#xposted on ao3

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[rainwaterapothecary]

"First Kisses"

#serennedyprideweek prompt: First Kiss

There were many ‘first kisses’ in a relationship as long and as strong as theirs.

Luis had started it, of course. Why wouldn’t he? He sees an attractive yanqui and is not supposed to fluster him after the American saves his life?

So with a wink and a flourish, Luis Serra had kissed the back of leather-clad knuckles before disappearing into the depths of Valdelobos. If Leon heard nothing but the ringing in his ears and felt nothing but the powerful blush coating his face and ears then that was his own business.

But so was Ashley. Right. The mission. Ashley. Adrenaline kicked in and kicked his ass onto the path that led away from the taunting Spaniard and towards the kidnapped and scared Ashley Graham.

-

Their next ‘first kiss’ was Leon’s. As the man took in the panting Spanish ex-pat who had just completed a grueling physical therapy session for his back and the nerve damage to his arms, Luis lay in a puddle of greasy hair and unattractive paleness.

Leon had never been softer for a human being in his life.

As the scientist grimaced with pain before shifting on the blindingly white hospital bed, Leon S. Kennedy leaned over him, settled one hand beside one of Luis’, and kissed him gently on the forehead.

It was the sort of thing his Nona would have done for him, but it felt right.

Luis had stars in his eyes when Leon finally pulled away and met his grin with a flicker of a smile.

-

Trading back half a year later, Luis settled his hands into Leon’s front pockets and rested his cheek on the agent’s broad shoulder. Leon smirked behind his beer but leaned into the embrace, his back safely bracketed by Luis’ chest.

“¿Qué más, Vaquero?” The scientist questioned softly, lips catching on the back of Leon’s shirt. One shoulder came up instinctively when thick, curly hair tickled his neck but Leon said nothing. He shrugged and lowered his beer can to take in the cookout in front of them.

Laughter filled the air as Claire flung a Frisbee with deadly accuracy at a STAR member who caught it out of the air and playfully chucked it back. Over by the food table, Carlos chuckled while Jill tried to get frosting out of his beard. ‘Congrats Grad!’ decorations filled the small backyard and matched the gaudy badge the president's daughter wore but Leon’s attentions were honed into the soft pair of lips that brushed against his neck.

“Careful, troublemaker.” Leon intoned, smiling into the brunette waves tucked into his cheek.

“Let them look, they should be used to trouble at this point.” The Spaniard growled cheekily beside his ear.

The agent smirked mischievously before butt-checking his partner into the nearby snack table. Luis went down cackling while the rest of the party merrily kept their eyes away from the love-lit look on Leon’s face.

*-*-*-*

A/N -

Part two will be posted tomorrow 😴 [Part 2]!

If my Spanish is wrong be kind to me the best I had was middle school-

Everybody go say thank you to the one-man mod bringing pride week to the fandom: wisecrackingeric-2!

[shamelesslymkp]

man, people get so angry about anything critical in public ao3 bookmark notes and like I get feeling hurt if it's something you come across accidentally but also that literally is a space for readers to . recommend fics to other people. and readers should be allowed to provide nuance and caveats to those recommendations without being told they're terrible people and the reason people stop writing.

like! there are many things people do that are truly terrible, like add fics to collections labeled 'absolute trash do not re-read' or whatever, which the author cannot help but see, and bookmarking a fic just to say that it's terrible and you shouldn't read it is just. honestly kind of bizarre behavior, like. I don't even understand the purpose of that beyond trying to be a jerk, tbh, but things like 'x character seemed pretty ooc but the story is excellent' is really not . a cruel thing to say to other readers.

*personally I do recommend adding a caveat like 'seemed ooc to ME' or 'ymmv' but like. that's also just my personal style of recommendations.

[satinoflowers]

Day 1 of Jon Snow fortnight: The Humble Champion ficlet

Beneath the shadow of the Wall, a laborer toils.

Of course, Jon isn’t usually a laborer. Usually around now he’d be walking the ramparts with his brothers in black, checking ballistas and defenses for cracks and restocking oil. But today Kegs had caught a vicious fever, and was quarantined in Hardin’s tower for fear of spreading his sickness amongst the crows. And Jon would be damned if a single builder couldn’t attend to his duties- there was much and more, always, to be done. 

“Lord Crow! What the hell are you doing?” Tormund stalks over from his seat, one fist full of dice and the other full of a tankard.

“I could ask you the same. Don’t you have some delegating to do?” Jon spares him a glance before bringing the hammer down, driving the rest of the nail into the log. He’s been working on a palisade for the past hour- a palisade that was due to be finished a day ago. 

“To hell with delegating, Jon. The name’s not Tormund Delegator-Slayer.” The wildling thinks for a moment. “HAR! Actually, it has a good ring t’it. I’ll add it to my list.” 

“...Right.” The lord commander wipes the sweat from his brow, which had begun to turn cold and hard.

Pounding a hammer for hours on end worked different muscles than sword fighting, and the strain in his shoulders reminded him of his tireless training as a recruit. The memory and feeling was as pleasant as a warm gust of wind… but he could only enjoy it for a moment before Tormund Talks-Too-Much interrupted.

“Come have a roll with us, lad. Take a break!” 

“Sorry, Tormund. These palisades were supposed to be done a day ago, and all the builders are delegated to other roles.” 

“You’re the Lord Commander. I’m sure you could find one gods-damned person to drive a fuckin’ nail.” Jon shakes his head and readies the next nail. 

Tormund sighs, and claps a giant hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“Lad. The singers won’t sing songs for no builders- they’ll sing for Lord Commanders, and warriors, though. And part of being a warrior is a bit o’ gambling.”

“Someone must do it. And I never much cared for song anyways.” Hopefully that’ll convince his friend to leave him alone. 

Tormund considers this, leaning against Jon’s unfinished palisade, causing the wall to tilt awkwardly to the side. Jon has to steady the icy wood with his bare hands, contracting a splinter in the process. Damnit. Wonder how many splinters Lord Commanders Mormont or Qorgyle had in their services. 

“That seems to be your philosophy for quite a few situations.” Tormund raises a bushy eyebrow. “Lord Crow.” He shifts off the palisade and mock bows, strutting back to his friends. 

Jon watches him go for only a moment before returning to work- someone has to do it, anyways.

The Lord Commander toils beneath the shadow of the Wall.

[no-gorms]

THE FICLET!!! AMAZING!!!

---

(this one)

Thank you! I have the ficlet saved in my pc as MCU-BelligerentHanahaki.doc 😎

[andthebubbles]

er. ppl posting their bridgerton fics on tumblr make it look so.............. pro.... like, gifs or edits to go with it............ wth /intimidated

[thegoldenavenger]

No one reminded me to xpost this andksksm

Wingfic for ao3's lanadelareina!

[eliotquillon]

don’t normally promo my ao3 xposts of stuff that was originally on here BUT. i actually really really like the existing version of the cameron pining over chase in chicago fic i just wrote and polished it up a bit beyond normal standards. anyway lmk what you think

[dngrcpckwithmurdericing]

comment fic from 2008

I accidentally ended up in a bunch of emails from early 2008, including some LJ comments, including a reply to this comment fic (amongst others, which I suddenly feel like I should post somewhere; maybe xpost AO3 and dreamwidth?); anyway, I thought I would specifically share this one because it’s Gerard/Ray but also it’s soooooooo 2008 lol.

Ray is a big believer in happily ever after. Gerard is... not so much. He thinks things that are easy aren't worth having, and it makes Ray crazy.

Ray is a big believer in happily ever after. Gerard is... not so much. He thinks things that are easy aren't worth having, and it makes Ray crazy. 

"I'm easy," he says one night, poking Gerard in the side. Gerard squirms away, but everywhere he goes, Ray's finger follows. "I'm easy AND I'm worth having."

"You're not easy," mumbles Gerard.

"What?" Ray pokes him again. "I'm totally easy."

"You are NOT. You leave hair all over the place and you -- you --"

"Uh-huh." Ray pokes Gerard's stomach one last time, just for fun, then leans in and kisses him on the neck, on the collarbone. Gerard hates the summer because his skin tans so easily, but it's a good look for him -- better than the sallowness of winter.

"Anyway, happy endings are for kids." Gerard says this into Ray's hair, so Ray can hardly hear him.

"I guess that means I'll be a good dad," Ray finally says, and sinks his teeth into Gerard's throat, and normally Gerard would whine at this, high-pitched, squirmy -- but this time Gerard freezes and pulls away, goes into the bathroom, and locks the door.

"Uh. What? What?" Ray calls, bewildered. "Do you not want kids?"

"I can't <I>have</ikids," yells Gerard through the door.

Oh. <I>Oh.</iBut -- "Are you sure?" calls Ray. He sits up against the headboard of their bed and worries at the corner of his pillow. The foam inside doesn't make the satisfying crackling noises that down pillows do, but they don't have any down pillows for him to pull at.

("Think of the <I>ducks</i>, Ray!" Gerard had said in front of the down pillow display at Target.)

Gerard opens the bathroom door and glares at Ray. "I'm a <I>boy</i>," he says scathingly.

"I... uh... realize that." Ray frowns. What the fuck? "Gerard. I meant I want to have kids with you, not with some <I>girl</i>."

"Boys can't have babies together, Ray." Gerard closes the bathroom door again, and locks it. Ray refuses to do this -- he is <I>not</ithe guy who does this. So he just lies back down on his (foam) pillows, and goes to sleep. When he wakes up the next morning, Gerard is back in the bed, being the little spoon, one hand tucked under his cheek and the other holding onto the hand Ray slung around him in sleep.

[lilacxquartz]

a touch apart;

mr. crawling x f!reader

plot: allowing mr. crawling to get closer, he tries his best to make you happy, trying all sorts of things — themes: oral (receiving), touching, smut, limited dialogue as i tried to keep it how it is in the game — w.c: 0.9k

masterlist • ao3

On the rare occasion that bedrest wouldn’t help you recover, Mr. Crawling would grow equally restless along with you, although more so just confused. In his mind, it would be his fault for not being safe enough for you. He watched over you as you rested, and kept his height to a minimum to ensure your comfort, and yet, you could never relax fully in this place.

In recent times however, you had been allowing him to get closer than usual—more than ever before, in fact. No longer did you react to his spontaneous hugs and head pats by pushing him away, and instead allowed for him to close whatever brief distance you both had. No longer did you also feel surprised to see him there all of the time, doting on you and waiting for you—instead rather, expecting him to be there.

So, when you again, didn’t quite turn him away, he crept closer towards you with a different sort of intention in mind.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but he knew that he wanted to be closer to you, any other sort of reaction was almost unacceptable in his mind.

He reeled you in close, feeling your frame mould to his own like the missing part of a puzzle that he never knew he was missing, finding solace in completing each other.

You sat on the bed, watching as he crawled towards you, stopping right where you sat. His hands wrapped around your legs in a needy hug, resting his head against your thighs. In return, you tried to offer a head pat back, offering soft and soothing languid gestures over his silky black hair.

Mr Crawling’s touches weren’t immediately invasive right away, although his touch dabbled on something slightly beyond just explorative, reaching further beyond than he perhaps meant to go. His ghostly palms slid over your thighs, brushing milky-smooth languid touches along your supple skin. However, immediately retracting his caressing from the moment you tensed up, fearing that he had done something wrong.

In a curious tone, he tried to assess the situation, “Pain here?”

You shook your head, hoping to shake off the creeping blush that settled over your complexion too. You weren’t entirely opposed to him exploring your body in that way, but you also wanted him to understand what he was doing.

Mr. Crawling then paused for a moment before returning his hands to the area once more, intently studying your reaction as he went along. As if mentally logging that your state was flustered, he seemed to register a certain thought in mind, his expression changing from cautious to curious.

“Happy?” he asked instead, his voice very soft.

Stifling your need, you nodded while chewing on your bottom lip.

Understanding the memo, Mr. Crawling carefully slipped his fingers just below your concealed sex, poking a finger inside to study your potential reactions. He seemed to successfully register that touching certain parts of your body meant for unique reactions, which made him feel excited in return, so this was a reaction that he definitely wanted to explore.

Moving forward with a tentative touch, he eventually let you wiggle out of your underwear, dropping the pair to gather right at your ankles. He then moved his fingers a little closer on one hand, using his other palm to spread your legs further apart with an idea in mind.

Slowly, he moved his head forward, propping his tongue out and licking where his fingers parted away at the folded area of your heat, seeking out the area where you were the most responsive. Your clit tingled as he successfully connected to it, biting back a barely contained whimper. Mr. Crawling took note of your flushed state, understanding that this must have been your body’s happy zone, before lapping at it in all sorts of various ways, only repeating the motions that seemed to gather the strongest response.

Such feelings were greatly reciprocated by you as you involuntarily anchored your hand over his raven locks, clawing—grappling tight against his hair—reeling in whatever you could in a fit of feverish need. Mr. Crawling all the while continued to flick his tongue against your sensitive bud, letting your pleasure rise to an almost burning peak—yet only teasingly so. Mr. Crawling, unbeknownst to his fleeting spurs of your own received pleasure, kept pulling back to catch glimpses of your flustered state.

Slowly but surely, you grew closer to your anticipated end, which he seemed to catch onto. Changing things up slightly to keep up with you, Mr. Crawling sped up the motions towards an almost hectic fervour, wanting nothing more than to give you as much of his ‘help’ as he possibly could physically accomplish.

Your thighs soon tightened and clamped shut from such searing anticipation; your fingernails clawing against his scalp as the rolling bliss finally mounted, until at last, the coiling warmth from within the confines of your stomach had at last constricted beyond the point of no return, uncoiling radiating sweeps of pooling pleasure flooded your core, so desperately pent-up, coming undone at long, long last.

Noticing such a reaction, Mr. Crawling appeared to be both happy and confused at your ruffled state, bringing you closer towards him right away, sitting you on the ground with his arms wrapped right around you in a tight hug. He seemed to understand that you greatly enjoyed such a thing but remained confused as to why you looked so distressed—so agitated, almost.

“Happy?” he asked again, his chin resting atop your head.

You breathlessly nodded, leaning into his chest, taking note of his obvious arousal now evidently pressing against you.

A thought entered your mind as you slowly caught your breath again.

Maybe you should return the favour?

[purple-possibilities]

I think I’ve talked abt this before but the first ff I read was Harry Potter fanfiction on this site called elibs. It was used to make ad-libs, but people wrote whatever there (it ranged from fic to original writing to really kinky smut. Like some of the things my friends and I stumbled upon should not have been seen by preteens). My first fic was published there (I think I was 11 at the time, so it was pretty bad lol). Then, people would xpost their stuff on this website called xanga, which basically was like a blog website, where you’d make your own page. I had two pages up on there (one story was in Harry’s era, the other in the marauder’s). Around the same time, people were switching from elibs to quizilla, which was a site for quizzes that quickly became dominated by stories. They had to add a story section of the site bc the writing was so prolific. Again it was a mix of fic, original writing, and like crazy kinky smut. There were no rules, so people posted whatever. Then when I was like 13 a friend introduced me to ffn, and thru that I went to ao3, and then tumblr. I was posting on all those sites. I’ve thought abt posting my old works on ao3 on a dif account just bc like, while the writing is very cheesy, I am proud of my 11 year old self for doing it lol. Baby sibi was also writing original stories from even before I was able to write properly lol. If only I could get some of the mojo back…

[lil-creatorwritings]

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge July 3: Jealousy [Ieyasu Tokugawa]

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Ieyasu Tokugawa x Reader Word Count: 2,211 words Prompt: Untying a bikini top Warning: Pure, unadulterated smut. There is zero plot. Also, modern!AU, cause why not. A/N: Part of @voltage-vixen ’s Summer of Smut Writing Challenge. You can check the original post for the rules and prompts if you’d like to join in as well! So, this is late. My excuse reason is that this one...took off in a really far tangent? Like how somewhere along the way, I didn't know what I was getting into and then it just came out like this. So yeah. But also no, I don't know how to write Ieyasu! This is actually my first time trying to write him and well, I hope I did him some justice because I have no beta (we die like men!!!!).

---

The sun was high up in the sky as you sat underneath the umbrella's shade, determined to build a sandcastle. Today was a lovely day to spend at the beach, enjoying the clear waters and summer breeze. The only reason you were here was because of your lover and the company he worked for. Their latest project had been a huge success and the CEO had arranged this extravagant trip as a reward for their hard work. Fortunately, since they were allowed to invite one guest per member, you were able to tag along.

Though you've only met Ieyasu's co-workers a few times before, usually when the company conducted social events, everyone was quite friendly and welcoming. You were thankful that a few of them had also brought their girlfriends, which made it less awkward knowing that you weren't the only female in this group of men. Plus, you were always up to meeting new people.

"Ah, so this is where you were."

You looked up to find Masamune standing behind you. He was Ieyasu's second in command so to speak and also one of his long time friends since their college days. You've known him since the two of you started dating and eventually become one of your good friends as well.

"Where's Ieyasu? I would've thought that he was with you."

"He went off somewhere, but I'm sure he'll be back soon."

He sat down across from you and smiled. "And left such a pretty girl like you all alone? That's not very nice of him."

"Instead of flattering me, you should help me build this castle. I've always wanted to make one."

Together, the two of you worked to make the sandcastle of your dream. While you were trying to make it taller, you could feel your halter top sliding around a bit every time you extended your arms. Even though you tried to discreetly keep it in place, you were worried that the knot could have loosened from your movements. Looking around, you searched for the nearest changing area or bathroom you could use.

Masamune had immediately noticed your discomfort and paused. "Hm? Something wrong?"

"Yeah, just... Will you excuse me for a bit? I think I need to fix my top."

"I can tie it for you if you're okay with that." He offered, dusting the sand off his hands. "It'll be faster that way, plus we don't want you getting lost in the crowd like that. Or I can walk with you back to the hotel if you want."

You thought about it but you didn't want to just disappear on Ieyasu like that. "Do you mind fixing it for me?"

Nodding his head, he moved behind you as he undid the ribbon you made. You could barely feel his fingers, clutching your top close to your chest as he worked with the strings. Once he was done you slowly raised your arms as a test, happy to see that it wasn't shifting around anymore. "Thanks Masamune!"

"That should hold it throughout the rest of the day, as long as you don't get up to more exciting activities." He said with a suggestive tone.

"Oh shut up, will you." You were used to his antics by this point, laughing as you shook your head. "Come on, help me finish this before Ieyasu comes back."

"Alright, alright. You're quite bossy, aren't you."

By the time you were satisfied with how it looked, you spotted Ieyasu approaching the two of you. You stood up and brushed the sand off your legs, smiling at him as he studied the structure by your feet. "Ah, so this is what you were doing while I was away."

"Yup! I've always wanted to make one of these and Masamune came over to help me with it."

There was a strange expression you saw on Ieyasu's face, but it was so brief that you weren't really sure if it had been there. After taking a photo with it as a remembrance, the two of you headed back to your hotel room for a rest while Masamune went off on his own. You hadn't realized how much actual work it was until you were done, even if you did have some help. Plus the sun was getting too high in the sky, which also meant that it was getting too hot and you didn't want to get any sunburns.

He sat down on the bed and started to open his phone. "You go ahead and shower first. I can wait for you."

You grabbed your clothes and headed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you reached behind your neck. After a few frustrating moments of fiddling around with the strings to no avail, you used the mirror sink to check what was going on. It was quite a dilemma--the top strings were tied to each other and so were the ones on your sides, but what you didn't expect was for the extra length from those two to be connected together with another knot. There was no way you could remove that on your own without needing to cut it, so you decided to ask for help. "Hey Ieyasu, can you help me with this? I can't remove the knot."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"Well... You'll understand when you see it.

"With a quizzical look on his face, he put his phone away and came close, turning you around so he could take a look. The surprise was evident in his voice. "Why did you haphazardly tie it like it? Or rather how did you even manage to do this?"

It had stumped you as well, recalling if anything strange had happened today until it came to you. "Oh! It's Masamune's fault!"

"How is this his fault?"

"Well when we were building the sandcastle together, he helped fix the knots because I said it felt loose. I didn't think that this was what he would do." You pouted, wishing that you had done it yourself instead. "I swear, his hobby is nothing but playing pranks on people."

Silence. You thought that maybe he was busy concentrating, feeling his hand caress your back every now and then. As much as you wanted to avoid cutting it, you would have no choice if it was too difficult to untangle. Waiting for a response, you stood there for a while before speaking. "Ieyasu? We can just snip it if it's too troublesome."

"That's careless of you to let another man do that for you."

The dismay in his tone confused you. "This is Masamune we're talking about here. Do you really think he'd try anything weird with me?"

"You're so clueless. Do you ever stop to think about how your actions look like to other men?" He wrapped his arms around your waist, trapping your arms to your sides. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it as he nipped on your neck. You bit your lip when his fingers teased your nipple, making you shudder when he gave it a gentle tug.

"They can get the wrong impression from you if you're not careful." His voice was gruff, lips pressing warm kisses on the back of your neck. You felt your top slide down as it fell to the floor, gasping when his warm hand caressed your bare chest. "When something catches their interest, they'll relentlessly chase after it until it's theirs and won't let go of it."

Though his words were rough, his actions were the complete opposite. You tilted your head and called his name softly, knowing full well that he would look at you--and he did. His emerald eyes told you what you already knew. "Even so, that doesn't matter to me. Because you're the only one I want, Ieyasu."

As soon as you finished your words, he maneuvered you down on the bed, laying on your back as he hovered over you. Discarding his shirt, he claimed your lips in a hungry kiss, nipping and tugging on your lower lip for permission. You parted them to let his tongue sip inside, deepening the kiss as he made quick work of your bottoms. The last of his clothes soon followed, tossing it away somewhere on the floor.

Fingers stroked your clit in circles, making you jerk up for more. Sliding them further down to tease at your entrance, he slipped inside you and began to thrust. You moaned into his mouth as you moved your hips in time with his hand, trembling when he curled them and found your sweet spot. Pulling away a bit, you noticed his cheeks were a pretty shade of red while his eyes watched you with intense longing.

You reached to wrap your arms around his neck, holding his gaze as you spoke with unabashed desire. "I'm completely yours, so take me."

His eyes widened in surprise as his fingers slowed down. It had looked like he wanted to say something but instead kissed you tenderly, communicating the gentle affection he has for you. You responded back with just as much love you had for him, hoping to chase away the doubts he had.

Easing his fingers out, he rubbed himself along your slick entrance before pushing inside of you, groaning against your skin as your walls squeezed around him. You crossed your legs behind him and rolled your hips up, letting out a sharp gasp when he filled you. With his thumb languidly stroking your clit, he began to thrust at a steady pace. Your body trembled with need as he took his time loving you, sucking on your neck to leave his mark.

It was so much but you wanted more of him, digging your heel into his back as you whimpered. "Ieyasu... please..."

The increased pressure on your sensitive nub made you clamp around his cock, crying out when he moved faster. His free hand slipped behind your waist and hoisted you up, giving him the leverage to reach deeper. With each push you were closer to coming undone, moaning his name with urgency as you gave yourself over to the pleasure, unraveling in his arms. He held you as his movements became unsteady, groaning as he pumped inside you after a few more thrusts.

Ieyasu didn't let go as the two of you took the time to catch your breaths. He slowly lied down on his side, bringing you with him as well before gently easing himself out of you. Lifting his head to look at you, he reached his hand up and caressed your cheek. Even if he didn't say anything, the look on his face had told you everything.

The weekend passed by quickly and before you knew it, it was time to leave. As everyone waited for the van to come around, Masamune came over and hooked his arm on Ieyasu's shoulder. "Man, this trip was real fun wasn't it?"

You nodded. "Mhn. It was a nice break from all the bustle in the city too."

"The huge slide by the water park was the best though. Did you guys try that?"

"No. We had no time to." Ieyasu retorted before his phone rang, taking it out of his pocket to see who it was. He swatted the older man's arm off him before walking off to answer the call. "Nobunaga's calling me. I'll be right back."

"Sure, take your time."

When he left, you noticed that Masamune was looking at you curiously. You tilted your head. "Hm? Is something wrong?"

"No time, huh.." He rubbed his chin before casting his gaze away. "I suppose the two of you were too busy with some other exciting activities in the hotel, weren't you?"

You looked away in hopes that he didn't notice your blush, but the proof was in your silence. Laughing, he reached out to playfully mess with your hair, mentioning the nearby mirror for your hair before walking away. Although you could easily fix it without needing one, you decided to approach it.

When you looked at yourself in it, Masamune's stare now made sense. Your shirt was certainly enough to cover the hickeys that were below your neck as long as you didn't lean over. The ones on the side of your throat, however, were definitely visible with your current hairstyle. You quickly combed your hair down, hoping that no one else had noticed.

Soon enough, you were on your way back home with everyone else. Ieyasu sat beside you, typing something on his phone before asking. "Hm? Why did you put your hair down?"

"Oh. Well, I think it looks better this way, don't you think?"

"Hm. You look fine either way." Reaching his hand out, he trailed a finger down your throat, gently tracing over the marks he made. The simple gesture made you shiver as he leaned in closer, whispering in your ear. "Although, you look best when you're smiling.."

You smiled, tilting your head to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He blushed and looked away to hide his face, turning his attention to the window. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and savoring the warmth of his sweet words.

[yukizakii]

finale

He hates him. He should hate him, but he doesn't. Because this is Kondou’s Shinsengumi that he entrusted to Hijikata, he must protect Hijikata. It has to end this way.

Souji's final moments, and his relationship with Death.

It has to end this way, is what he thinks as he tightens the ripped, dirty strips of cloth around his hand. He bites down on the cloth to hold it in place as he wraps it again around the hilt of his sword, tasting the dirt and blood from the road and battles fought before. It’s unpleasant, and for a moment his stomach seems to want to lurch and cough, but he pushes it down and clenches his teeth to pull the cloth tighter. It doesn’t matter anymore.

All that’s left is for him to die.

Souji isn’t afraid of death, hasn’t been for years. As a child, he had been afraid. He feared the death that had taken away his parents, and forced his sister, Mitsu, to grow up faster than she should have. After his parents’ passing, he had cried for months on end out of fear of Enma, the god of the afterlife, who would surely spirit him away as well. Yet as he had listened to the whispers behind closed doors in his home, his fear had been replaced with guilt. Souji had been young, but he was old enough to be able to draw his conclusions when he heard the tone of voice that came with the words burden and a waste of space. Afterwards, Souji simply felt nothing towards death other than acceptance that he too would meet that same fate someday, and perhaps for the better.

How wrong he had been.

Death was a blessing to him, a fortune. Death had stolen away his parents, but instead it bequeathed meaning into his life: to protect those who he cared the most. What a far cry he was from the hopeless child that had first arrived at the doorstep of the Shieikan, holding his wooden sword devoid of passion. Death was what had led him to Kondou, to begin training at the Shieikan as a live-in student and to find his purpose: To live to kill and be the Shinsengumi’s sword. The more that he wielded his sword and swore to follow the path of a warrior, the more that he realized how much death seemed to intertwine itself in every aspect of his life.

Perhaps Death was a blessing, but it certainly was not kind. When Souji had heard the word tuberculosis escape Dr. Matsumoto’s mouth, his first reaction was to laugh. He had been unable to stop, despite knowing how crazy he must have looked from an outside perspective. Surely this was karma, for the dozens of men he had killed on the battlefield without remorse. How especially thoughtful of Death to try and send him off by withering off his life force with each bloody cough. What mockery it was that the men Souji had killed would live vicariously until the last moment, but Death would not allow him the same grace.

Well, Death could try to take him down like that, but he wasn’t going to win. Death could go fuck itself if it thought it could make him go quietly. To live as a warrior was to walk the line of life and death every day, not knowing what would come next. Souji had embraced the adrenaline that came with the thought of potentially dying every time he raised his sword against another man. He loved the rush he got every time a blade got dangerously close to his face, or the feeling of his lungs heaving as he desperately tried to catch his breath in-between skirmishes. To die as a warrior would be an honor, and wouldn’t it be the most fitting for him to die on the battlefield, just as he had killed so many others?

Mitsu, he thinks, would be disappointed in him. Sad, even. But she will never know, and for the better; he knows that she has her own life and family to worry about during the war. She never did, and never will understand the lifestyle that her young brother chose to live. Souji had kept in touch with his sister sparingly throughout the years, but eventually he had stopped writing truths to her. His last letter a month ago indicated that he was fine, healthy, and participating in the Koyo Chinbutai with the remaining members of the Shinsengumi. He hopes that she will be happy with her life.

Kondou had written a letter to Mitsu as soon as he learned of Souji’s diagnosis, but Souji had been clever enough to have Chizuru intercept it for him. Chizuru-chan, can you offer to take Kondou-san and Hijikata-san’s mail today? Just say that you’re going on rounds with Sano. But give me Kondou-san’s mail. If you don’t do it, I’ll kill you. He remembers her round face staring back at him with confusion, before her features settled into one of sadness and understanding. Within a few hours the letter had been tossed into the fire as its final recipient, Chizuru watching him in silence.

Oh, little Chizuru. Frankly, she shocked him with her kind and selfless demeanor, even in the face of tragedy and death. He had expected her to instantly crumble like a child after witnessing what would be a series of nightmares to any other person, but it seemed that she stood with her back straighter with every harrowing adventure they went through. She was certainly one of, if not the strongest women that Souji had ever met. He thinks ruefully of the day they had first met—that innocent expression on her face had been unforgettable. He remembers the satisfying clink of the weight of his sword shifting as he had pointed it straight at her, and her eyes that seemed almost too large for her face fixating on the sharp tip. What a pity that I might have to kill such a cute little woman, he remembered thinking. But the last time Souji had seen her, he had been shocked by how much she had changed. She had chased after him with a stubbornness and determination that could have only grown out of pain and suffering. Her face had thinned as she had matured and grown, and he noticed that her eyes no longer had the innocent gleam from years before. Gone was that timid girl from that snowy night in Kyoto, replaced by a woman who had seen hurt and death and yet still raised her sword against enemies with them with unwavering loyalty.

That person is lucky to have her by his side.

Being in the Shinsengumi had changed them all more than they could have ever imagined. Souji and the Shieikan crew had always dreamed of being real warriors, but dreams could not have prepared them for reality. Kenjutsu practices turned to fights to the death, and bruises from wooden swords turned into nasty wounds that required stitches. Rumors, petty fights, and politics became daily roadblocks that they were forced to become accustomed to. The introduction of the Ochmizu and Rasetsu was perhaps the worst of all. But no matter how difficult things became, Kondou had remained kind and soft with every man and soldier, just as he had treated Souji as a student at the Shieikan. It was Kondou’s kindness, heart and unrivaled warrior spirit that made him a fitting leader of the Shinsengumi. Unlike that man.

That man, Souji thinks. That man’s name makes his blood want to boil, and when he thinks of his name now he subconsciously clenches his fist. Selfish, bilious, rude, and a man who had left Kondou to die.

But if Kondou had been the head of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata was the backbone and the spine that held it together. Kondou was a skilled orator and had the charisma and presence of a leader, but he was a gentle romanticist who liked to consult the books. On the other hand, Hijikata was all sharp edges and pragmatic, and a genius when it came to creating strategies that were critical to success. Even in the early days of the Shieikan, Hijikata had always been unyielding and harsh, allowing no one to talk down his dreams of hanging up his medicine box and taking a sword. When the opportunity had come to leave Edo and journey to Kyoto to join the Roshigumi, Hijikata had been the first to pull together the crew to plan their departure and involvement.

The Shieikan was where he grew up, but it was the Shinsengumi that became his home. When Souji thinks of the words family, he thinks of the Shinsengumi—and it is a family built by Kondou. For that reason alone, the Shinsengumi had been worth laying down his life for, all of these years. Souji thought himself as nothing more than a sword, and it was an honor to kill and bring death upon those that threatened the Shinsengumi’s progress. But beyond the skirmishes and public work associated to their name, there was a man who had shouldered burden after burden and rallied day and night for their success. The Shinsengumi and Kondou only rose to where it was today, because of Hijikata’s drive and leadership.

Souji knows that without Hijikata, there is no Shinsengumi. And because this is Kondou’s Shinsengumi that he entrusted to Hijikata, he must protect Hijikata. It has to end this way.

I heard that Hijikata Toshizou is staying in the inn in the next town over. Looks like he’s injured and only has one other companion with him. This will be an easy kill.

He hates him. It’s his fault that Kondou died, so he should hate him. He hates him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t hate him. Though he would never admit it out loud, Hijikata has always been like a brother to him. A bitter and sour one for sure, but like a brother nonetheless. When Souji had fallen ill, Hijikata had somehow always been the first one to scold him to go back to bed and to order Chizuru to make him medicine or soup. Souji had teased him—What are you, a mother bird hovering over her hatchlings? Really, you don’t have to seem so worried about me, Hijikata-san. Despite their constant bickering and harsh words throughout the years, Souji knows that he is a gentle, caring man beneath the demon-like exterior. But more than that, he knows that Hijikata loves the Shinsengumi more than anyone else.

Souji does not have much time left to give to the Shinsengumi, but Hijikata does. Souji cannot allow him to die. It has to end this way.

The lamps go off from the enemy, and he is alerted back to the present from his thoughts. He lets go of the cloth from his teeth, and drops his arms to his side. His right hand is now his sword—fitting now, that his body is now one with his sword. He closes his eyes, and breathes in the fresh night air. He lets his mind go blank, and draws on the power stored within his body to turn him into a Rasetsu. For the first time in months, he feels the air and power rush through his lungs and fill every space in his body with unbound strength; tuberculosis suddenly feels like nothing but a distant memory.

In the face of Death, he feels more alive than ever.

He steps into the moonlight, and hears murmurs from the men as they look at him. Gunshots whiz through the air, but he sidesteps them so easily. He hears the familiar Who the hell are you being shouted into the night, and his lips curl into a smile. Would these be his last words? How fitting, because he would absolutely love nothing more.

“My name is Okita Souji, the 1st captain of the Shinsengumi!”

Tonight, for the last time, he will be the Shinsengumi’s sword. Okita Souji smiles, and allows himself to fall into the familiar embrace of the battlefield.

Goodbye, Hijikata-san.

[unforth]

@xieliansbignaturals is doing a prompt event on Mastodon and I really need to remember to xpost my microfic fills here.

Here's the first. (Hualian, canon compliant, prompt: power)

-

On reflection, Xie Lian feels the best part of being with Hua Cheng is that he doesn't need to be careful. Every day for 800 years, he's had to restrain himself: don't grab too strongly, touch too roughly, push too hard, move too fast. But Hua Cheng is his equal in power, and when it's the two of them, Xie Lian can behave as he will, can embrace, hold, thrust, kiss, touch, touch, touch.

For the first time in his long life, Xie Lian can simply be.

[izzybellgee]

Wolf in the Daylight (Part 1)

Link to Part 2

Fandom: Destiny 2 Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Eido & F!Guardian, minor established F!Guardian/Mithrax Tags: hurt/comfort

Summary: Eido is stunned by what she learns about her father after their parley with Eramis. Sonora would like to be there for her as best she can, grappling with it all herself.

Spoilers for Week 5 story of Season of the Plunder.

A/N: I meant to have a longer piece out before this one to introduce Sonora, but I'm too antsy to get this out while its relatively timely. (The other piece is set during season of the splicer)

Sonora-9 is an exo hunter, and uses she/her pronouns. Her ghost, Echo, uses xe/xem pronouns. Jack, mentioned briefly, is a fellow guardian.

Set immediately after the parley with Eramis.

.

.

.

For once, Echo is silent in the jumpship. They sit in the ship for a long moment, and Echo just watches her as Sonora shakes her head.

Xe speak. “Are you surprised?”

“Not really.”

“I didn’t think so.” Xe watch Sonora begin plugging in the coordinates for home, and sigh. “What are you thinking, Nora?”

“I’m thinking about Eido. He should have told her.”

“He should have told you.”

“He should have told her, Echo.” Sonora’s voice is firm. Her sidearm sits on the console, just where she left it before the parley. Echo watches Sonora slot it back onto her hip, the pink lines of power glowing on it in the low light. “Telling me is optional.”

“I disagree.”

“You’re welcome to.”

“You should have known too. He already knows your demons.”

“I haven’t been thrown out of the City for mine, nor am I at risk. Nor am I in charge of a settlement of people. Or protecting a child.”

“Eido is grown.”

“It was a turn of phrase. I know she can handle herself, but after watching that, I’m certain Misraaks is only now seeing just how grown up she is.”

“But don’t you think- Hold on.” Echo turns from her and Sonora watches until xe turn back. “Sonora, transmission coming in.”

“It can wait.” Busy at the moment, Jack.

“From Eido.”

Not Jack. “Nevermind. Connect us.”

“It’s one-way.” Sonora and Echo share a confused look.

“Let’s hear it then.”

Echo opens the line.

The speakers on the other side are instantly obvious. Sonora and Echo share a horrified look.

“I did not have to hear it from her. That was your choice.” Eido’s voice is stern.

“That was not a story Eramis had any right to tell.” Misraaks sounds nearly as upset as he had been when he threatened to dock Spider’s arms.

“Did you believe that I would never find out? That no one would remember? I’m charged with preserving the history of our people!”

“Some history does not need to be preserved.” There is pain in his voice as he speaks, and Sonora grimaces.

“Like the Whirlwind? So much was lost; so much we will never recover, no matter how much we search… no matter how much we remember.” A shifting sound of fabric tells them that Eido is recording in secret. They look at each other again. “Is that what you wish to happen to us now?”

“You do not understand.”

“I want to understand. You will not let me!” Eido’s voice clips on the line as she raises her voice.

“You do not know what I know! You did not see what I saw!” Misraaks pauses. “When I pulled you from the wreckage of a Ketch, I knew that you deserved more than the world that orphaned you. I want you to look forward! Not to what the Whirlwind made us. You do not need to carry this history.”

They both stop, and for a moment, Sonora believes they’re finished.

They’re not.

Eido sighs. “It is a part of me, whether I witnessed it or not. I don’t want to look away, and I don’t want to forget.”

“You do not know what you ask.” His voice is so low, it’s nearly lost.

“Perhaps not. But nothing good comes from refusing to face the truth.”

With that, the line cuts.

“That was…” Sonora starts.

“That was bad.” Echo finishes.

As Sonora begins setting the coordinates once more, Echo settles into her hood.

“Where are we going, Nora?”

“Where else?”

.

Sonora tracks Eido back to the Eliksni quarter.

“You don’t want to talk to the big guy?”

“I do. Later.” Sonora’s mind wanders to Misraaks, but she refocuses. “Eido’s more important at the moment.”

Sonora steps out into the Botza district and there is a pall of silence over those she passes. They regard her with nods and looks, but no words.

She finds Eido on the overlook beside the Ether Tank. Sonora approaches slowly, as she notices the young woman’s hood is down. She hears a chatter that she knows isn’t a happy sound, and clears her throat. Tries to.

Eido glances her way, then hastily pulls her hood back up. “Sonora!”

“Hey.”

“I… I did not hear your approach.”

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you… We heard your… message.”

“We? Oh, Echo. Good, good. I wanted to speak with you at some point… but this is better than over the transponder.”

“Agreed.”

The two of them look at each other, and Eido crosses both sets of arms, putting a hand under her chin.

“Misraakskel of House Light… My father… a murderer and a liar.” She sounds so deflated as she starts. “I am… beyond disappointed. That my father’s past is one so grim hurts… but not nearly as sharp as the pain of knowing he hid it from me. He didn’t tell me earlier and I had to hear it from Eramiskel.”

“He should have been the one.” Sonora agreed, her arms crossed against her chest. Echo shifted against her neck, but kept quiet.

“I… I was aware he had a past, but in a way, Eramiskel showed me who my father is today… and who he sees when he looks at me. I don’t like the implications of either possibility I can think of.”

“Which are?” Sonora asks evenly.

“He must think I am… unable to understand… either that or he doesn’t care whether or not I do. Underestimated or dismissed in his eyes.”

Sonora suppresses a wince at that. Eido either doesn’t notice or sees and ignores it, turning around and continuing on.

“And no matter which is true, the lesson I draw from it is the same: my own father does not want me to know him.”

“He thinks the world of you, Eido. He’d move heaven and earth for you, if he could.”

“Then why hide this from me? Put me at such a distance?”

“I’m not saying he was right to hide all this. He wasn’t. Not from you.” She feels Echo shift against her neck pointedly, and ignores xem.

“Sonora, why are you so calm? My father kept the truth from you as well! His mate!” Eido turns to her quickly, the young eliksni’s arms open in question and eyes wide with anger. Sonora watches her, glancing at the girl’s hands. They’re stained from her tinkering and recording.

Oil stains, ink stains.

Sonora sighs.

“Because I’m not the one he was trying to hide it from.” Eido looks to start again, but Sonora shoots her a sharp look and continues. “I can’t judge your father for his past. I won’t. I’d be a hypocrite, condemning his choice to hide away from that life while doing the same bloody work today.”

“My father’s past… conquest and your mission are not the same. You fight for the City, for the humans and eliksni within it-”

“That’s the reason for what I do… but… you’ve seen my work, Eido. It doesn’t look all that different.” Sonora throws her hands up and drops them, feeling drained herself.

“I don’t think the way he treated this situation was right. The way he treated you.” Sonora points at Eido as she speaks. “His actions today may change some ways I see him, but his past doesn’t really affect what I admire about him.”

“His vision.” Eido muttered.

“And his commitment to making things better. Making things right.” Sonora adds quickly, seeing the droop in Eido’s shoulders. Sonora steps toward her, and puts a hand on her arm. “He has things to answer for, Eido. And those answers belong to you.”

“...Thank you, Sonora.” Eido shifts her mask with one hand, before pulling Sonora into a hug that reminds the hunter just how tall she isn’t around eliksni. As they pull back from one another, Eido’s eyes have that signature squint of her smile. “But you deserve those answers too. Father owes them to you as well.”

“You first, Eido.”

Link to Part 2

[earlyspringtranscendence]

desperately in need of one of those truly lifechanging fics that are mostly about interpersonal dynamics and messy inside feelings but like i need it to be abt wrestling . why isnt there a tab on ao3 thats specifically for these kinds of fics. why cant you sort by ‘# of days this is gonna put u outta commission for’