"Are you sure?" he teased, his fingers grazing yours over the bark. "Maybe I should take a look."

You laughed, a light, musical sound that made his heart swell.

"I think you'll find that my expertise outweighs yours in this area," you replied, your eyes sparkling. "But if you're not convinced, we can always get a second opinion."

"I wouldn't dare," he chuckled, his hand settling on your waist. "Your word is the only one I trust."

"Flatterer," you accused, but there was no bite to the words.

"I simply speak the truth," he said, his smile widening.

You rolled your eyes, and the motion was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that his throat tightened, and his words faded.

Hearing your laughter, and watching you smile, and feeling your presence at his side...it was almost overwhelming. He had dreamed of this moment, but his imagination had never been able to capture the way his heart felt when you were close. The way his chest seemed to expand, and his mind grew lighter, and the world seemed brighter. 

You seemed to sense his sudden change in mood, because your smile faded, and you turned to him, your expression soft and worried. "Tech? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he murmured, his voice low. "Just...happy."

"Oh, love," you whispered, your hands moving to cup his cheeks. "It's going to be alright."

"I know." He swallowed thickly and dipped his head, avoiding your gaze. "I seem to be having trouble accepting it. That you're here. That this is real."

"I understand," you said softly. "But I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

"I believe you," he replied, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm just..."

"Overwhelmed?" you supplied.

"Yes." Tech sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Overwhelmed."

"That's alright," you said, your hands sliding down to his neck, your fingers trailing along his jaw. "Take all the time you need."

He smiled, and leaned into your touch. You were so patient, and so understanding, and so gentle. You knew exactly what to say, and how to make him feel better. He didn't deserve you, and yet, here you were. You were the most precious thing in his life, and he vowed to never let you go again. He had already spent so much time apart from you. He couldn't bear to waste another moment.

"My apologies," he murmured, his gaze dropping back to the ground. "I didn't mean to ruin the moment."

"You didn't," you assured him, and the sincerity in your voice was almost enough to make him tear up. "There will be plenty of moments, Tech. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."

"It's nothing," you said, your thumbs tracing circles on his cheeks. They were light, and tender, and reassuring. "It's just what we do for the people we love."

His breath caught, and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he swallowed thickly, trying to find the words.

"Sarad..."

"Yes?" you prompted, your voice soft and expectant.

"I love you," he managed, his voice strained.

"I love you, too," you murmured, and the corners of your lips tugged upwards. "Always."

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from his body. His heart was pounding, but he didn't mind. It was a reminder that he was alive, and that you were here, and that the universe had brought you together once more.

"Are you alright?" you asked, your voice quiet.

"Yes," he replied. "I am now."

Your smile widened, and you pushed yourself onto your toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips. It was brief, and soft, and perfect, and when you drew back, your eyes were shining.

"Go on," Tech encouraged, nodding towards the tree. "I know you've been waiting for the chance to study it."

You grinned, and he felt his own smile widen. You were radiant, and beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to capture the moment in his memory. He hesitated a moment before activating the recording device on his goggles. 

The images recorded by the device were a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was something. And, even though he knew that you wouldn't be going anywhere, and that he would have countless other opportunities to see you smile, Tech didn't want to miss this.

"Are you recording me?" you asked, though you knew the answer already. He could see it in the amusement dancing across your features.

"Yes," he replied, his voice soft. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," you said, giving him a sly grin. "Just don't share it with anyone. I'm not looking my best."

"Nonsense," he countered, his hands curling around yours. "You're as coruscating as the stars."

You snorted, but didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned in, your nose brushing against his, and your breath tickling his lips.

"You're biased," you teased, your eyes meeting his. Tech felt his breath catch in his throat, and he swallowed thickly, his pulse quickening. Your proximity was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but wonder if you were doing it on purpose. But then again, it didn't matter. He wasn't complaining. Not when he was this close to you.

"Perhaps," he allowed, his voice low and husky. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

You hummed, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine, and then you were kissing him, and his mind went blank. He didn't know how long the kiss lasted, but when you pulled away, he was breathless, and his knees were weak.

"What was that for?" he asked, his voice unsteady.

"No reason," you said, a sly grin spreading across your lips. "Now, can I borrow your scanner? I'd like to get a closer look at the blossoms."

"Of course," he replied, handing you the device. He was a bit dazed, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts. You didn't seem to mind, though, and he watched as you turned your attention to the tree, running your hand over the bark and muttering to yourself. 

He leaned against the trunk, content to simply watch you. There would be time for questions later, and for explanations. But for now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment. He wanted to soak in every detail, and memorize every line of your face, and commit every sound and sensation to memory. He didn't know if he would ever feel this way again, and he wanted to savor it.

He had hoped for so long, and waited for so long, and missed you so much. But now, here you were, and his heart was full. It was a strange sensation, and it took him a while to identify it. Happiness. Joy. Peace. Hope. Things he hadn't thought he would feel again. But here, in this moment, with the sun warming his skin, and the breeze rustling the leaves, and the woman he loved by his side, he felt them.

You suddenly leaped upward into the air, using the Force to vault yourself off a nearby root. 

Tech blinked, startled, and then laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, the tears starting to sting his eyes forgotten. He looked up and watched as you grabbed hold of a branch and swung yourself onto it, balancing easily on the limb.

"This is amazing," you called down to him, gesturing at the tree. "I've never seen one of these with white blossoms."

Tech smiled, and his hand instinctively reached for the datapad in his pocket.

"Would you like a copy of the information I have on them?"

You pulled away from the trunk and peered down at him, your hair glinting in the sunlight. Your smile was radiant, and his breath caught in his throat. You were so beautiful. And he was so lucky.

"Please," you replied, and the delight in your voice made his heart ache. "And, if it's not too much trouble, could you include whatever you have on the soil composition of the area? I'd love to see if there's a correlation between the environment and the color variation."

"How do you know the information I have will include that?"

"Because I know you," you laughed. "And I know how meticulous you are. If there's anything you don't have, I'll come back to take some samples."

"That will not be necessary," he admitted with a wry grin. He pulled the datapad from his pocket, and began typing quickly, his fingers flying over the keys. A few moments later, the data packet had been transmitted to you, and he looked up to see you examining the results.

"Thank you," you said with a bright grin. "You're the best, Tech."

"You are very welcome," he replied, unable to keep the smile from his face. You were so enthusiastic, and curious, and full of life, and he felt his heart swell with pride and love.

"Care to join me up here?" you asked as you dropped into a seat on the branch.

"I'm afraid I would not fare as well as you," he answered, eyeing the height of your position with apprehension.

"Please?" you pout, extending a hand towards him.

"Sarad," he protested weakly, knowing full well he had lost the battle.

"Pretty please?"

"Fine," he sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He pocketed his datapad and pushed himself off the trunk before he reached out and grabbed the nearest branch, pulling himself up.

The tree was large, and the branches were thick, and he didn't have much difficulty maneuvering himself up to where you were seated. When he reached your level, you leaned over and kissed his cheek, a gesture that had his heart stuttering in his chest.

You were sitting cross-legged on the branch, and you shifted over to make room for him. He sat down, his back against the trunk to steady himself, and he let one of his legs swing down, while the other remained bent at the knee. You settled in next to him, and his arm automatically wrapped around you, pulling you close.

"So, what do you think?" he asked as his hand idly traced patterns on your back.

"It's beautiful," you replied, your gaze fixed on the horizon. You leaned into his touch, and he couldn't help but smile. "I could stay here forever."

"That can be arranged," he murmured, his voice soft.

"Really?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"Yes," he said, his lips quirking into a smile. "We could set up a lab, and a greenhouse, and a small garden. We could build a home here. It wouldn't be difficult."

"A home," you repeated with wide eyes. "You would do that? For me?"

"Sarad, I would do anything for you." 

He meant it, and he could see the effect his words had on you. "I would build a thousand homes for you, if that was what you wanted. I would travel to the farthest corners of the galaxy, and I would search for a thousand years, if it meant I could spend a thousand days with you."

"Tech," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I'm serious," he said earnestly. "I have never been more certain of anything in my life."

"But what about your family? The war? All of this..." You trailed off, gesturing to the village around you. "You can't just leave it all behind."

"They would understand," he said. "They are a part of me, but they are not my only family. And, as for the war, I think I've done my part. I have seen enough, and lost enough, and suffered enough. And, now that I have found you, I cannot bear to be apart from you again. So, please, if this is what you want, I will do it. I will leave everything behind, and build a new life with you. Here, or elsewhere. Wherever you wish to go. Just tell me."

You stared at him, and the emotions swirling in your eyes were impossible to name, but he felt them all. And, when you spoke, your voice was thick with tears. "You really mean that."

"Yes," he said. He reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "I will not lose you again."

You smiled, your eyes shining, and his heart ached at the sight.

"I—" You swallowed thickly, your lower lip quivering. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he said as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Just...consider it. I won't press the issue if you're not ready."

"I am," you said quickly. "Ready, I mean."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. "I'm sure. I've missed you so much, Tech. And I don't want to spend another day without you."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. You clung to him, and he felt your tears dampen his shirt, but he didn't mind. He simply held you, and soothed you, and stroked your hair, and let you cry. He knew you needed it more than you would admit, and he would gladly give you whatever you needed.

"Then it's settled," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We'll build a home. Just for the two of us."

"Tech, I..." Your voice trailed off, and you took a deep breath, composing yourself. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too, Sarad," he murmured.

"But are you sure this is what you want?" you asked. "A life with me?"

"Yes," he replied, without hesitation.

"You're not...you're not just saying that because you think it's what I want?"

"No," he assured you, his hands coming up to cup your face. "I am saying it because it's what I want. Because it's what I've always wanted. Even before I knew it was possible."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said softly. "I have never been more sure of anything."

Your breath hitched, and your eyes were glassy with unshed tears. You bit your lip, and Tech knew that you were trying to hold them back. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the moisture. He felt a tear slip down his own, and you reached up to wipe it away. Your hands lingered, cupping his face, and your thumbs traced gentle circles on his cheeks.

"Then let's do it," you said, your voice wavering. "Let's build a home. Here, or anywhere else. I don't care. Just...just promise me we'll never be apart again."

"Never," he whispered.

"I can't believe it," you laughed, the sound half-sob, half-delight. "It's really going to happen. We're really going to be together."

"Yes," he murmured, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "We are."

You exhaled slowly, a long, shaky breath, and then you closed your eyes, and rested your head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you close, letting his chin come to rest on the top of your head as you breathed together.

The sun was warm, and the breeze was cool, and the scent of flowers filled the air. And he was here, with you. With the woman he loved, the one who had given him so much hope, and shown him a life he had never imagined. The one who had given him the stars, and the possibility of infinity, and the chance to be happy.

Taglist (also tagged some people who mentioned a sequel): @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @kindalonleystars

@cw80831 @qvnthesia @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak @lovelytech9902

@frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @Puppetscenario @umekohiganbana

@resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild

@ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster

@lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777 @schrodingersraven

@floofyroro @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy

[druidrot]

Okay 1 and 13 from the sultry prompts list feel VERY Gale to me, if that inspires you at all!

Your honor, based on provided evidence the jury has come to the conclusion that Gale Dekarios is indeed guilty of being a munch. Not actual smut but like pretty damn suggestive. It borders on it. It’s dirty. Don’t talk to me 😭😭

Real talk I’m sorry this has sat in my drafts for so long. Anon, you deserve better but work has been draining lately and tonight for some reason was the night my mind decided to work. Anyways muah i love u thank u for requesting, i hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Gale Dekarios x Reader

Prompts:

1. A kiss to the thigh

13. You are constantly finding new ways to surprise me.

Rating: Explicit - MDNI

warnings: foreplay, like lots of it. this came out a lil worship-y but gale is a fucking loser and I’m so weak to that shit. i say that with the most love but 😭😭. allusions to good ole’ cunillingus babey!

unsure of the word count

Gale takes his time tonight.

There is no urgency in his actions, no desperation–just pure, unadulterated adoration. His hands are gentle against your skin, soft, like too much pressure might shatter you like glass. He is resolute though, driven, unyielding in the face of his desire for you. He knows exactly how to touch you; he knows exactly where to touch you. It's like your body was made to be known by him, to be loved by him.

You sit comfortably in the big armchair he has nestled in his study, legs spread wide to accommodate his frame. He is kneeled before you like a man devoted; like a man pious, besotted and yearning for you . He looks so very hungry when he turns his gaze up to meet yours, though his smile is soft, beckoning, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You answer his smile with one of your own, smoothing a hand through his hair as he begins to creep his hands under your dressing gown.

"I will never tire of this," he murmurs, reverent, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your knee. "I will always be starved for you, my star. I will never have enough; there will never be enough to satiate the hunger you inspire.”

You can’t help the silly, lovesick grin that pulls at your lips. To you, he is breathtaking in his want for you, unabashed and proud. You love the way he loves you, so fully, so complete, like this is what the two of you were made to do together. It is intense, all-encompassing, makes your insides twist and turn.

“You spoil me rotten,” you whisper, all sweet smile laced with heavy-handed desire. “I burn for you, Mr. Dekarios. You make me ache.”

He offers a punched-out sound, a chuckle, and his molten eyes darken in the heat of his want. His kisses grow heavy, then, hot where they land on your skin, teasing where they trail up and up and up…

“You are my renewal and ruin all at once,” he breathes, sticky with need. “I am lost to you, my darling. Eternally lost to you.”

You mewl, tangling your fingers in his chestnut hair. “Show me, my love. Show me how you love me.”

He grins a wickedly handsome smile, pressing another hard kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh. He bites down gently, teasingly, basking in the sultry moan that rumbles in your chest.

“Gale,” you urge, pleadingly. ���Let me see how lost you are. Let me see what I do to you.”

He squeezes the flesh of your opposite thigh, tongue laving over the little indents his teeth left in your skin. His eyes are sharp, heavy with lust, and you think you might drown in their depths forever.

“How desperate you are,” he teases, hands now moving to push the fabric at your hips up higher and higher. You can only sink further into his touch as his intentions become clear.

“You are constantly finding new ways to surprise me,” he muses, eyes locked on your pleading gaze. “I sometimes forget how eager you are to have me. But no matter, my star. I will happily oblige your desire to be tasted.”

You can only gasp, body pliant, mind foggy, already drunk on him as you surrender to the heat of his mouth.

[joannasteez]

"im with you" - installment two

featured characters: mother's milk & female reader. warnings: alcohol usage (misuse) and angst. MM being his supportive, caring self. mutual pining? (kinda) authors note: this second installment has been sitting in my drafts since the release of season three, so over a year maybe? i don't see myself progressing the story (sorry?) but i was tired of seeing this in the drafts. so i give it to you all who wish to read it!

You hate 'The Reserve', not just for its sordid means of molding into fruition false delusions of grandeur, but because it is also a reflection. A mirror, smudged and stained, bitter callousness webbing sharply from the heart of it, mangling its way to the furthest reaches, but a mirror all the same. And when the sun wanes low into the horizon, that bombastic need for liquid comfort livening up the bar, in the solace of yourself you say 'I am not like these people; degenerate drunks and reckless hedonist, bleeding the poison of a heartless raging machine who thinks them too low to even consider their existence. I am not like the super-abled, I am better'. The hatred is beautiful enough in those times, consistent enough that it waters the dust and forms thought into palpable word. Then where is this mantra now? As the weeks grow colder, air nipping sporadic bites into the skin, lethargy soothing something still and lukewarm into your veins.

Grief is loud, 'where is your mantra now?', and your need for comfort is as bombastic as theres.

On this unsteady line of desire, here must be where the attraction falls short for him. Clips its wings, falling from on high.

'He sees you', the brandy says, auburn and taunting. 'He pity's you'.

All those years ago when the ache was new, splitting raw and lethal at your chest, you're almost sure it was pity that drew him in, that made him linger. It had to be, or that's what the sluggish, drunken part of you thinks, the part that takes comfort in dark hard spirits and makes you believe all the untrue shit that stains the foreverness of wayward esteem and memory. But sipping from the bottle is good, it's easy, feeling like a drizzle of fresh rain on the skin. The burn goes dull after while, when the sky bleeds something angry and orange,  leaving just the smooth glide down the path of your throat, and when your eyes shut to escape the welling of tears, you hear that everlasting crunch of metal.

It's a hard piercing, that cringing screech and scratch of metal etching into itself, the friction tearing into flesh and bone, and just mere seconds remain before the face that shares your own fades into something distant and lifeless.

Twins, a true phenomenon, and yet as you stare into the bottle, it all feels false and unnatural, like retribution. Something beautiful and different, worth no more to the state than a cover up story and a check for $75,000.

She was worth more. She deserved more, true justice, and yet here you are wasting away, your stomach a pool of brandy.

Like clockwork your phone vibrates. 'Here comes the pity', you think.

--How you holdin' up?

His wonder is a grey text bubble, nothing more than routine and after several years still its consistent. Maybe that's why desire has etched into your skin so, a slow gradual drag into nerve, entangled to the pulse of your veins, because at least some semblance of him cares. Even if it is all just obligation, when others stopped their award wining performances of sympathy, he'd still roll around in the early cool of October asking 'Are you holding up?', and 'How are you doing?'

The tears and liquor screw your senses well, fingers slipping over some of the right keys and missing others. It takes a while to gather thought, and even then it's driven by lies and poor motor skills.

--Mi fi.

--Im fie.

--Fire*.

--Fuk Im fine*.

--Fuck*.

The disappointment is palpable, heavy on the tongue and an uncomfortable warmth to the skin. You know it, can picture the way those brows of his pull together, mouth screwed and on the verge of disgusted. Well fuck him, if he thinks you care, he isn't the one in pain, drowning in perpetual heartbreak. Saturated to the bone with it really and its ripping at you slow and dreadful, a vicious tear of tissue and vessel. And God-- but...but doesn't he know? No, no, no he has to, he's suffered similar... but it's not the same... but it is, you stress to yourself, it has to be... but it isn't, and the tears taste more salty as they come. An aged bitterness that makes you wince.

--... are you drunk?

You keep him suspended, seconds, minutes even.

--No

--A but,, Im ok.

--A bit but Im ok*.

He's quick to reply.

--Where are you?

He waits, with a staling patience just at the top floor of the flatiron building, where the city bustles and groans, exhausted and restless. In just a few measly minutes, still nerve goes erratic with impatience and then comes the hammering of his pulse.

You're drunk and alone, drowning in the memory of shitty circumstance. His chest aches in that familiarity-- Harlem and a blazing summer sun, the hard blow of barely cool air, a child's excitement and then the coming in of doom, Soldier Boy, and then the swooshing in and fatal crunch of metal-- the ache a vicious sting. Growing nails make slight indents in his skin, fingers coming into his palm, to ball and harden, to feel and never to forget.

He was lonely then, just a wild vengeance to keep him company.

Marvin moves before he can think, leaves, turns the key in his ignition and joins the hard rush of the city before resolution melts loose and hesitant.

Your Brooklyn apartment is old, as old as the house he loved destroyed by the hurling in of a benz, and as he breathes, alleviating the hard brick of tension in his shoulders, he understands why he's here. Why-- in the most inconveniencing of times-- he thinks about you. Why desire, a fervent stream in his blood, has become more ungovernable by the day. You are new but familiar. Soft and alluring but recognizable to the bone, a reflection of pain and survival that wholly scares him and excites him just the same.

When the door opens, it's the petulant embrace that catches him first, the bottle of brandy nestled in your palm, but the smell curls about the air bitter and heavy, unsullied by shame. Even in the most dismal affair, your eyes are blood-shot, daring him to go beyond whatever is shy and lingering, a plead to make the pain go away. To call out the itching twitch in his skin by name and validate its presence.

"What?", you start, feeling his eyes. The stony weight. "You're not gonna wish me happy birthday?"

"You're a mess".

You'd waited for this, hoped for it even, to have the burn and the break of desire collapse against you. For it to scorch flesh and that unrelenting part of the heart that says 'yes, i want him, need him', but it never comes. There is no fracture, even when he tears you open with concerned eyes, just the unreconcilable truth that if you are a mess, royally fucked up and drunk out of your mind, that you do not want to be. Not when or where he can see. Because there is no middle, no point at which allure and brokenness meet in a charming enough compromise... right? So this must be judgement then, 'you're a mess', the knocking in of the gavel.

The quiver to your lip is fragile. You are fragile. "If you're here to judge, you can fuck off".

The lone tear you give makes his heart squeeze. Maybe he shouldn't have led so strong, so exacting.  

He brushes in anyways, like a piece of him belongs here and steals the bottle from your fingers. Palms growing idle now, fearful, balling and releasing, grasping at air --like your whole being-- grasping at everything, anything and gaining nothing. Nothing but the soreness of muscle once bent about glass fighting for strength, for the will to straighten. All there is, is the leaning in of silence, as he cracks the windows for a fresh breeze, a hard press that leaves you scorching and loose with a raw bare boned awareness. The mantle of your belly churning and awakened with a sullen impatience to hear his words, the charge of his thoughts.

Wont he do it now?

"Just say it already", knotting pain in your throat leaving your urgency dry. Brittle. "Whatever straight laced bullshit speech you got about effective coping, and-and-and pain... and whatever the fuck".  The new air is chilling, makes the grate of your voice wane and shiver. "Just say it".

He's next to you, sinking into the couch, and it's the closest he's ever been. "What's the point of preachin' shit you don't practice".

"Drinking isn't effective coping but tearing through the city, through the damn country, offing supes left and right with Butcher is?"

You were both wrong, but so terribly right. The through-line of your lives, just narrowly escaping death, broken already but always seeming still to be on the precipice of breaking.

For some time there's nothing, no word or deed, and then, there's everything. A delirious unearthing, barbarous and desperate. 'Look at me, understand me, please', fragile, on the borders of begging. "I never meant to drink so much, it-it just happened I-", your tongue goes lax and dry from temporary thoughtlessness or the swimming and draining of liquor in your veins, you aren't sure. "I don't even like the taste but June she... she made it a thing. Our thing".

You look to him, and see through the blur of your vision, the forming together of intent and attention. No crease of pity, just tenderness and patience, without blame. Just understanding.

And then it's here, nostalgia, a wistful coming together again of memory. "My father liked to have his taste every now and then y'know... a little sip just to feel some shit I guess", you start. A finger pulling at and curling into another. "So he'd hide little bottles of brandy around the house. A stash here, stash there, but he'd always end up forgetting. He had shitty memory that way... still does", the knot in your throat grew, forming a choking sensation. "But June would find them  and re-stash them, so when our birthday came around we'd sip and get shitfaced together".

You can feel the build, a hard rushing in, the levee soon to break. "We both hated the taste, but we were doing stupid shit together and thats all that mattered".

She comes clearly in your minds eye, a replica yet different. Glassy eyes dazzled by the soft burning away of innocence. The liquor is strong on her tongue, makes her touch something tight to the skin, a holding on to that bites but comforts all the same, and the air is pungent. Rife with rebellion. In the shared bedroom of an old family owned Brooklyn Brownstone, the world opens, teems founded and un-conforming with the blazing of this single moment. Oh sister, my sister. She was your mirror, your opposite. Everything. "She was just here my whole life and now she's gone. What thing am I supposed to have that I can touch, that-that-that I can feel other than this, other than our thing".

Something in Marvin wonders, if he reaches out, forms you with his hands, will you take him in or stretch away? Will you break? Shatter into a fragmented loathing because he is not her. And there is the curt twitching in his finger, he feigns for the answer.

"You never told me that".

You laugh, mirthless and ironic. "I never told anybody because I feel like a fucking joke. I speech those kids to death almost every damn day, about being present and making room, growing in grief and look at me." Your head feels full and heavy, a sharp pounding meeting just at the forefront of your skull. "I didn't even have the fight to do anything about it. They took her away from me and I just let that shit fade. I let her go Marvin, me".

He pulls at your chin softly to face him, smearing away a lonely rolling tear. From here, just inches away, everything about him is tender and warm. But if you lean further into him, will he pull you in?, or will the comfort of his touch fall away?

It travels instead, holding firm at your shoulders. His eyes settling light and easy.

"You wanna go all Rambo with the shit, and find out what happened, I'm with you 100%, but what happened to June isn't on you, its not".

The brandy on your tongue wears old, the solace of it going stale.

'I'm with you'

His embrace is a furnace, a delicate purging. A new opening of the world.

"Thank you Marvin".

[bee-the-loser]

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₊ ⊹☼ Pairing: The8/Xu Minghao x reader ₊ ⊹☼ Synopsis: Multiple chance encounters across lives, with a soul somehow fated to yours throughout ₊ ⊹☼ Genre: Reincarnation au, slight fantasy/historic au ₊ ⊹☼ Word count: 1.67k ₊ ⊹☼ Warnings: Mentions of death, loss and grief. Minor character death mentions ₊ ⊹☼ A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while as I didn't feel that the story was done yet. However, it's at a good point right now to post. Maybe I'll return to add to it further at one point though.

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Loss is an emptiness that eats away at the soul, a metaphorical knife carving it’s design on the surface but leaving behind wounds deep enough to bleed. And the strange thing about loss is you let it. In a sense it’s a sickly beautiful thing to experience as the blood pours out staining over the pure memories and taints them to be forever red. A crimson red that’s the same as the heart that somehow still beats inside your chest, because while it feels like everything should be still, time moves on. Time still encourages hearts to beat and wounds to bleed.

And bleed they do…

Your first loss shouldn’t be considered that actually. There are so many factors that completely contradict it as “the first loss you experienced”. For a start, you had lost people before. A woman who never had the chance to be a mother, your mother, passing away before she got even a second with her child. A young boy, who once you considered a brother, starved under the night sky with his eyes locked onto the moon. After all, Grief was no stranger to your soul. He visited often and settled in your bones like a heavy sick reminder of life.

No, none of these was your first loss. A kind of deep grief, yes, but they felt inevitable somehow.

Your first loss came in a form you never expected. A loss of opportunity and the questions of what could have been. Leaving the first scar of many dotted over your skin.

You didn’t know his name the first time, you barely got to know him at all actually. It was a fleeting moment that stopped the world if just for a second. Even if it was just for you.

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The makeshift grave you created when Chan died was positioned out in a forest glade on the edge of town, giving him the privacy and peace he deserved. An ideal place for him to continue watching the night sky like he did when he was tangible, and now as a star, a place for him to look down on from above. It seems childish now thinking that was how the world worked, that he would stick around for you.

You know better now.

You had been spending the afternoon visiting him, after collecting flowers for your little stall, coming to rest up in the willow tree sheltering the glade from the outside view. The branches allowing you a raised position to look down below, which is how you spotted him initially. This dark haired beauty dressed in clothes that didn’t seem typical for that of normal adventurers. You assumed that’s what he must be, no one else tends to come out that far. Somehow, he had stumbled onto Chan’s clearing though, only the fates may know how, and came to a pause in front of the poorly carved headstone you placed on the first death anniversary. It didn’t matter that there was no body to bury, his memory would live on.

Something about that resonated in this figure’s mind. It wasn’t obvious at first but moments later when you got the first glimpse at his soul-bearing eyes and the way they scanned the words told you all you needed. He was memorising the words, breathing out his very essence into the world and immortalising this time. The phrase you had heard many times before bringing tears to your eyes as it was spoken out loud after a year again.

“The moon sure is lonely tonight”. He was just reading out loud that time, but maybe that’s why it left such an impact. There were no deeper connotations or commitments that suffocated the moment. It was raw and real.

If given the chance of every lifetime, you would chose to return to this moment eternally.

He left not long after that with a new print on his soul in the name of Lee Chan and the fleeting thoughts of a phrase once whispered. It wasn’t until afterwards that you saw the carefully placed bundle of forget-me-nots. Flowers that symbolise memorises and the concept of thinking of loved one ones while one is away. You don’t remember ever have crying as hard as you did that night as you allowed yourself to break down after having repressed everything for a long time. The hope that someone else would continue to think of the young boy and maybe one day return providing a sort of comfort you never realised you needed.

You continued with your routines and visits but never once saw the stranger again. Your first loss came unexpectedly and you couldn’t help but think of what could have happened if things were different. Had Chan been alive to greet him? Had you spoken out to him? Had you got to know him? But you didn’t and so the opportunity passed by and life continued until death came to claim you too.

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What you didn’t expect was the life that came after and the memories that flickered back to you slowly. You could remember it all clearly at first but the more time progressed and lives were lived, the hazier things became. So you wrote to remember. Diary entries inked across pages depicting and detailing each moment and connection you continued to share.

It took you a total of three lives to realise you and your stranger were somehow connected. You seemed destined to spot him under the moonlight over and over again, each time bringing something new for you to note.

However, it was your fourth life that something truly changed, with an opportunity for the two of you to introduce yourselves. A night-time balcony overlooking the palace gardens providing a shared relief from the noise of the party inside. You had yet to see your stranger that lifetime and you certainly weren’t expecting to find him approaching you from behind on his own escape from the ballroom.

Your eyes had found comfort in the solitude of the starlit sky, with a faint recollection of a young voice discussing constellations in great enthusiasm. Your body curled up onto the stone edge with the coldness contrasting to the heat radiating from the party inside. There had been no mention of the balcony being off limits but it seemed abandoned in that moment similar to how you felt. Maybe that is why when you heard the small thuds of footsteps approaching you assumed it was a guard coming to bring you inside. However, as you turned around to face them, your breath stalled inside your throat.

There he was…

Face to face, the moments that followed allowed you both to subtly scan each other’s figures, sharing a second of joint solitude. His clothes reflecting his obviously high social status, yet you naturally found yourself focusing on his deep, knowledgeable eyes. The ones that both equally haunted and comforted your thoughts. Then he spoke and his light voice rung out in a whisper like he was afraid to break the silence.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you, but I needed some time away from the chaos and couldn’t help but notice you out here alone with only the moon for company. You both seemed rather lonely tonight. Would you mind me joining you?”

The paraphrasing of the familiar line rang in your ears as you couldn’t help but tear up and turn back to the full moon in an attempt for comfort.

“Not at all, feel free to join us.”

His figure stepping closer as he approached the balcony edge himself and admired the view before the two of you. It was a comfortable silence that followed, neither of you feeling the need to fill it with meaningless chatter at first. However, as you turned to gain another glance at him, wanting to capture every detail for your writing later on, your gaze fell onto the baby blue flowers that lay in his pocket.

“Forget-me-nots?”

As he turned to meet your eyes, he saw the way they lingered onto his flowers and then noticed the similar ones decorated into your own outfit.

“Hmm, there is something special about the resilience of these little blossoms which bloom in clusters throughout marshy harsh terrain. In a sense I admire the way they manage to preserve and grow with those tough conditions. It’s something I often see reflected in humanity, although, unlike the flowers, not often do people manage to make it full bloom I find.”

The philosophical answer was not one you had expected from him, but certainly wasn’t unwelcome. You had your own greater meanings to the flowers that you shared back with careful consideration, still unsure of if your stranger retained his memories like you. It was something you noted in a previous life where you tried to speak to a different Chan and was left alone once more, that not everyone had the privilege, or was it a curse, to remember like you do.

“For me, they symbolise remembering those who once were but no longer are. A promise to keep the memories of them alive for as long as you live. The stories you experienced and the thoughts you shared allowing a part of them to stay.”

Silence settled back down between the two of you, which is why you could hear the song that started to play out by the band. A slow dance of sorts. In some twist of destiny, he reached his hand out and asked for your hand before the two of you spent time twirling across the balcony. This moment shared only by you two and the sky.

As you came to a close and the clocks chimed to signal an hour passing, with you settled in your stranger’s arms, two names were breathed out into the universe before you parted ways and he disappeared back into the ball.

“Xu Minghao.”

A name meaning brightness and vastness, one that seemed to fit the person you came to spend time with perfectly.

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[obsessive-ego]

Slumber party panic

Reader x musical Beetlejuice

Nsft

Reader has a vagina

Fic where a bunch of teens summon beetlejuice moments before the two of you are intimate

This has been in my drafts forever

...

It's been a long hard week, coworkers have been calling in sick back to back to back, leaving you to cover, so that ment longer shifts, and rougher days but such was retail, you tried not to let it get to you, and kept telling yourself the you'll treat yourself on payday.

Mentally you were fine, but it DID take a toll on you physically, you'd stumble home after a nine hour shift, being the only competent employee on that day, drop your bag, sit on the couch and just stare into space exhausted, leaving your coat on, for about an hour before you'd force yourself up and put something together to eat, at least that was how you'd spend time after work on the days you were alone.

On days beetlejuice 'graced you with his presence', the moment you stumble exhausted into your home the ghoul was already on you, with a summoned clone or two to help take away your coat and bag, and eagerly bringing you to the kitchen where a hot and ready meal was waiting for you, it was so sweet, and honestly the first time he did this for you, you cried, for a demon he was such a sweet boyfriend.

Which brings us to today, another week in the books, you had the next day off and were really looking forward to resting

"Ya know babes, it's been awhile since we made the sheets sing" beetlejuice pulled into his side as the two of you sat together on the couch ignoring the gameshow that had been providing background noise

"I know" you yawn

"So how bout I remind ya why you're with me to begin with?" He snorts out a laugh, pink hues beginning to pop in his hair

You chuckle "I'm not just dating you for your dick beej-"

"I know toots, you're hear for my rear too♡" he pushes nuzzling into you neck, a hand moving to your upper thigh, you give a soft laugh feeling the bubble of excitement begin to start up, but then you yawn again

"Am I boring you?" Beetlejuice chuckles, knowing damn well the week you've just survived

"Sorry Bee-" you start

"Forgetta bout it, why don't you let ol' mister beebleboose do all the work tonight? You deserve a treat for being such a big strong working breather, and come on babes, I gotta fulfill my end of the bargain, since I'm your trophy husband♡"

You give the ghoul a playful push, moving him off you "we're not married beej-"

Beetlejuice crawls up onto your lap, trapping you between him and the couch "not yet♡"

The idea of getting married to beetlejuice always gave you butterflies, you knew the drill with him, the dead marrying the living gave them another, or in Beetlejuice's case, his first shot at life.

"Well?" The demon snaps you out of your thoughts

"Well what?"

"Do you wanna be my pillow princess tonight?♡" he snickered knowing how you weren't too keen on the nickname

"I don't know beej, being called 'princess' isn't really a turn on-"

"Alright my pillow prince♡" he coos, pinching your cheek

You swat his hand away "I do miss being intimate with you-"

"Then its settled!" Beetlejuice scoops you up, his hair now magneta, buzzing with excitement "call me old fashioned toots, but as much as I love railing ya on the couch, I'd rather tonight we take it to the boudoir♡" The ghoul quickly carried you over his shoulder to your room, making sure to give your bum a pinch before dropping you on the bed.

"God slash satan I've been waiting all week for this" beetlejuice purrs, crawling up on the bed and leaning over you, his magenta hair buzzing and giving the room a romantic glow

"Me too" you sigh leaning up giving the demon a soft kiss, it's been a rough week, and to be honest you've been feeling guilty saying no to him every night, you wanted to as well, you just wanted sleep more.

Beetlejuice pushes you back down on the bed, breaking the kiss, not like him, normally you'd have to remind him you need air to live, but whatever

"You're wearing too much clothes, here, allow me♡" he chuckles before snapping his fingers, your clothes vanishing in thin air, aside from a simple pair of black panties.

The ghoul leans back taking a good look at your mostly naked form, even though he's seen you like this so many times, his lecherous stare always made you a tad shy.

"It's been too long" he groans loosing his tie

"It's only been a week" you try to sit up only to have the ghoul push you back down

"Time works different when you're dead, now close your eyes and give daddy some sugar" beetlejuice purrs leaning forward, his long striped tongue leading the way

You do as instructed, having no desire to be what some would call a brat, you close your eyes and lightly part your lips ready to start a much desired night of passion.

You waited for a second or two, yet nothing, you knew beetlejuice as an inpatient guy, especially when it came to being intimate, so you peak.

He was gone

"Beetlejuice?"

Nothing

"Beetlejuice?"

Still nothing

"Beetle-?" You stop half way, knowing he'd normally stop you before you got all three B words out, but he didn't come

Oh, he was messing with you

"Okay" you start breaking the B word chain, then it hits you, maybe he's gonna try that thing the two of you were talking about, awhile ago you mentioned to beetlejuice you thought the idea of being 'railed' or 'taken advantage of' by an invisible entity is incredibly hot and if he was up to it, you'd very much like to try it with him, and by God, the demon was foaming at the mouth, and practically vibrating with excitement when you asked him that.

As that thought crossed your mind you eagerly lay back down against the pillows, sliding your panties downs leaving them hanging on your ankle, and spreading your legs. You lay there beaming with excitement waiting for the shoe to drop, but as 5 minutes pass your feelings fade to disappointment

Maybe this is beej's way if telling you he didn't really want to have sex with you tonight, maybe when he asked you earlier he was hoping you'd turn him down again, your heart squeezed at the thought and the humiliation you put yourself through, laying there like an idiot, was he getting back at you for turning him down ever night this week?

"If you didn't want to have sex you should have said something you ass" you cry getting off the bed and beginning to find something more comfortable and cozy to go to sleep in.

"You can forget sharing the bed tonight too" You couldnt help but tear up, he made you look like a fool, waiting for him laying there naked for almost an hour, he's probably in this room laughing at you, enjoying his shitty revenge game.

You plug your phone in and crawl under the covers of your bed, already warm from you laying there like a dumbass, you wanted to cry until you couldnt breath, this had to be the meanest thing ANYONE, let alone your partner, have ever done to you, just as you turn over ready to cry yourself to sleep, your phone rings.

You grab your phone off the night stand, wipe your eyes and awnser a shaky "hello?" Assuming it was a coworker calling last minute to ruin your day off tomorrow.

"Hey, babes? Call me back asap!"

"Beetlejuice?" What did he mean call him back? Wasn't he here?

"Two more doll, hurry up!"

He sounded alittle upset

"Where are you?"

He groans "just call me back and I'll explain" you could hear young girls crying in the background "I'll just be a minute" he shouts away from the phone, but still is herd by you

"Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice" you get it over with tired of this back and forth, you hear the clunk of the phone he was holding hit the floor then the disconnect tone.

In a puff of green smoke he was back, the magneta in his hair now gone, replaced with an awful mix of purple and red, the pink that graced his suit moments before his disappearance? Now the same awful mix as his hair, though the colours quickly fade back to pink when he sees you

"BABES!" He lunges at you, the bed creaks when he makes contact with the mattress, the demon was quick to wrap his arms around you and nuzzle in, to which you push away

"What happened?" Your voice was stern and demanding, you wanted answers and wanted them now.

"Aw babes" beetlejuice starts rubbing the back of his neck "it was rough, apparently some kids at Lydia's school herd her summon me, so they did it too, ya know, a bloody Mary party game situation"

He was pulled away, he was pulled away against his will, he didn't snub you, god this made your gut turn, you were upset for nothing.

"Thank whoever I was still fully clothed when it happened huh babes?" The ghoul gives you a nudge "let me set the scene for ya toots" Beetlejuice crawls up against the headboard with you, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in

...

"Give daddy some sugar♡" was the last thing he said to you before being pulled from your bed.

Lips still puckered leaning forward, an unfamiliar scream breaks the mood

Opening his eyes, before him sat 3 teenage girls

The room was dimly light by a hand full of led candles

It took the ghoul merely a moment to adjust to the situation, adjusting his tie, and smoothing his hair back, no longer magneta, but now red, these little brats ruining the night he's been craving all week.

"I cant believe it worked"

"A real live ghost"

"This is so cool"

"What have we done?! He's totally gonna kill us"

The chatter amongst themselves as of this was all a silly game

Beetlejuice clears his throat to stop noise and gain the kids attention

"Alright-" he starts

"Okay mister ghost, we summoned you so you have to do as we say, just like you did for that creepy lydia girl" what beetlejuice could only assume was the ringleader in this pack of teens, stood up straight poking him in the chest, the ghoul cringes at the mention of Lydia, guess Babs was right, maybe the two of em should be more careful in public spaces, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna to spread it around he got caught and summoned. Beetlejuice pushes the thought of a lecture out of his mind, he had bigger fish to fry, meaning to get home and rail you, you must be worried sick, you poor vagina drying up in his absence.

"First off we want you to-" the kid's voice snapped him from his musing back to the current problem

"Alright kid, I'm gonna stop ya right there, this isn't a 3 wishes genie situation, I'm a demon, ya know, from hell, and you 3 pulled me away from some serious demon business, I should eat the lot of you for it"

As Beetlejuice ranted his form changed, becoming more monstrous, his teeth shapper, his claws more prominent, his eyes more snake like, all around more intimidating.

The teens huddle together in fear pleading for their safety and passing around the blame of who's idea to summon him was.

"But I won't" at those words the demon features fade and he returns to his default look, although still red "if you kids do something for me"

At this point the girls were sobbing, noses running, babbling unintelligible sounds, and clinging together for dear life

"Can I use your phone?"

...

"Wow" was all you could say

"I know, I know, I've been through alot tonight, I could really use some comfort, so how bout we~" he leans into you nuzzling his beard into you neck, you gasp at the sensation, feeling his tongue lick the stripe up your neck.

"Oh Bj♡" You let out a soft moan

"I know toots♡" he groans guiding you back to laying beneath him "now where were we?♡"

...

.....

Bonus

Lydia: hey so that girl who's been being mean to me hasn't done anything to me in awhile

Beej: ....haha weird....

Y/n: ...yeah weird

[blakbonnet]

AUTHOR OF THE WEEK: @saltpepperbeard

The second featured author of this week is the lovely, loquacious, and truly the best bestie anyone could have: Jodi ♥️ I don't know how she does it but Jodi's fics are fast becoming my most comfortable corner of ao3 to be in because she just has such a way with words, and I do think we should all let her write s3 😌 I also annoyed her into answering some questions for me and sharing her writing process:

What's your writing process like? Do you start with the beginning or the end? Do you write in order or as the scenes come to you?

So I *used* to write sequentially, ie from beginning to end, but the process has gotten more and more chaotic over the years—unhinged, one might say lol! Now, I typically start things off by drafting sections of a story, which ends up being a lot of dialogue more often than not. Like, there are *definitely* some wips in my drafts right now that are almost 100% Stede and Ed talking and nothing else lol (which I mean...staying true to their characters there if you ask me)! Then, if a bit of good description comes to me, I'll pencil that somewhere into the draft, too. And only *then* lol, if things are feeling right and the motivation is feeling high, will I actually attempt to write in sequential order—essentially just playing "fill in the blanks" and writing towards things I've drafted to mix everything all together!

...But sometimes my brain does still fast-forward and write future sections if the good ol' "shower/going to bed daydreams" strike. So it really just depends lol!

My 2014 writing brain, in Ed's voice: You are improving though! Kinda.

Favourite trope or headcanon you like to explore while writing?

...Squints at my tags on AO3 lol. If you see that almost *all* of my stories are hurt/comfort, no you don't <3. I just absolutely adore taking all the hurt Ed and Stede have gone through and soothing it with cuddles, kisses, and soft reassurances. Because man, *man,* have they both been through a lot. It's like Pandora's Box lol; once you start digging into the true depths of their hurt, you just end up with more and more and MORE. There's just so much that they both need and *deserve* to talk through as a crew—or talk through as a "two," as some have said lol, so I adore exploring that. I adore allowing them to have that space and that safety. *Particularly* with Ed getting to unpack things he faced in the earlier parts of Season 2, and with Stede getting to unpack...*anything.*

Also, because I write entirely in-universe, I'm a big fan of implementing some of the common, lovely headcanons. Ie, the crew coming to visit, the two of them maintaining a garden, the British never finding them, etc etc. I know not all of my published works reflect those, but a lot of my drafts do, promise lol!

Whose voice is easier to write - Ed or Stede? Why?

I *still* feel like I'm trying to nail down that ✨ kiwi cadence,✨ not going to lie lol! But, in sitting with this question and sort of going back and forth on it for a while, I think I'm ultimately going to have to land on Stede in most instances. Maybe because I'm one of the ✨ Stede-coded Girlies (gn)✨ , or maybe because I adore Ed so much and subsequently find it easier to gush over him narratively lol! But yeah.

Strangely enough though, I will say I find it easier to write Ed's voice when he's dealing with hurt, vs writing Stede's voice when he's dealing with hurt. I think that's because Ed is more open with his pain, and deals with it in more candid ways, whereas Stede likes to bottle things up and hide. So, it's subsequently harder to crack him open and let out everything that has backed up.

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

-Ed voice- Oooowaaaagggh.

Is coming to the table with two stories cheating? Because, I have two lol! I'm very proud of Scrumptious, and also Lovers of Beauty. The former because it was an idea that had been sitting in my head *forever* and I'm so happy it finally got realized, and the latter because it was my first go at writing other characters as well as an exploration of a very particular vein of Ed's hurt. Can't go wrong with Horny Stede and Ed in a dress either, I'd say lol!

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

Lmao: INTERTWINED. I feel like it's shown up in almost every single story I've written post-season 2, if not *every* single story. I'm just a big fan of throwing their canon quotes in my narration, with the "breathing the same air" and "love letter" speeches getting the most mileage. OH and also Stede's mermaid speech, too; "I'm here. I'm here. You're safe" assuredly gets thrown into the mix as well lol.

Also uhhhh, on a sillier note, I'd definitely say that the good' ol "fuck" gets a lot of usage lol! Ed and I 🤝 enhancing many a sentence with it.

Do you have a beta reader? Have they made you a better writer?

I do not! We die like the Badmintons.

I instead rely on myself for the long and tedious part of my process I call "combing." Ie, going over my last draft with a fine tooth comb to catch typos or any other silliness to the best of my ability.

Would I benefit from a beta reader? Probably, yes. Would I spook from having a beta reader? Probably, yes PFFF. So, combing it is!

Why OFMD 🥹

God, this show. GOD, this show. I just take such a deep and personal comfort in it for so many reasons. I think the two things that snagged me initially were: getting to see queer people just *being,* and getting to see *older* people finding love. The way that this show portrays us in such a natural, lovely light is so, so refreshing. It's like how Taika has often talked about it; there's no triumphant "coming out" type moment, there's no sensationalizing anything, and there's no spotlight on the queerness. It just...*is.* Everyone just loves whoever the hell they want, and there's no questioning or even discussing the implications of that. And I adore that. I adore the *freedom* of that. It just makes the show feel all the more personable and cozier, too.

Also, man, to see older queer people finding love...I'm going to be vulnerable on main here; I don't have a lot of relationship experience, and I'm nearing my 30's. Western Society/Culture puts this *huge* pressure on people to find the love of their life and have it all figured out by their low/mid 20's, so not fitting that norm has been quite the gut stab for me. And yes yes, I know, it's all entirely fabricated and no one has the same timeline, but it still aches to see, particularly when a lot of media portrays love within that age group, if not *younger.*

So, to see these two men nearing *50* finally finding each other after a life of emptiness and pain? To see them finally finding the person who understands them better than anyone else? And to subsequently get the comfort that somewhere, sometime, you'll cross paths with someone who just *gets* you? Ooooagh.

I think that plays into another part of the show that I adore, too. Ie, the theme that "things are going to be okay." That, no matter how dark and dreary things may seem in the moment, you could still have your mermaid moment, and subsequently end up in a cozy little inn with the love of your life. That there's so much kindness and hope and *love* awaiting you.

It's just so comforting on so many levels and I adore it with all my heart. It's a shame that CERTAIN execs and people equivalent will never be able to understand the depth and the importance; they're entirely, truly missing out.

Please head over to @ofmdlovelyletters (who also made the header) and send your love to all your favourite authors (and authors of the week 😈 watch that blog for some special letters coming your way)

[everybodyshusband]

i can't remember which bits i've shared and which bits i haven't shared of this fic buuuuut i feel bad about the fact that it's almost been eight months since i posted the first chapter of the dysphoric, transmasc rain/swiss fic so here, have a little snippet of chapter two that's been sitting in my drafts for what feels like forever :'D

cw for one line that could be interpreted as suicidal thoughts

"You don’t have to tell me anything.” The multi ghoul's voice held so much softness and affection that Rain couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. “But…” Shit. “If one of the reasons you feel so bad is because of something that happened earlier, then I need to know, baby. So, c’mon, talk to me?”

Rain shook his head, refusing to meet Swiss’s eyes.

“I can do yes and no questions for you, if that helps? But like I said, Rainy, I need to know.”

“...Fine.” Rain refused to admit—even to himself—just how difficult he found it to force that one simple word out.

“Thank you, baby,” Swiss smiled. “Was it something I did that made you feel uncomfortable?”

Rain shook his head, staring unblinkingly at his knees.

“Something I said?”

Rain hummed the affirmative and nodded slowly.

Swiss paused for a moment, considering. “Alrighty, I’m gonna need yah to speak for this one, okay? Just a few words, baby. D’you think you can manage that for me?” He waited for Rain to nod his assent—albeit very, very hesitantly—before continuing on. “Which words made you feel the most uncomfortable, Rain?”

He paused at this, chewing on his bottom lip and glancing up at Swiss as he considered how to answer the multi’s question properly; in a way that wouldn’t permanently alter Swiss’s entire perception of him, or that would let Swiss still believe that all was right in the world, and his partner wasn’t some freak of nature created—disfigured—by a botched summoning. Saying: “when you called me ‘good girl’ it made me want to tear my skin off, request that Dewdrop to burn me into ash, and find some poor, unknowing soul to throw my charred remains into the ninth circle to suffer as I deserve” was definitely true for the most part, but Swiss already seemed worried enough as it was; he didn’t deserve to be any more worried than he had to be. Rain had to be careful about this. “I didn’t like the– The good– The good– The–” His breath hitched in a sob. He couldn’t even say it out loud. Sathanas.

“Rain, baby, take your time. There’s no rush, yeah? This conversation doesn’t have a time limit we need to stick to."

Rain wanted to open his mouth and scream at Swiss that there was; there was a time limit. Mountain could be back at any second, and if he saw Swiss conversing with Rain, even if it was clear Swiss was trying to reassure the water ghoul, Mountain would likely tell Swiss to fuck off and come back another time, or not at all. The earth ghoul always means well, but Rain has found he can be a little… overbearing at times—although, honestly, Rain wouldn’t mind Mountain coming in right now and forcing Swiss out; at least it would mean avoiding this conversation for a while longer.

[morganas-pendragons]

Ocean(s) Away | E.M.

THIS IDEA WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE

Have the Reader from my first Elijah fic with Elijah at a gala, totally not based on the song Ocean Away from The Unofficial Bridgerton Musical. This has been sitting in my drafts forever and I’m trying to clear all these fics out LOL

Enjoy! 

***

You had him. You had him, and then you lost him, and the world hasn’t been quite right since. 

You should’ve expected it, trying to date a Mikaelson was always bound to end in failure. Rebekah had warned you as such. Even then, you had refused to heed her warnings about her brother and had instead done the one thing you’d never regret: You’d gone and fallen in love with him. 

You’d fallen in love with someone who was eternal, and you were finite. 

It was always bound to be tragic. 

What a beautiful party I'm looking up at the ceiling a lot The chandelier is so sparkly

Why you agreed to come to this, you have no idea. Niklaus and the remainder of his family who had not fallen victim to the war in New Orleans had decided to hold a gala in their family home, and you’d graciously accepted his invitation because he’d come to you and laid it in your hands himself. 

So you’d put on a dress, did your hair, finished your makeup, and kept your chin held high as you entered the Mikaelson home in the French Quarter. The ballroom was already bustling, filled with the likes of the vampires and witches who now occupied the Quarter -- with the occasional werewolf lingering uncomfortably in the corners. 

You saw him long before he saw you. It wasn’t hard to be drawn to Elijah. Someone as naturally handsome as he was never quite saw the beauty of being someone’s desire... and you had desired him from the first moment you’d seen him on that corner watching you play violin. 

You never said sorry Guess you forgot Or maybe you're not sorry at all

  “Darling, you made it!” Niklaus’ bright eyes gleamed as he stepped into your path, eyeing the violin bag slung over your shoulder. You returned the smile and allowed him to kiss your cheek before you parted from one another. “I’ve explicitly told the musicians to leave a spot for our star violinist who’s to perform this evening.” 

  “Thank you, Nik.” You murmur in reply, eyes cast just over his shoulder where Elijah’s head is tipped back - clearly laughing, given the reaction in his expression and his body - at the girl across from him. A pretty brunette you’ve never seen before. “I am afraid that afterward I will have to depart quickly. I have... other commitments.” 

You really just weren’t sure you could stand to be in the same room as Elijah when he was looking at someone else the way he should’ve been looking at you. 

Klaus followed your eyes toward Elijah and Hayley. He’d only just heard of your break-up the week before, hidden from the truth by his brother’s persistence of keeping so much to himself. The only thing Elijah couldn’t seem to keep quiet was his blooming affection for Hayley.

  “My brother is one of the smartest people I know,” Klaus confessed quietly as he wound an arm through your own to lead you to the stage. “But he is also one of the most ignorant people I know.” 

  “You don’t need to explain, Nik-” 

Turning to meet his eyes as you steadied yourself on the steps of the stage, you peered downward at him. Niklaus Mikaelson had a reputation for being fearsome, cold and cruel. He so rarely allowed himself to reach his fullest capacity of love. 

To be loved. Not until her. Not until Hope had been born. 

With you, though... There was something different about you that prompted Nik to be more cordial. More attentive to others feelings - especially yours and Rebekah’s - but only when no one else was paying attention. 

That didn’t matter though. You were just happy he wanted to guard your heart from his brother. 

  “But you deserve more than Elijah made you endure,” Nik replied. Your cheeks warmed as he pressed the gentlest kiss to your cheek before stepping away. “And you deserve the love you gave him.” 

But a beautiful evening I want to know just what the hell are you thinking Oh so stoic, emotionless, over us all so quickly What am I missing?

You don’t dare move until Klaus is addressing the crowd, thus drawing attention to the night’s star violinist as you begin to tune the instrument pressed against your shoulder. 

  “It is my greatest pleasure to introduce the best violinist in the French Quarter, Y/N.” 

Exhaling slowly through your nose, you poised the bow against the instrument and began to play as the crowd quieted and zeroed in on the haunting notes of the melody you played echoing against the high ceilings of the ballroom. 

You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the music. It was better then gazing over the crowd and inevitably locking eyes with the man who had ruined you. 

I can't even drink champagne No, without seeing your face Am I the one to blame? When we're dancing in the same room And you're an ocean away

***

What a terrible soirée With terrible people pretending they're happy In this masquerade We go through the motions When all that we wish is escape From the choices we make

He’s lost himself in the familiarity of Hayley. It’s not until she’s tugging eagerly on his sleeve to motion to the stage where Niklaus has just introduced the guest musician for the evening that he notices it: Y/N. You. 

He hasn’t seen you since he left you crying on the corner beneath the dim street lamp in the light haze of rain. That image would be burned into Elijah’s mind forever. 

It was for the best. The two of you had barely just begun dipping your toes into the waters of your budding relationship when you had murmured something in the throes of passion about wanting him, just him, forever. 

And well... Elijah had never had forever, so he’d run. All the girls he’d loved over the years were finite. They’d died. 

He couldn’t watch you die too. 

  “It is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you one who may be the most talented musician in the French Quarter. Ladies and Gentleman, Y/N,” Niklaus extended a hand in your general direction, and Elijah watched as you allowed your eyes to flutter closed and lost yourself in your music. 

And then I see her smiling How can she be smiling? There's been no reconciling And when she's at my focus she won't even notice my gaze How can she be okay

The standing ovation given to you is one well deserved. You’re quick to address the whole crowd, deliberate in keeping your gaze away from him, and Elijah is helpless to do anything but watch as his brother takes your hand and sweeps you out onto the dance floor. 

Even with the object of his desires as of late on the dance floor in his arms, Elijah is entranced by you. 

It will inevitably ruin him. 

***

When I can't even drink champagne, no Without seeing your, face Am I the one to blame? When were dancing in the same room but you're an ocean away

  “Y/N,” You shiver as Niklaus’ hands settle against your back - as your dress has the back cut out, another deliberate move in an attempt to draw Elijah’s attention - and begin tracing patterns against the bare skin there as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Look at me.” 

Heavy-lidded eyes shift upward to meet his own. Those piercing, transparent greens are staring back at you with such an intensity that you believe they may burn you to your core on the spot. 

And that doesn’t cover the want lingering in them. In his. In yours. 

But the real question is... who do you want? 

  “Nik-” 

His head dips to the bare expanse of your shoulder and settles there, lips burning their mark against your skin as your head falls forward to give him the ability to continue. 

  “My brother is many, many things,” Niklaus whispered in your ear as he continued his ascent towards your mouth. “But he has never quite been able to see what is truly right in front of him. For that he is a fool.” 

You thread your fingers into the hair at his nape. “But you,” You reply. “You are no fool.” 

He flashes that wicked grin that’s all teeth and downright vicious as he brings his face just close enough to yours to feel the warmth of your breath against his face. Something burns low in your stomach because of it. You hadn’t felt want like this since the last time you’d been with Elijah. 

And well, maybe there’s that small part of you that wants to make him pay for taking you and leaving you behind with his presence burned into the very fabric of you. 

  “No, I don’t believe I am.” 

You nudge your head backward in Elijah’s direction as the two of you continue around the width of the dance floor. There’s too many bodies around and it’s far too warm, but even you can feel Elijah’s gaze burning into the back of your head. “Well then,” You muse. “Why don’t you show your brother just who you really are, Niklaus?” 

And then he surges forward to kiss you, all consuming and all heat right in the middle of a crowd that sees every moment of it. 

Elijah nurses his champagne flute in the corner just out of sight. Hayley has gone off to tend to Hope, leaving him alone with nothing but his desires and the drink to drown them in. 

If this was the game you wished to play, so be it. 

[hoshiina]

im just here to share my thoughts (im just mr yapper atp)...... not a request ...just me rambling about these two (get them out of my head) (please dont) (actually let them stay longer)

something i find rather cute from both soshiro and hyoga is the fact that both of them are pretty much touch starved but they wouldn't realize it until they get that attention and when they get it they both will probably melt into the other person's touch without even realizing ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

and hyoga particularly will probably try to avoid being touched in any form because he's very reserved but to me hes just like a cat yknow like he wants you to pet him but he doesnt want to show how much hes enjoying it and thats such a cute thing in my head okay..... hes just......... a big cat....... cries and sobs. like imagine him just getting almost close to cuddling if not fully cuddling with his s/o, after getting used to them, without even realizing

AND SOSHIRO OH MY GOD imagine him in the same scenario.... that just breaks my heart💔💔💔 like he probably won't even sleep just to feel himself hugging their s/o and sharing that warmth because he has never been this close to someone else before 💔💔💔💔💔💔 IMAGINE HIS S/O HUGS HIM BACK NOOOOO tears rolling down my face ..thatd be like the end of him like he would def melt and id die 💔💔💔💔

and both of them surely care a lot about their partner like they probably dont even say it out loud but they'd be around their s/o a lot and they would make sure they aren't hurt or anything n they would most surely be very worried about their partner if they ever got hurt LIKE DO YOU UNDERSTAND .......THEY CARE.... THEY CARE SM BUT THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS IT BECAUSE THE OPPORTUNITY WAS NEVER THERE AND THEY WERE SO IMMERSED IN THEIR TRAINING IT NEVER CROSSED THEIR MIND ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ falls down on my knees and cries very loudly

sorry this was just me yapping but you're like the only one here who gets me n care about those two as well 💔💔💔 the thoughts were thoughting and i needed to share them....

STOP OMG DONT EVER BE SORRY TO YAP I AM SO HAPPY TO YAP WITH YOU TRULY A BORN YAPPER AS WELL

and oh my god.... TOUCH STARVED HOSHINA HYOGA....... FALLING TO THE FLOOR. TRULY. i absolutely love the idea of them BUT ESPECIALLY HYOGA subconsciously realizing he's accepted your touch.... LIKE SHUT UP WDYM HE SUBCONSCIOUSLY JUST WANTS YOU IN HIS ARMS WHAT IF I CRIED

also you're so right they care so much they just struggle to love so much MY GOODNESS im so broken... in my head hyoga is more of an in denial all the time type guy whereas hoshina is a more 'i don't deserve love' or 'i can't stand around falling in love i don't have all day' type guy...

ALSO ALSO ALSO THE THING YOU SAID ABOUT THEM CARING.... NOT WANTING US HURT....... STAY WITH ME I WILL SHARE AN OLD HYOGA WIP THATS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR FOREVER..... I THINK THIS IS THE IDEA RIGHT

but youre so correct i love the fact that they just CARE SO MUCH i think it is my favourite part about hyoga though... it's a little more obvious in hoshina i find but HYOGA...... DEPICTED AS A COLD EX ANTAGONIST THAT THEY DONT KNOW IF THEY CAN TRUST....... CARES....... HED GET MAD FOR NIKKIS SAKE AND STAND IN FRONT OF KOHAKU......... genuinely he's such a lovely lovely guy he cares so much and it just doesn't come across much STOP NOW I MISS HIM SO BAD !!!!

but i love the idea of them as they just put in hours and hours and hours of work on their one thing... truly alone.... not for the fame not for money just for them and their craft there is nothing more admiring i think absolutely adore them.... to me it is such a like. "tell me your bf won't cheat on you without telling me your bf won't cheat on you" type thing like no he'll be in his dojo. working away again today.

LOVE THEM SO MUCH UUEUEUEEEUEUEUE....... when hyoga gets animated again OHHHHH MY GOD....... I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR THE PERSON I WILL BE......

[blysse-and-blunder]

In lieu of a week in the woods

sunday, august 27, 2023 ~ 11:30pm

just got back from 6+ days off the grid, swimming, drinking tea, porch sittin’, and generally revisiting old stomping grounds. somehow it still wasn’t long enough.

(you can add a read more on mobile now??!!)

Reading picked out some specific weird old trade paperbacks to read at the cottage, and successfully finished one: margaret atwood’s lady oracle. one of those books where I will be thinking about it forever, but not necessarily because I enjoyed it? good prose moments, good turns of phrase or moments of clear perception, but i found the main character sort of perplexing—the bits of old Toronto, vintage mid century canadian childhood and adolescence, were probably what will stick with me. That and the way that I think it was trying to get psychonanalytic but, in classic 80s feminist fiction style, it didn’t make a ton of sense. also the fatphobia? like, experimenting with the pov of someone with intense body dysmorphia / weight shaming / internalized fatphobia felt unempathetic? like i was supposed to be impressed or titillated or surprised by this choice, that the book would even consider having a main character who was fat. period typical, sure, part of the mid century setting, sure, but also like. gratuitous.

also finished italo calvino’s the baron in the trees, and a.k. larkwood’s the unspoken name, and started the audiobook for the long way to a small angry planet. Also began my harrow the ninth reread, and wow this book is good. and even more so when you can follow what’s happening.

listening only the fact that I did spend so long literally in the woods has prevented me from having in-depth thoughts and feelings about hozier’s unreal earth. more to come as I sit with it longer, but so far—strong positive feelings. some new ground, some old ground, and some things that bridge the two nicely. worth listening to with headphones or however you can pick up all the layers in the mix. I really like ‘Icarian carrion’ on this listen.

watching watched a couple of episodes of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds this evening, since being back— ‘lost in translation,’ and the lower decks cross-over. loved seeing boimler and mariner in the flesh, and the different gags they fit into that one, despite the fact that one of the things I’ve liked most about this season has been the show gradually giving time to some of the more philosophical questions trek can explore—but lower decks does that too, sometimes better, and these two episodes back to back fit pretty well.

playing it was a very boardgame forward week at the cottage— clue, PARKS, and a new one for me, shadows over Camelot. not an uncomplicated setup, but some of the tie-ins to actual arthurian themes (the grail quest keeps pulling players in but it will grind them up and spit them out! the next generation are the ones who survive!) caught and held my enjoyment when the different mechanics threatened to lose it. I also tuned in to d&d remotely for a bit, though my connection was bad, and my rig was rated ‘haunted’ by the other players. they could hear crickets over the voice chat 😌🌲

making sewed a new patch onto my jacket and moved another two—picture to follow. didn’t do any of the mending I brought, but have had thoughts about what makes sense and what I might buy to supplement the projects. new fabric store on my commute deserves a visit, methinks.

working on truly the answer here is ‘not overthinking or delaying out of perfectionism’. which I have already done. finished all but the last eng 385 essay feedback, finished proofing for joe and responding to the department’s newsletter person for the piece she’s writing; still have to finish this letter of recommendation and these two (2!?) chapter drafts. the point is to be able to write a final sentence and just. let them go. learn how to not stop shy of finishing something. learn how to bring something (anything) to a state of some kind of completion. sure, right. sure.

if you need me, I’ll be back in the woods.

[goodgirlofglory]

Silver fox and the Captain - Chapter 7 (finale)

Chapter 6 - /Masterpost/

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4,3k

Warnings: Explicit content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, SMUT, ANGST, FLUFF (the whole shabang), angsty feelings of being unworthy and undeserving, oral (m receiving).

Summary: Standing at a cross-roads, will you dare reach out and accept the love and security you do not think yourself worthy off, but is offered to you either way?

Note: This is kinda weird, this last chapter has just been sitting finished in my google docs for MONTHS while I stupidly thought it was just a first draft still. So, I could have finished this series a long time ago, but ey, better late than never, right?

This series is such a fun, little darling for me. Thank you so much for reading🦋

They were offering you a job. With S.H.I.E.L.D. With the Avengers! Not as a team member, per se, God knew you were no superhero. But as a member of the accompanying S.H.I.E.L.D units that worked around the Avengers on smaller and larger missions. 

“I could use someone with your skills of stealth and theft out in the field, to gather intel while the flashy guys do their thing,” Fury had said, that proud smirk back on his lips. 

Black Widow had snorted at Fury’s last comment, and you had felt Hawkeye’s eye roll from across the table. 

Fury had laid the offer on the table - an honestly astounding salary, your own quarters in the compound and some standard access to tech and equipment, on level with a tier one S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Then, he had asked you to think about it before he left the room with a swivel of his leather coat and that had been that. The room had immediately cleared of everyone except you, Steve and a few of the Avengers. 

Black Widow had approached you where you sat shell shocked, your hand still in Steve’s grasp. 

“Silver Fox,” she had greeted you. 

“Black Widow,” you had answered, your voice a mere croak. 

“Call me Natasha,” she said, giving Steve a wink before departing the room. 

You now paced back and forth in Steve’s room, mind rambling. Steve sat patiently on the edge of his bed, eyes tracking your movement, brows drawn slightly down in that concerned expression you still struggled to believe was genuine.

“I just don’t get it,” you said for probably the fifteenth time, “why would he do this? Why offer me this job?” you said incredulously. 

“He told you; he could use someone with your skills,” Steve said patiently, like he’d said all the last times you’d asked. 

“Yeah, but how could he possibly trust me? How could any of you trust me?” you asked and you knew you were lashing out, your tone loud and accusing.

Steve remained calm where he sat, forever the perfect rock for you. Fury’s comment about stealing hearts rushed to the front of your mind, and you felt your cheeks heat. Steve raised himself off the bed and came up to you, warm, broad figure looming over you, cupping your face in his hand. 

“I trust you. Fury trusts my judgment. Do I have any reason to doubt my judgment?” he asked, soft like a lover’s murmur. 

You wanted to blindly protest. No, he had no reason to doubt his judgment, you wanted to believe that as much as him. But there was this incessant voice in your head needling you. Was it true? Could you really measure up to these people? Could you do the switch from morally gray mouse scampering about in the shaddows to a good, team playing member of fucking S.H.I.E.L.D? You wanted it, God did you want it. But… some part deep down whispered that you were delusional. This world, this shining, good and kind world, Steve’s world - it wasn’t for the likes of you. You didn’t belong here, and you didn’t deserve their regard - didn’t deserve Steve. 

“What would happen if I said no? To the job?” you asked instead of answering Steve’s question, looking up into his breath taking baby blue eyes, saw how the pupils expanded as you looked into them, how reverently he looked at you. Like you could ever deserve to be looked upon so lovingly. 

He sighed, pondering your question for a bit, his brows dipping down in the most adorable frown that had your heart clenching. You regretted the question only because it made him look anything other than happy, content or immensely pleasured. For the barest of moments your fingers itched to tear his clothes off and swallow his dick, just to put his mind on other things. 

“Honestly? I don’t know. It’s hard to erase the past. And while there is literally no public dirt on your name, hell, it doesn’t even show up in any database we have -”

“I’m really good,” you interrupted. 

He huffed, fondly exasperated by your cockiness as always.

“Yes - but S.H.I.E.L.D knows. Fury knows… I know,” he said. 

And there it was. Though you had been a ghost for most of your life, even ghosts have baggage from lives lived. No public government or organization had any claim to have you persecuted, but S.H.I.E.L.D had. They knew enough, knew all they had to to take you down - and rightfully so from their point of view. Steve knew it all. You’d spilled everything to him in between the sheets during the last month, a proverbial word vomit that had left you trembling with the relief and the foundation-rocking vulnerability of laying your life and soul bare like that. Steve, the literal angel, had taken it all, wrapped you in his protective warmth and murmured soothing words of comfort and forgiveness each time until you felt shaky for whole new reasons. 

You were shaking slightly now, hearing from his lips that your past might have unavoidable consequences no matter how much he personally forgave you. You knew this of course, had always known you would be toast the minute someone got their hands on you. Hell, you were supposed to be dead now, if Steve hadn't intervened…

He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to his broad chest, propping his chin on the top of your head, rocking from side to side. 

“I tried to convince Fury to let you into a victim protection program. Get you a nice home and job here in the states, let you live a normal life. But he wasn’t entirely convinced. Told me letting you out of your sight now would be stupid. Keep your friends close -”

“-But your enemies closer,” you finished around a lump in your throat. 

He pulled away so he could look into your eyes again. 

“I like to think you’re a friend in this scenario. Selfishly, I would also like to have you close, preferably only as far as down the hall,” he said, stroking a thumb over your jaw. 

“So?” you pressed, needing to know what Fury would do if you said no to the job. 

“So…maybe prison. Maybe some intel exchange with the US government, let them take you. Though that will be over my dead body, fox,” Steve said, and the fierceness with which he said that last part made you believe him. 

The guilt that followed was gut wrenching. The responsibility Steve felt over you left him careless for his own self preservation. Could you trust yourself not to drag him into your unforgivable messes? Could you escape your past and baggage, and not let it unfairly bleed over into Steve’s life?

Distracting yourself from that question, you lifted up on your toes and kissed him, opening your mouth to his tongue.

“Fury will want his answer pretty soon,” Steve murmured against your lips after another kiss that had your hands clinging to his shirt.

He saw your smirk and had already started to shake his head slightly before you spoke, though he was smiling. 

“Then let’s make him wait,” you murmured, your smile matching the one Steve reluctantly let spread on his own lips, though he tried to look reproachful. Adorable. 

You sucked him off on the couch that night. He looked powerful where he sat reclined, his bulged thighs spread wide - virile and strong, potent and capable. From your position on your knees between his legs, he loomed like a mountain, able to snap you like a twig with the barest of effort. All of that made the sounds you pulled from him that much sweeter. 

You suckled noisily on his heavy ballsack, lathering it lovingly with spit before sucking it into your mouth, and Steve’s cock bobbed where it lay on your face. Small “ah” - sounds escaped him, so soft compared to the commanding tones that usually came from him. It made your pussy throb. 

Pulling back, you took his cock in your hand. The tip shone with precum. You stuck your tongue out, flicked it on his frenulum and was rewarded with another glob of leakage oozing from his tip and into your mouth. He moaned above you, one of his hands making its way into your hair. 

“Fuck, f-fox, oh,” he gritted out as you sank your mouth on his length, working the part you couldn’t fit with your hand. 

Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them on your fingers, letting your fingertips dip even lower. He moaned hoarsely, and you saw in your periphery that the couch cushion was dangerously close to ripping with the way he was fisting it. 

You slobbered on, basking in the sloppy, wet slide of saliva and precum, the hot weight of Steve’s cock on your tongue, the twitches of it as you hollowed your cheek on the upslide. He slid from your mouth with a small, wet pop. 

“I want your cum in my mouth,” you said as you mouthed down his shaft, looking up at his scrunched up face. 

“God,” Steve moaned, throwing his head back, his cock throbbing in your grasp. You were still rolling his balls in your hand. He was really sensitive there, you’d had the pleasure of discovering. 

“Will you give it to me?” you asked as you mouthed your way up to the head again, giving it an open-mouthed kiss. 

He looked back down at you, and you could feel him straining to keep in place, thigh muscles bulging trying to keep his hips from pistoning up, seeking the heat of your mouth again.

“A-anything,” he panted, his hand stroking through your hair as you gave him your undivided attention, savoring it. 

“Good,” you sighed with pleasure around his cock. Steve’s hair was a mess of tousled, blond tufts, there was sweat on his brows and his chest heaved under his unbuttoned shirt. His brows had that furrowed look, and color sat high on his cheeks. Your panties had to be ruined by now.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured against the head of his cock, still kissing it wetly, and another spit of precum drooled from the tip, wetting your lips further. He put his other hand through his own hair and laughed a bit incredulously, helplessly, as you sank onto his cock again, working up a rhythm that would bring him to the brink.

The thrill of having him at your mercy like this was intoxicating. Pleasuring him was intoxicating. Being allowed to see him in these private moments of intimacy was intoxicating, addictive in a way you felt powerless to resist. You wanted to be on your knees for him forever. If only you could. 

The sound of the couch cushion being shred open under Steve’s grip alerted you a split second before your mouth was flooded with his essence, salty and sticky on your tongue. You eased him through his orgasm with your mouth, eagerly swallowing everything he gave you while his huge form trembled on the couch, his soft moans turning into even softer whimpers. You could feel your heartstrings going taut, your blood rushing to pool hot and tender in your chest. 

Later, when he had paid you back seven or eight times for the orgasm on the couch, you rose sticky and sweaty from the bed to wash off before going to sleep, already missing his warmth as you tiptoed to the en suite bathroom. 

Washing your hands after a quick rub down with a warm cloth, you found your own eyes in the mirror. You froze like a deer caught in the headlights. 

What the hell do you think you’re doing? 

Standing there, covered in your own and Steve’s dried and drying love fluids, plump from a month of leisure, hair clean but messy from an afternoon in bed, eyes filled with a childish amount of giddy hope. You suddenly felt foolish. 

This isn’t for you. 

…

You stepped quietly back into the room. Steve was facing away from you, his head a messy, blond mop on the pillow. You knew he would reach for you once you dipped under the covers - that, whether asleep or not, he would reach until he found you, pull you into him and curl around you like a cocoon. 

You dressed in utter silence, your instincts and stealth thankfully not discernibly dulled by a month of lazing about. You fished your readily packed bag from the air vent in the bathroom and walked back into the bedroom to slip out the window, going over the route in your head. Your bones itched to get it over with, though your heart was heavy like lead in your chest. You wondered when you’d get a full night’s sleep again…

“That’s it, then?” you heard behind you as you perched on the window sill, about to crack open the window to let in the chill, night air. 

Fuck

You steeled your expression and turned to find Steve, naked, sitting on the edge of the bed. His expression was so carefully neutral, it almost looked like a mask. 

You said nothing. Didn’t know what to say. Maybe saying nothing would help him let you go. Maybe it could hurt him enough to sever the bond between you. Something deep in your chest surged at that thought, clawing up your throat, screaming no, no, no…

“You don’t have to. It’s not too late,” Steve said then, and damn him for giving you a way out even now, when you so obviously were in the act of betraying him. Damn him and his forgiveness, his too good for his own good heart that you didn’t deserve. “I didn’t want to believe it, but you’ve been thinking about it all night, haven’t you?”

That surprised you. 

“How did you know?” you asked, going over every detail of that night, everything you said, any time you could have slipped. 

He huffed a laugh that wasn’t entirely not fond. 

“I can pretty much sense it by now. When you’re gearing up to bolt. Have experienced it enough times, that shift in the air, how your mind slips to the proverbial horizon,” he said. 

You felt your heart helplessly tug at that. Never had you felt guilty for how your actions affected others. It came with the job, that emotional numbness, the walls. But with Steve, your entire foundation threatened to crumble at his feet. You didn’t want to hurt him. Other than that, you were scared of the pain you yourself would feel at being separated from him. 

Steve sighed heavily, a slight tremor in the exhale of air. 

“I guess, if this is what you need to do, then I can’t force you to stay,” he said, and in that moment, it was as if everything but the two of you shrank away. He wasn’t talking about S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers, or the job offer, or your past, or the two completely different worlds you came from. In that moment, it was Steve, just a man, and you, just a woman, and you were leaving him. Abandoning him. 

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t him. It was you, and how much you didn’t deserve him, and how he needed to see that. You wanted to ask him how he meant to explain this fortune? How such a salvation as this could just present itself to you with no hindrance after everything that had come before it? You wanted to cry, but you had forfeited such weaknesses now. Just like you were forfeiting love.

You turned, cracked the window open, and smelled the crispy, night air ripe with summer. 

“I know who I fell in love with,” Steve murmured behind you. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed at all. You were suddenly glad you had your back turned to him, for you had no control over the way your eyes widened, nor how your heartbeat kicked into hard gear. In love. Another beat of silence. He was waiting for you to answer him. You didn’t, as unfair and cruel as it was to him. “You’re always welcome back to me, fox,” he said then, and you amazed even yourself with how you managed to slip out the window then, feet sure and silent as they padded across the roof. 

There was a cacophony of noise in your head. Voices screaming to go back, to tackle Steve and kiss him, to suck his soul out of his dick and never let him leave your bed. Voices that wailed in grief and told you to fling yourself from the roof before your heart fell out of your chest. Voices that screamed how unworthy you were of his love and if he wouldn’t see that, you would have to deny him. You scrambled your will to shut them all up, and channeled all your focus and determination to the task at hand; get out of the S.H.I.E.L.D compound undetected. You told yourself you could cry then, well knowing that the moment you crossed off the base and into the US wilderness, you would probably never know a moment’s peace for the rest of your life. No matter, you could carve your heart out and leave it in the ground later. Now you needed to move. 

Deftly, you slipped from shadow to shadow, making your way across the vast building that was the compound. Your feet grew heavier the longer away from your room and from Steve your feet took you. Your breath rattled in your chest, disturbed not from the running, but from how off you felt. Off kilter, off balance, it all felt wrong. But you had to do this. Had to prove to yourself you could escape, that you could do it. 

You swallowed painfully and climbed down the building in steady leaps, lowering yourself the last way with the rope from your bag, carefully moving within the blind spot of the security cameras on the north west corner of the office part of the building, where no one would be this time of night anyway. 

Trekking over the large, green area was the most risky part of the route, but with steady routes from bushes to larger groups of trees. No flood lights, no alarm, no guards with guns. You reached the fence lining the entire base, and got out the wire cutter you’d snagged from maintenance and began making a large enough hole to crawl out. 

In quite a bit of disbelief, you came out on the other side of the fence and started running immediately. With only a small flashlight and the moon in the sky in front of you, you stumbled through the thick forest surrounding the base, your breath the only sound in the night. 

At last, the trees opened to a clearing, and you halted, slowing, slowing, slowing until you stood completely still, staring ahead. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, though you were barely winded. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Your body was all wrong, seemed to squirm, your nerves moving this way and that, protesting where you were, what you were doing. 

I know, I know, you thought to yourself. I don’t want to leave, either. But…but…

But what… 

But what?!

You stared ahead, blindly. 

But. What?

What was the reason for leaving? 

In love. 

The world grinded to a halt for a long moment.

You turned on your heel and started walking. Your walk turned into a run. The moon at your back, back through the trees. You climbed back in through the fence and used the tongs to fit the piece you’d cut out haphazardly back in place. You made a mental note to come back and secure it better soon. Moving back through the shadows, you found your rope on the office side of the building and climbed it to the top. Packing the rope with you, your feet carried you across the roof of the compound, the same way you’d come. Your head was completely silent, your breath steady, your feet sure, your heart a sound beat. Only when you sidled down to the window of your bedroom, did your heart pick up. It was still open, the lights still on. 45 minutes had passed maybe. 

With the same sort of instincts that had always led you in unsure situations, you slipped back into the room. 

Steve looked up from where he sat with his head in his hands, still naked on the edge of the bed. His eyes, wide with surprise, met yours dead on. They were wet. His cheeks were shiny with tears. He was crying.

“Fox?” he said, his voice but a whisper. 

The sob escaped you before you could do anything to stop it. It flew across the dead silent room, an ugly, choking sound that had you so exposed your skin crawled. You threw a hand over your mouth as if you could trap the sound after it’d left. 

Steve rose to his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” you exclaimed, forcing your hand away from your mouth. “I’m so sorry,” you said again, and now there were tears in your eyes. There was no point in trying to keep them in, you knew that. 

Steve took one moment to assess you before he stormed up to you and pulled you into his arms. You pressed your face to his chest as he wrapped his arms, his strong, warm, capable, safe arms around you. Your own arms went around his torso, clinging to his back, shaking. 

“I was scared, and stupid. I act so stupid when I’m scared, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I came right back when I understood how stupid I was acting, please, I’m -” you rambled in between wracking sobs, speaking into Steve’s sternum, your tears smudging on his skin. 

He shushed you quietly, rocking you back and forth softly. “It’s okay, little fox, I understand,” he said, kissing your hair as you sobbed on. He shuffled backwards, dragging you along a bit crookedly before the back of his knees hit the mattress. He toppled back with you clutched in his arms and you fell onto the mattress that still smelled faintly of your mingled scents from earlier that night. 

You lay there for a long while before your breathing evened out. When you at last had gathered the courage, you lifted your head from Steve’s chest and looked into his eyes. They were still a bit red rimmed, his cheeks and nose a bit splotchy red, but they shone now, with something you could only discern as happiness. The guilt flushed your system anew. 

“I made you cry,” you said softly, reaching up a hand to cup his face. 

He leaned into the touch and smiled just a little. 

“Yeah, but I knew you’d be back.”

That made you bristle a bit.

“What? No, you didn’t. I didn’t even know I was coming back,” you protested. 

He shrugged, jostling you a bit in the process. 

“Well, I didn’t know you’d come back so soon, but I knew I’d see you again,” he said, and he was utterly convinced. 

He’d play the long game, if he had to. Would find you and steal moments with you like before, maybe take you back to the compound to do it over again, if that would help. You saw it in his eyes, his determination. His devotion. 

“I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve any of this,” you mumbled, those dreaded words of truth like bile in your throat. 

Steve huffed, fondly exasperated. 

“Fox, if you don’t deserve a little bit of safety and comfort after everything you’ve lived through, who does?” he asked. 

“Yeah, but I’ve done things. Bad things. You’ve said it yourself,” you argued. 

“Y/N. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. The world isn’t black and white. There are no completely good people and no completely bad people. It took me a long time to realize that myself,” he said. 

You didn’t have an answer to that. Hadn’t really thought about it that way. You weren’t entirely convinced, but you knew one thing. This was where you wanted to be. If you looked away from deservedness and karma and social justice or even blind, stupid luck - this was where you wanted to be. And for the first time in your life, you could actually just reach out and take what you wanted. 

Steve kissed your forehead, squeezing you tighter in his arms, and you leaned into it completely helplessly. It felt like you needed his touch to breathe. 

“How far did you get?” he asked. 

“About two miles off base,” you said, closing your eyes, pressing your ear to his chest to hear his heartbeat. 

His breath caught for a moment. 

“Really?”

You snorted. 

“Yeah, you should work on the security in this place. Anyone could just walk in.”

He huffed, arms tightening around you again, and you could almost feel the smug pride rolling off him. 

Proud of me, you thought with that spark of giddy joy that spread molten within your chest.

“Maybe we won't tell Fury about that. I can work my way around upgrading the security,” he said and you giggled. 

There was a moment of silence, a content and peaceful silence that felt so good you wondered how you could be so stupid as to ever let this go. 

“Do you have your answer for Fury?” Steve prompted after another minute of content silence. 

You lifted your head and kissed him. Kissed him long and lingering and as sweetly as you could. 

“Well?” he prompted when you eventually broke away. 

“Nag,” you murmured against his lips. 

“Hey, I’m nothing if not persistent,” he said, smiling against your mouth before nibbling your bottom lip playfully. 

“I know,” you said, “I know who I fell in love with.”

[annlillyjose]

dairy whiskey – update 05 – i finished the book!

[image description: on a background of large, green leaves, a white serif font reads “dairy whiskey – update 05” / end id]

feels so weird to say this, but this is the last update for dairy whiskey – the litfic novel for messed up people (aka me and my pals)

the stats, the facts:

i finished writing this book on 28/06/2023 around 4:00 am

the first draft rests at 76,684 words

this book has ten chapters and ten vignettes

i am deeply sorry to dinah for all the pain i’ve caused her

i miss this book so much already that i cannot sit a minute without thinking about it

i am officially a wreck. a proud one regardless.

i also have a few goodies for y’all!

the dairy whiskey playlist

redeemed by ransom – the dairy whiskey chapbook

unsplash collection

if you think i’m obsessed with my book, yes, i am. i very much am i most likely will be for a long time (if not the rest of my life).

fun fact: i finished writing it a day before my twentieth birthday, so it’s officially the book i wrote through my late teens. gonna be super emo and say, “i grew up with this book!”

so, again, welcome to the final update for dairy whiskey, covering the last three chapters and vignettes.

excerpts and taglist under the cut.

disclaimer: this is an original work of fiction. plagiarism of any kind will not be tolerated.

TWs:

chapter eight – mahalath leannoth

i’ve got two excerpts to share from this chapter. they’re super no-context, you know the drill.

The door to the room had been open, so I stumbled in, rosary in hand. Safety pins were scattered on the bed, some of them bent from pressure. The windowpane and the tiles next to it were covered in talcum powder. On the dressing table were two glasses of black coffee, its dry stain in rings on the bottom of it. It smelled of sweat and American body mist. One of the two pillow covers had been burned with an iron box, leaving an eye-shaped hole in the middle. Curly hair patterned the floor. Among those, like the promised silver lining in a dark cloud, I found it – a white strand of hair, thin, wavy, and membraned in cobwebs.

welcome back, grandma. bye again.

the next excerpt is another one of the thousand melodramatic emotional experiences that dinah goes through.

Nothing made noise. Every lone thing that had been alive and blooming in the village had died. Every land was barren, every river was flooding, every beautiful thing had turned to dust. Every face only a blur and every sound, a cry for help. Everything bleak and bleached, everything lost. Everything was gone and yet, the lives of everyone else remained the same; remained unchanged. Every family untouched but mine. All of them fortunate but mine. Everybody in their nests but me, a raven, flying about the village with a song in its head. It had come from nowhere, cutting through my silence, and it would stay forever as a muffled hum. A somber cry.

it actually runs a bit longer but yeah. that will be it for now.

vignette eight – lover’s vengeance

no excerpts from this chapter. enjoy the silence.

chapter nine – womb stain

teeny tiny excerpt from this one because i can never really shut up.

Mist covered the plantation and the road to the house. It rested in like a chiffon skirt.

vignette nine – vortex of wrath

we’re back with austin vignettes and pretty pretty prose for this pretty pretty boy.

Austin has been both abyss and mirrorball, but today, he is reborn in dirt. He is human more than he is boy. More than an accumulation of lessons and silences forced into place. Today, he is free, his wings unclipped, his fire unleashed. Today, he is lover. His ribs are knives sharpened against the metallic ring of revenge. His hands, mapped with fury, make love with sin. Today, he is man more than he is son. He is tide. He beats against the shore. Today, he takes in a sweep.

this goes on for another half an hour (more or less) because austin is everybody’s favourite and he deserves the world.

chapter ten – wine hearts

only one excerpt from this chapter too.

I woke up in the afternoon with pain piercing through my head. I sat up in bed, clutching chunks of hair in my fists. I buried my head in the pillow and groaned, but the pain remained. I got up and went to the bathroom. I turned the shower on and stood under it, the water, cold despite the sun, falling on my skin. My skin melted under it like a glacier, heat escaping every pore that had trapped it in. I lathered shampoo into my hair and soap onto my skin. I washed myself clean, brushed my teeth, and dried my hair with a towel. I wiped my body with another and changed into a fresh pair of clothes – an olive-green T-shirt and a creme long skirt.

also runs longer and talks about more things dinah does that are… ahem… unfortunately relevant to the (no) plot.

vignette ten – the beginning and the end

so, this is a vignette i might actually take out. i like how the story ends without it and kinda feel like this doesn’t fit that well, but we’ll see about that next month when i sit down for edits.

until then, that’s it! that’s my book! big thanks to everyone who supported me throughout the process of writing it. hope y’all get to hold this in your hand real soon!

– ann.

general taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@shaonsim @heartfullkings @vnsmiles @dallonwrites @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @rowansghost @ambidextrousarcher @zoe-louvre @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy @rodentwrites @saltwaterbells @snehithiye @at-thezenith

[fruitanddarkness]

the mun of this blog is a lovely soul. very sweet, very funny and also very talented. i am very happy to chat with them and to also write with them. i see a lot of effort put into every muse they have, whether it is one of their oc's or a fandom muse. every single character they touch is very distinct in their own personality, very individualistic with no bleed over between muses. and the oc's? they just make me want to hear more about their design. the mun of this blog is full of creativity and has been nothing but kind in sharing their time with me. i am very happy to be mutuals with them. u///u

OOC;; This has just been sitting in my drafts forever because I love to stare at it but also just- how can I possibly come up with anything to match what you sent?? I often struggle with this blog, more than I'd like to admit. Whether it be for activity reasons or feeling as if my muses are not good enough I just... from the bottom of my heart, I cannot thank you enough for your kind words. The time we spend together chatting, plotting, and hopefully, soon once I get my ass in gear, RPing is never time wasted in my book.

You are a simply beautiful human, and you deserve everything good in this world and I adore you with all that I am. My muses do too I'll have you know~

[sadclownparadoxxx]

•*¨*•.¸¸☆ Never Leave•*¨*•.¸¸☆ P.S.H

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader

Genre: Angst(ish), Fluff, Hurt/Confort.

TW: Description of depression. Low mood. Self destructive thoughts. Abandonment issues.

Word Count: 0.5k

Summary: Seonghwa is trying to remind reader that they are loved after a bad day. (First person narrative).

Note: this has been on my drafts since forever and I decided to upload it for some reason. Hope you like it.

Every time I see Seonghwa I feel home.

I like holding his hand and playing with his fingers and when he smiles at me. I feel like I belong somewhere.

"Are you ok?" He suddenly asks. Maybe it is because we had spent way too much time together but I think he can smell when I'm not feeling well. Maybe he's just too intuitive.

I sigh and and press my lips together.

"I feel like I'm a awful person" I spit looking down, not able to actually look at him while I speak.

Through all this year I've been unable to hold vincules for too long. I make people mad, I make them leave. They always leave.

Hwa knows I'm thinking he will eventually leave too. We have talk about it but it never makes it any less mad to hear it. He's patient and understanding to me but he's still human, I get it.

I don't want to bother him anymore. He hears me talk again about how I think I make awful things to people without knowing, how I feel like I deserve to be alone.

"Do I need to tell you that is not true?" He inquires holding both of my hands and I nod. We are both sitting in front of each other and I'm not able to Look at his face right now, but he gently takes my chin between his fingers to make me.

I look at his big worried eyes and mine water instantly. He press his lips against mine and I can't hold my tears anymore.

I love being loved by Seonghwa. That's the only thing I know when he kisses me like this. He want's to show me that I deserve to be loved, he have said it a thousand times.

I have a ton of flaws but he wants me to know that he loves each one of them. That everything that we don't like we can talk it out. That it doesn't have to be like this. That he is here for me and he won't leave me.

And I'm scared because I love him.

I love him so much my heart aches every time I think about him, and I don't want him to ever leave.

I'm scared again he will find something he can't handle in me and leave me taking my heart with him.

I'm terrified of not being loved by him anymore.

"Please, never leave" I cry against his lips and he grabs me to make me sit on his lap.

"I won't" he smiles softly wiping my tears. I'm a mess and he still manages to look at me like I'm the stars in his sky.

I know there's no way he can be sure about it. But I choose to believe it.

All I have is this exact moment when his arms are holding me close and I can see the love in his eyes.

I only have this second when I can touch his hair with the tips of my fingers and can caress his cheek to feel the shadow of the soon to grow beard. When he kiss my fingers and smile and I want to make it last forever.

This exact second is the forever I'm asking Seonghwa, and right now, when I'm this fragile, it is enough.