#me writing canon compliant fluff? so off brand

[loviatarsluv]

Would That I (2)

“True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me

That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree

Must be felled for to fight the cold”

(all credits to the op of this gorgeous pic of my wizard <3)

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place in an AU where the absolute and the cult basically don't exist so this is non-canon compliant, I guess)

rating: sfw, this one is pretty much purely fluff and angst

CW: yearning and pining, gale being very sweet and the gentleman he is, nasty drunk man saying nasty things, slight s*xual harassment, hurt/comfort, gale being protective, tara being tara

in summary: Elara and Gale plan to go to the market and spend the day together, which is cut short unexpectedly. nothing is ever easy for the two of them, it seems.

a/n: I’m torturing myself with this tbh I love a slow burn but GOD I just wanna write sweet romantic smut about the wizard already!!!

word count: 7.8k

Springtime in Waterdeep had to be one of the most breathtaking things she’d ever seen. 

The way the dogwood trees bloomed and blossomed in gorgeous shades of pink and pastel hues, the way the flowers that had been dormant during the colder months were now full of life and bursting with color, the way the sun shone so much brighter and the breeze felt like a warm but gentle embrace. 

Everything seemed to come alive with a brand new vigor— the streets were full again, the sounds of children running and playing as well as the Waterdhavian locals just existing and enjoying the sunshine for the first time in months echoed off the sides of the stone buildings that lined the streets. The faint melodic strumming of a lyre could be heard not too far from the Dekarios residence, as a bard occupied a spot just outside one of the nearby taverns and busked for coins throughout the day. 

She caught the end of a familiar tune as she approached the large window in her bedroom— a song that she remembered her mother singing to her before bed. One of the last vivid memories she had left of her. 

Elara hoped maybe they would pass the bard on their way to the market so she could toss them a few gold pieces. 

She gazed out over the expanse of the ocean and hummed along to the song until its eventual end, smiling somberly to herself and adjusting her dress to ensure it was perfect, before pulling on her boots and grabbing the basket she uses to gather fruits and vegetables at the market. 

It had been quite a while since she’d been able to wear her favorite dress, and today was the perfect weather, the perfect day, for her to finally bring it out again. She paces past the full length mirror in the corner of the room, stopping briefly and double checking her reflection. Her hair was mostly loose, half of her dark waves flowing along her shoulders and back and half of it tied back with a silver pin that adorned the shape of a mermaid, to keep it out of her eyes. Her dress fell right around her knees, the light blue fabric having small golden flecks throughout it as if stars were scattered across it. The neckline was low but not incredibly revealing, and it fit her waist and shoulders perfectly. She always felt so beautiful in this dress. It was her mother’s before she passed. One of her only other memories of her mother was seeing her twirling in the mirror as she tried the dress on for the first time. 

She always hoped that she could be as beautiful as her mother was when she got older. She wished that she could’ve been around to see her in it as she wore it now, but somehow whenever she put it on, she could feel her presence in the room. She could almost still smell the roses and sandalwood that used to linger on the collar of the dress.

Gale waited patiently for her downstairs as she got ready for their outing, busying himself by sitting at the table and reading the local news. He had to admit that he was quite elated to be accompanying her to the market today— feeling a sense of relief when she said yes when he asked her the day prior after her previous denial of his last invitation for an outing. He hoped she wasn’t doing it out of pity, but figured if she truly didn’t want to go that she would’ve just said so or made another excuse. 

He essentially jumps at the sound of her footsteps bounding down the stairs, standing quickly and straightening his clothes before she appears from the staircase, adjusting himself and ensuring nothing was askew or out of place. He smooths his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear and adjusts his sleeves just before she emerges from the staircase. 

He had to remind himself many times that this excursion was nothing more than a quick trip to the market— but it did little to quell the sweat beads rising in his palm and the buzzing in his stomach. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with her that felt like they were both choosing to. It almost always felt like they just happened to end up in the same room as each other by chance, rather than choosing to be in whatever room the other occupied just to be near them. If it were up to him, he would remain at her side every moment that her eyes were open and even while they were closed. But it wasn’t up to him. Not entirely, at least. 

He was only waiting for the right moment, or any sort of notion that she was even slightly interested— then, he would— well, do something. He hadn’t really thought that far yet. 

Now may be an apt time to start, though.

“Sorry I took so long, I had to make sure I had everything so we can stock up and last us a little longer.” She says, gesturing to the two wicker baskets draped over her arms. 

So this is what bards sing about so wistfully. This is what the love-stricken authors had in mind whilst they wrote hundreds of pages of longing and languishing— the beautiful girl that could make an entire room full of people’s heads turn in her direction just upon her entry, with long silken hair and stars in her eyes and on her dress. 

He’s rendered completely speechless, which was not a common occurrence for Gale. His heart flutters and pounds as she smiles at him expectantly, awaiting him to let her know that he was ready to leave as well. 

She notices him staring and glances down at herself, frowning. “Is it too much? It’s just so nice out, I thought, what better day for my favorite dress?” 

He’s completely transfixed by her, he almost doesn’t catch her words before he finally returns to reality after soaring through the clouds. He shakes his head almost in disbelief. 

“Not at all. You look… radiant, Elara.” He says, his voice low and reverent, as if he were admiring a painting hung in a gallery. 

A blush rises to her cheeks as she tries to fight off the widest smile she’d probably ever smiled. “Thank you. You look… handsome.” She replies, mimicking his phrasing and making him chuckle quietly.

“Why, thank you, my lady,” he says with a bow, then holds his hand out as an invitation for hers. She timidly places her hand in his, and he presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we?” 

She’s taken aback by the gesture, her already intense blush only becoming ever more prominent and persistent, the heat in her cheeks beginning to feel as though she may burn up before they even make it outside. 

She nods slowly, then follows his lead out the door, her hand lingering in his until they reach the front door steps. She takes a few steps ahead of him and tries to steady her breathing, as he quickly casts Arcane Lock on the door before rejoining her. 

They walk side by side in silence for a little while, both of them happily drinking in the sights surrounding them. Elara is still buzzing from Gale’s earlier comment and the sensation of his lips against her skin lingered on the back of her hand— they were so soft. Like rose petals. She could hardly focus on anything but their softness, even while the scratch of his beard tickled her skin. 

Radiant. He’d never complimented her like that before. In fact, she wasn’t sure anybody ever had. Not anyone that ever mattered enough to remember at least. 

But Gale— gods, she’d write it in the stars if she could. She would paint the night sky with each syllable in only the most dazzling of stars, the brightest she could find— so that every night she could remember the way it sounded dripping from his tongue like honey. 

A single word had never filled her entire body with a warmth that the sun could never provide. She felt as though she could fly if she really wanted to. 

Radiant.

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever asked you, but how have you enjoyed Waterdeep?” He asks, slowing his pace slightly to accommodate her, her legs being shorter than his so her shorter strides made her fall behind. 

He had asked, a few times. But that was months ago when it was all still new. Plus— her answer had changed considerably since the last time he asked. 

“I love it. It is so beautiful here. I certainly don’t miss Rivington.” She jokes, a soft melodic giggle following. Gale’s heart flutters. 

“There’s nothing quite like witnessing the changing of the seasons in Waterdeep. I’m happy to provide that experience for you, even under somewhat strange circumstances.” He replies, gesturing to the air around them. 

She smiles sheepishly and averts her gaze to the cobblestone beneath her feet as they continue to walk. “Thank you, for that, by the way. For… letting me stay with you. I know it’s not ideal, to have essentially a stranger in your home, and I don’t know if I’ve ever properly thanked you for it before, so,” she rambles, trying with everything in her not to look at his face out of fear of what she might see. 

He places a soothing hand on her arm, his fingertips featherlight against her flesh as she slowly runs them along the length of her bicep before returning to his side. 

“No need to thank me. Your presence has been a delightful change around here, one that was unexpected, but welcome nonetheless.” 

When she finally breaks and looks up at him, the warm and mirthful smile on his face nearly turns her legs to jelly, but she would happily melt under the sunshine that was his gaze. 

Before she can attempt to craft a response to him, a commotion is heard ahead, and both of their attention snaps to it. A crowd has begun to form near the front of the nearby tavern, and not a single intelligible word could be made out of the raucous whooping within the crowd of presumably day drunk patrons and bystanders craning their necks to watch whatever was taking place in the center of it. She furrows her brows, suddenly remembering the bard she heard that morning, and hoping they’d been able to avoid the commotion. She watches closely for a moment before she feels Gale’s guiding hand on her back, urging her to go in a different direction, any other direction. 

“Come, let’s push on. Tara will be waiting for us, and trust me when I say she is not the most pleasant when she’s been kept waiting,” he says, his voice low next to her ear. It was a throwaway excuse to pull her away from the ruckus and to safety to avoid potentially getting swept into a hysteria she needn’t get swept into. 

If her mind hadn’t been so preoccupied by whatever was happening in front of them, she’d have been blushing furiously at the position of his hand, just above the small of her back. Something to try not to think too much about later. 

Her eyes flick to him for an instant before she hears what sounded like a lyre being smashed against the side of the bricked building. Her head snaps in that direction, and the crowd parts in just the right way for her to see a young tiefling crumpled to the ground with his face in his hands, and an older human man above mocking him, gripping part of the smashed instrument in one of his fists. 

Her face twists to a deep grimace, and before she can stop herself her feet are carrying her forward, her pace quickening. Gale calls to her from behind, his voice distant and nearly inaudible over the loud pounding and drumming of her heart in her ears. The crowd has begun to disperse only slightly, but a handful of people still linger and are either cheering on the older man or encouraging the tiefling to stand and fight. The tiefling’s shoulders shake and tremble as he cowers away from the inebriated brute towering over him, bellowing nonsense.

The man stands above what she can now see is merely a child, no older than thirteen, shouting taunts of profanity and cruelty that she tries her damnedest to disregard so as to not use her very limited knowledge of magic to send him onto his ass as she approaches the child, kneeling before him. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft so as to not startle him. She places a gentle hand on his arm, coaxing him into looking up at her. “Are you okay?” 

Before he can respond, the booming of the perpetrator’s slurred mockery echoing throughout the small alleyway interrupts them both. 

“Oi, missy! Careful, the little foulblood’ll snatch yer coin purse when ye ain’t lookin’!” 

He looks at her with desperate eyes, his yellow tinted irises beginning to gloss over again as new sobs begin to wrack through his fragile looking body. “I didn’t— I swear, I didn’t do a-anything.” 

She searches his face for any sign of deceit, noticing the faint scar that ran along his cheek from his eye to the corner of his lip that looked like it had only healed somewhat recently. His body language resembles that of a frightened pup in a cage and his tears seem genuine, so she offers him a reassuring smile. “I believe you.” 

“‘M talkin’ ta ye, missy! Ye got shit for manners too?” The man yells again, the sound of the broken instrument clattering to the ground following it. 

She continues to ignore him, her stubborn nature refusing to let this drunkard intimidate her as she assumes that’s exactly what he wants, he wants to feel bigger than himself, and thus why he was picking on a child and a woman— easy targets for his drunken tirade. 

Her ignorance sets the man off into a blind rage, and she barely has a second to comprehend the situation before she hears a grunt of fury and large hands crash into the side of her body, surely bruising her ribs with the force it took to shove her to the ground, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. She yelps as stone scrapes across her bare arm and the side of her head collides with the ground. The tiefling jumps backward and out of the line of fire of the older man’s warpath, eyes wide and boring into hers in terror. 

“Elara!” Gale calls out, pushing through the now dense crowd frantically. 

He finally makes it through, and the very second his eyes lock on her as she attempts to sit up, blood running down the side of her forearm and one hand clutching her ribs as the other presses over the tender spot where her skull met stone, fire burns through his veins. He’s at her side in an instant, gathering her up into his arms and holding on to her tightly. 

“Are you alright?” He asks her, his voice cracking with concern. 

She nods, then glances between him and the child backed against the wall, her main focus still on ensuring his safety. She motions to the child for him to stand with her, and Gale steps in front of them both protectively as he turns to face the drunkard. 

“‘S that yer boyfriend, eh, girly? Wanna know how it feels t’ be with a real man?” The man cackles, stumbling forward as he belly laughs at his own vile taunts. 

Gale’s composure is slipping and he feels heat in the center of his palm as it begins to emit a faint and crackling orange glow. His fingers twitch against the effort it takes not to hurl a fire bolt right at the bastard’s cocky face, but it seemed he wouldn’t have to as the man notices the faint glow of fire in Gale’s palm and begins to back away, fear etching into his weathered and sunburnt features. 

He raises his hands in surrender, then quickly rounds the corner and dashes down the alley without another word, and the wizard relaxes his hand, dispelling the cantrip from his palm. 

The air is still crackling with tension as the three of them try to steady their breathing, Gale in particular finding it difficult as the sight of her on the ground and her sweet face that, prior to this entire encounter, had been adorned with a smile that could stop a charging Minotaur in its tracks, twisted in pain and a gash on her arm. Not to mention the disgusting comment that foul—

Deep breaths. 

The crowd slowly begins to disperse, some eyeing Gale wearily as they begin to back away, some pointing at him and whispering to their counterparts, no doubt recognizing him as the great Gale of Waterdeep. Eventually they, too, depart, leaving only two of them and the tiefling who was still cowering behind Elara, gripping the back of her dress as if he would fall through a crack in the ground without her anchoring him. 

Gale spins around and cups Elara’s face gently, his umber eyes teeming with distress and a bit of anger as they scan her face for any further signs of injury or harm. Her icy blue eyes were glossy but he could see the restraint as she held back any tears from actually spilling. 

Gods, she has the most beautiful eyes. 

“Are you well? Did he hurt you? Is your head okay?” He asks frantically, the words tumbling from his lips in rapid succession as he gently turns her head to check each side of her face. 

She swallows hard and tries not to get lost in the way his strong but elegant hands feel on her skin as he fusses over her, and places her hand over one of his in an attempt at calming his distraught babbling. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she shushes him, placing her other hand on his arm. “Everything is fine.” 

Gale frowns. “It is most certainly not fine, you hit your head and you’re bleeding. We should head back and clean that up, I’ll just run to the market tomorrow—”

“Gale.” She coos, cutting his rambling short.

He stops, his entire body stilling and a heat creeping to his cheeks. Reality washes over him again as he blinks out of his worrisome daze, and realizes his hands still on her cheeks, and her hand over his— oh, hells, her hands are so soft, so warm— and slowly begins to pull away. She nods her head in the direction of the child attached to her hip, reminding him that they had company still. He takes a deep breath and glances around, likely looking to see if he catches a glimpse of that bastard and hoping that he was still within range for him to send a witch bolt his way. He’s unable to hide his disappointment when his search is fruitless. 

The child’s eyes widen when Gale turns once again to face them and sighs deeply, his shoulders sinking low when all of the air exits his lungs, his body seeming to shrink with his posture. He slams his eyes shut tight, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking slow and steady breaths to calm himself. 

“Mystra, give me strength.” He murmurs under his breath.

Elara ignores the disgruntled wizard at her side, leaning down slightly to be closer to the smaller tiefling’s height. 

Elara smiles reassuringly and places her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you okay?” 

The child stares up at her, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the man brooding behind her. 

“He’s with me, it’s alright.” She says, making her best attempt at a soothing and calm tone despite her voice wavering. 

The tiefling’s eyes dart to the wreckage that is left of what was once his instrument, and his frown deepens. “My lyre…” 

She follows his gaze, wincing when she sees the extensive damage. She could tell instantly upon inspection even from a distance that there was no repairing it, and it would simply need to be replaced. She offers him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. What was once what appeared to be a beautiful instrument, was now shattered into several jagged pieces, sprawling across the ground around them. She frowns, feeling regretful for its owner but also for herself— an echo of a memory from this morning when she heard her favorite song being strummed by it reverberating in her mind. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him. 

He bounces back and forth heel to toe, his hand behind his back timidly. His peach-tinted skin contrasts the dark mop of curls atop his head, with two small horns peeking out of them. He’s quite slender, but still has the tiny bit of pudge that a prepubescent child would have, his cheeks round and youthful. He reminds her of one of her adoptive cousins that she’d only seen occasionally when her aunt would make an all too rare appearance— she hadn’t seen the rest of her family since she was around his age. 

“Dex.” He says meekly, his face downcast and defeated as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dex. I’m Elara, and this—” she motions to the man behind her. “is Gale.”

Gale’s attention snaps to her at the sound of his own name, clearly having been mentally elsewhere during the entire exchange. He meets the uncertain gaze of the child, and bows slightly, offering a warm smile. Dex smiles back, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the gesture. 

“Thank you, for helping me. I’m s-sorry you got hurt,” he points to her bloodied elbow and forearm, reminding her of the stinging sensation biting at her nerves shallowly within her skin. She winces but tries her best to disregard it. 

“I think I’ll live. I’m sorry about your lyre.” She says, motioning to the scattered wooden debris and frayed strings. 

He shrugs. “I’ll live.” 

She chuckles, her smile widening. Gale watches her with this unfamiliar child that she had no real reason to be so kind to, other than just out of the boundless kindness of her heart, and feels that warm twinge in his chest he’d grown all too familiar with since she made her grand entrance in his life. His heart skips several beats and the urge to whisk her away and kiss her on the stoop like he’d previously imagined becomes harder and harder to resist each passing second.

“Well, Dex. I think you’d best get going home. It’ll be dark before too long and I’m sure your parents will be worried. Hm?” She tries on her best schoolteacher voice, placing her hands on her hips. 

Dex sighs, his entire body shrinking at the mention of his parents. “I don’t want to go home without my lyre… they’ll be furious at me.”

She pauses for a moment, then shoots Gale a pleading glance, hoping he has any bright ideas that could magically fix everything for this poor child. She looked at him as if the child were a lost kitten that she was begging him to let her bring home. 

He looks toward the sky pensively for a moment, appearing as if he were doing calculations in his head, then wordlessly and effortlessly waves his hand in a flourish, whispering an incantation that reassembles the lyre with a purple hued fog of weave. 

Dex’s widened eyes sparkle with glee as each of the fractured pieces of the instrument rejoin as if they’d never been apart to begin with. The lyre floats toward the child, basked in violet and sapphire light, landing gently into his still shaky grasp. Gale smiles and nods at the boy as the light fades, his eyes gleaming with a hint of pride. 

“Weeping bleeding hells! How did you do that?!” He chirps, turning the lyre in his hands and inspecting each and every inch of it in search of any cracks or imperfections, then smiling a wide toothy grin, his pointed teeth peeking over his lips when there is not a single dent or scratch to be found. 

Gale chuckles, then pats the boy on the shoulder. “Stay out of trouble, young man. Hopefully next time we see you will be under better circumstances.” 

The young tiefling glances back to Elara, the exuberant expression on his face contrasting the tear stains still present on his cheeks. Before she or Gale have any time to react, he throws his body between them, wrapping his tiny arms around the both of them as best as he could manage, and nuzzling his face into Elara’s arm. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” He says as he pulls away and turns to leave, glancing over his shoulder and waving to them one last time before scurrying off. 

She watches the boy disappear into the distance, skipping along the cobblestone streets with a childish glee that fills her with a wistful sensation— to be that young and for everything to be so new, for something as simple as a fixed lyre to make her completely forget any hurt or pain that had befallen her. She envies him, silently, as she watches him run home to his parents surely to regale everything that happened to him today, just as she wished she’d been able to every time something exciting happened to her during the day. 

Gale notices her sudden shift in demeanor, then places a hand placatingly on her uninjured arm. 

“Elara?” His voice is gentle and tepid, cautious. “Allow me to help you with this,” he says, motioning to the still leaking wound on her arm. “Let’s head back.” 

She sighs, turning to him but unable to muster a genuine smile, still taken by real memories and those that never came to pass. Her lips curl, but her eyes remain glossy and sullen. She nods, the motion small and nearly imperceptible. Without another word, they head back to the tower, her arm never leaving the comfort of Gale’s hand as they walk. 

Something so simple, something that could mean nothing. But to her, it meant everything. 

~

The scent of balsam and sandalwood fills the room as Gale’s adept fingers gently clean the scrape on her arm, his eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together in deep focus. He pestered her until he could coax her into sitting right in this seat where he could tend to her, much to her protest as she insisted she could do it herself and that he needn’t worry about her. 

Stubborn wizard, she grunted as he gently guided her to sit. He did not regard any of her disgruntled murmurs, her insistence that she was fine and not to worry. 

Just as she’d helped that boy on the street, he felt the least he could do is take gentle care of her the way she would anyone else. He wondered if anyone aside from Alastor had ever done so for her, her insistence on taking care of it herself giving him pause. Had she always had to pick herself up? Had no one ever swept in and dusted her off when she fell? 

He would. From now forward. Even if it were something as small and simple as rubbing balsam on the angry and gashed skin of her arm and wrapping it with the softest cloth he could find. He would be that for her. He would be anything for her, should she ask. 

It wasn’t lost on him how intimate of a gesture it was, to treat another’s wounds, either— he couldn’t deny that he simply just wanted to care for her in a way that felt deeper than just feeding her and providing a bed for her to sleep in. 

“That was incredibly admirable of you, back there. Stepping in like that. That boy won’t soon forget what you’ve done for him.” He says, his tone reverent and almost thankful. 

She smiles a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “He seemed like a sweet kid. And I would hope someone would do the same if it were me, in his shoes.” 

She says it, but she realizes that Gale sort of had done the same for her— the way he stepped in and made the man back off. The way he stood in front of them protectively, blocking them with his body as if he were willing and ready to take whatever blows aimed at her in her place. 

“He’ll remember you, too,” she continues, her breath slightly catching as he begins to wrap the cloth around her arm, and wincing as the fabric brushes against the tender skin. “You kind of saved him twice. Saved him from a drunkard and an angry lecture from his parents.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head causing a stray strand of hair to fall into his eyes as he does. “I suppose so. You took care of all the heavy lifting, though. I just helped with the clean up.” 

She fights herself and her need to push that hair out of his eyes. Would that be too intimate? Would that push things too far? 

Her eyes lock on the strand as she speaks. “You did your own heavy lifting, for my sake. Thank you. For stepping in. And for this,” she motions to where his hands are gently tying off the ends of the cloth. “Even though you didn’t have to.” 

He finishes tying a very delicate but sturdy bow, then sits back slightly, still close enough to see every detail of her face as clearly as he could see his own in a mirror when he was close enough, and eyes her for a moment, a smile ghosting on the edges of his lips. 

“To do something for someone doesn’t always have to be borne of necessity or desire for reciprocity. I wanted to.” 

His face was so close, she could nearly feel his breath whispering across the flushed skin of her cheeks. She wants to say thank you again, but finds that every single word in her vocabulary has escaped her as she basks in this closeness and the way she can see the reflection of the flickering candle beside her in his dark eyes that still managed to seem so bright with the way they twinkled as he looked at her. 

Had he always looked at her this way? Why did this feel so different? 

“Can I ask you something?” He breaks the silence but not the tension as their gazes stay locked. 

She nods, still trapped in the daze of the intimacy of the moment. 

“Earlier, I couldn’t help but notice— and feel free to disregard my asking, if I’m overstepping— you seemed a little… off. When the boy ran off. You looked pensive.” 

She swallows hard despite her throat feeling dry, her entire body tensing at his questioning. The emotions of the day had fluctuated so immensely and the mention of the culmination of it all in that moment only serves to bid them to return in full force. A pit forms in her stomach and she feels the urge to retreat. 

“Perhaps a story for another time. I’m… it’s alright.” She tries to maintain composure, despite her words wavering upon delivery. She offers Gale that same smile from before— the one that never quite reached her eyes. He frowns, but nods. 

“Understood.” He says simply, their faces still dangerously close. He moves one hand to comfortingly cover hers as it rests on her knee, patting it gently. “I'm always here to offer an ear, whenever you need.” 

The warmth of his hand and his words radiates throughout her entire body, down to her bones. She notices the strand is still hanging in front of his eyes. She doesn’t hold herself back from brushing it away this time, her fingertips lightly graze his forehead as she tucks it behind his ear. Her hand lingers near his face for a while, but not nearly long enough, before she drops it back to her side. 

Gale looks taken aback by the gesture, quick fire flickers of shock, trepidation, then elation flashing across his expression. He smiles a smile that sends a shiver through her, his eyes dropping to her lips and the gap between them suddenly seeming so much smaller. 

Oh. 

It was getting smaller, as she realized that the magnetic pull between their lips was getting stronger as they both began to lean in, her body taking the reins as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening and determine if she were dreaming or not— was this just an infatuation induced hallucination? Had she finally lost it? 

“Mr. Dekarios?”

The sound of Tara’s voice calling from down the hall cuts the moment short, both of their heads snapping in the direction of the sudden intrusion. Gale sighs, his head falling in evident disappointment. He glances at her, her eyes wide and her cheeks a bright rosy red that makes his heart flutter. 

“To be continued, perhaps. I should—“ 

“No worries, go ahead. I’m going to go rest, my head is killing me.” She waves him off, attempting to hide her own disappointment and slight shock. 

Gale stares at her for a moment, the desire to kiss her still lingering but ebbing as he sees her pulling away, suddenly feeling as though he’d done something wrong. He opens his mouth to ask, but before he can she’s standing and quickly darting across the room and into the hall, stopping just at the doorway and peering at him over her shoulder. 

She sighs, placing a hand on the doorway and using it for support, her legs feeling as though they may give out on the spot. “Thank you, again.” 

He watches helplessly as she disappears into the hall and the sounds of her footsteps fade slowly, preceded by the sound of a  bedroom door clicking shut. His eyes pinch shut so tightly that it nearly hurts, and he sinks back into his chair, wishing a blackhole would form underneath him and swallow him. He could conjure one, if he wanted. 

He heavily considered it. 

“Mr. Dekarios, fix your posture! Your back already aches enough as it is,” Tara remarks as she strolls into the room, blissfully unaware of the havoc she’d just wreaked on his sanity. 

As per usual. 

~

There were a surprising amount of cracks in the ceiling above the bed in the room that she stayed in. 

Everything else in this tower seemed nearly pristine aside from appearing well lived in and well loved, Gale evidently cared greatly about his surroundings. The home was cluttered but organized to his exact liking, perfectly tidy but still cozy and comfortable. Anyone who entered would feel at home. 

She felt at home, more than she wanted to admit to herself. She tried to continue to remind herself that at some point she would have to leave and move on. But as she lay in this bed— this large, ever so comfortable bed— gaze trailing along the strangely cracked ceiling of her bedroom, she wondered what the ceiling of his bedroom looked like. 

She was certain there were no cracks in his bedroom ceiling. There couldn’t be. 

Today had been immensely overwhelming in terms of her feelings toward Gale that had been simply burning embers and were now alight in full force— him having stoked the fires tenfold with his seemingly innocent touches and his evident care for her that he put on full display multiple times throughout the day, all culminating in an almost-kiss. 

They almost kissed. He almost kissed her.

They were so close. She could still feel the heat of his breath against her cheeks and the skin of the back of her hand tingled with the sensation as if his hand remained there still, his thumb rubbing languid circles against her wrist. In fact, every part of her skin that he’d touched today still felt as if it had been electrically charged, still buzzing, and her stomach aching. She missed the feeling of him already and it was only a mere whisper of a taste rather than an entire bite. 

It wasn’t entirely her fault, obviously, that it never came to pass— Tara had a way of having serendipitously terrible timing. She wasn’t always sure that Tara didn’t know exactly what she was doing, and she wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case this time. 

It was endearing, most of the time. 

But even if Tara hadn’t interrupted— would she have really kissed him? Would he have really kissed her? Or would some other force of nature and horrible timing pluck them out of each other's grasps yet again? 

She thinks maybe he would have. She hopes. 

Now, she’s not sure she’ll ever get the chance to. 

Guilt began to gnaw and claw at her insides furiously as she remembered the way she’d exited the study— hurried and curtly— and the way hurt and confusion etched into his features as he watched her leave. She couldn’t explain why she left that way, she truly didn’t know. She wished she did. She wished she understood why she ever ran away from Gale in the moments when they felt the closest. The moments she had longed for for so long— so why wouldn’t she let herself enjoy them? 

It wasn’t that she was inexperienced in the romance department— she’d had a few partners here and there, mostly in school, and one since then that lasted a couple years but ultimately just didn’t work out— and if she’s being honest, she’d never been nervous around another person the way she was around him. 

And strangely enough, she felt very comfortable with him most of the time— aside from the occasional flips her gut did when she glanced up to see him at his desk, deep in thought and quill in hand, glasses perched just on the end of his nose as he read whatever scroll or tome he was fixated on.

He’s an easy person to just exist with. That is, if you aren’t hopelessly enamored with him. 

Gods. 

She clenches her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose— another habit of Gale’s that she’d picked up— wishing the large quilt and plush mattress beneath her would just swallow her. Just take her away from it all and save her from having to deal with the consequences of her own idiocy. 

Knock knock. 

“Elara?” 

The sound of Gale’s voice on the other side of her door lurches her from her thoughts and her body up from the mattress. She quickly hops off of the bed and approaches the door, her hand hovering over the handle. 

“Yes?” She asks, turning her head so her voice appears further away than it actually was. 

She hears what sounds like feet shuffling aside from a brief pause, before hearing a long and defeated sigh. 

“Can we talk?” Is all he manages, dejection evident in his tone. 

She reaches for the handle again, turning it slowly and pulling the door just enough to see him through the crack. 

He looked the way he did when something was weighing heavily on his mind or vexing him— she could tell he’d been raking his fingers frantically through his hair as it was uncharacteristically messy and unkempt, his robes were nowhere to be seen, and he stood only in his white wrap shirt and his breeches. 

Not now, brain. Not now. 

“Everything alright?” She asks, trying to hide the sound of her swallowing the massive lump in her throat. 

He shakes his head, placing his hand against the wood grain and gently pushing it, opening it further. 

“The very question I came to ask you,” he retorts. “May I?” 

She nods, backing away from the door to give him enough room to push it the rest of the way open, her heart thudding a million a minute. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his expression nearly unreadable. For as expressive as his eyes were, she had such a hard time understanding him or trying to sort out what mental storm was brewing in his head. 

“I could not bear resting my head upon my pillow and or fathom sleeping a wink tonight without knowing whether I’ve done something to upset you or not. If I crossed any lines today, please do tell me, and allow me to offer my most sincere of apologies for—“

What? 

“Gale—“ 

“—ever making you feel uncomfortable or uneasy in any way, I would never want to jeopardize the friendship that I feel we have formed over the course of your time here—”

“Gale, hold on—“ 

“—if I’ve done something to potentially sour anything, just know it was never my intention—“ 

“Gale!” She raises her voice in a final attempt to catch the rambling wizard’s attention, crossing the space between them and placing her hands on his shoulders. 

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders tense and she can feel the way his body trembles slightly. 

“Relax, please. You haven’t done anything to make me uncomfortable. Ever.” She coos, rubbing circles with her thumb into his shoulder. 

A few days ago, a gesture like this would’ve made her entire being feel as though she were on fire— but after today, it felt right. After receiving such care and comfort from him, the least she felt she could do was to return it in kind. 

He stares at her incredulously, as if he simply just doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. 

“You don’t have to spare me, Elara. I saw the way you looked when you left the study. I never want to make you feel that way, ever again.” His face softens as he speaks, the pain of potentially slighting her in some way weighing heavily on his chest. 

She blinks a few times, then that gnawing guilt returns with even sharper teeth, maybe some claws too. She pinches her eyes shut and releases a long breath from her nose. 

“It wasn’t you. Truly. I just— there is a lot on my mind right now, and I don’t want to burden you with any of it. It’s okay, really.” 

It wasn’t a lie, at least not entirely. There was a lot on her mind— even if most of it was that of a certain brown eyed wizard who happened to be standing in her doorway, looking like that. 

A great portion of it was her family, though. How much she missed them all. Her uncle, she had begun to miss terribly. She wondered what antics he was up to, as his vague letters did little to quench her curiosity. She hoped he was safe, wherever he ended up or wherever he was heading to. 

She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her mother’s lap and tell her all about Waterdeep and her lovely tour guide and everything she’d done since she left Rivington. She wanted to hear her father go on and on about how he must meet this man that occupies his most precious and only daughter’s thoughts. She wanted to introduce him to them. They’d love him, she thinks.

No, she knows they would. 

His eyes find hers in the dim candlelight, searching them for something, anything that could answer at least one of the myriad of questions he wanted to but couldn’t find the nerve to ask. The pale blue moonlight filters in through the large window on the other side of the room, almost haloing her and basking her in an ethereal glow. 

“It’s not a burden if it’s taken on willingly,” he retorts. “I care for you, Elara. Allow me to lighten your load.” 

If the room had been any quieter, she swears the sound of her heart booming through the smaller space would be deafening. “It’s not important. You have many other things to concern yourself with, I don’t expect you to—”

“The only thing concerning me presently is—” he pauses. You, is what he wants to say, but can’t seem to wrench it out of himself. “What is important to you is important to me. I meant it when I told you that I would be here for you, no matter the situation.” 

How this man has not been wed yet, is beyond madness to her.

“Gale…” it comes out more as a plea, as she feels her resolve to maintain composure weakening bit by bit as the conversation continues. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. And really, she felt now really wasn’t a very opportune time for an orphan sob story. Not exactly the most pleasant thoughts to have to sleep on. She knew from experience. 

His shoulders sink. This was one of several attempts now that he’d made to break down the walls she had built up, and he was beginning to feel like the villain rather than the hero coming to rescue the trapped maiden from her tower. 

“I do apologize. I fear I’m overstepping once again. Here may be a good place to leave this conversation for now. I’ll let you rest.” He resigns, his words betraying the sullen expression he held. 

“Gale, no, I didn’t mean—” 

He holds his hand up to stop her. “It’s quite alright. Get some rest. Goodnight, Elara.” 

Before she can stop him, he turns to leave, pulling the door shut behind him. 

The room suddenly feels several degrees colder than it had prior to what had just occurred. She feels as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs and every bit of strength had been sapped from her body within a split second— emotional fortitude included, as tears that had been begging to be shed that she had been neglecting for longer than she could confidently say finally began to fall, slipping down her cheeks and wetting the collar of her night shirt. 

Her head falls back as she makes eye contact with the ceiling once again, gaze finding a large crack just above where she stood. It looked fresh, almost. Like it had occurred within the last day or so. 

She wondered if he noticed it while he stood in the doorway. 

She wondered if he was in his room, staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom, checking for cracks.

“Goodnight, Gale.” She whispers into the darkness of the night. 

tags: @goddess-bound @mirandpeglell @celestialowlbear 🩷 (thank u guys for ur love I hope u like this chapter!!!!)

this is part two of a series - ✧ (chapter 1)

#gale dekarios fic #gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios fanfic #gale dekarios fanfiction #gale dekarios #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #my fics #wti

[startofamoment]

please come in and just sit here for a while ♥

Jake’s laughing so hard, Amy’s sure he’s going to wheeze himself into a poorly-timed asthma attack. The last thing they need right now is to have to call for backup while he fumbles with his inhaler.

“Alright, alright,” she grumbles, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “So a double date with a young Al Gore at the Louvre isn’t the most plausible. But you asked for my dream date– you didn’t specify it had to be realistic!”

He snorts, but she shoves him in the shoulder before he can devolve into another laughing fit.

“Aw, you gotta give yourself some credit, Santiago. A date like that could totally happen.” He pauses, amusement clear on his face. “Just remind me to tell your future boyfriend to invest in a time machine.”

He ducks before she can shove him again, and just like that he’s doubled over and full-on giggling once more.

“Like your dream date is any less ridiculous,” she huffs.

He swipes at his eyes and coughs, taking a moment to settle his breathing. “Oh, I’ll have you know my ideal date is plenty realistic but dare-I-say still very romantic? The Jake Peralta boyfriend experience is quite intoxicating, thank you very much.”

She raises an eyebrow but nods for him to go on. For sheer curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.

“I’m a simple guy. I don’t have to go to a fancy museum or whatnot to have a good time. All I need is a few fluffy blankets, chairs and stuff for structure, way too many pillows, maybe some of those fairy lights to set the mood… You following me here, Santiago? I’m talking me, my boo, and the most epic pillow fort you’ve ever seen. We’ll sneak a laptop computer into the fort and put Die Hard on, duh, and then it’ll be candy and cuddles from there on out.”

She hums, vaguely impressed but not at all ready to admit that that does sound like a respectable stay-at-home date idea. (She’s even further away from acknowledging that she maybe also thinks all of that with Jake specifically sounds more than ideal.) “Movie night in a pillow fort, huh? Never took you for someone into textbook rom com dates, Peralta.”

“Hey, I like cuddles and warm blankets! They make me feel safe,” he shrugs, then shifts to smirking and waggling his eyebrows at her. “Besides, a pillow fort is the perfect place for a good ol’ make out sesh. Seriously, by the end credits, my date and I would totally be–”

“Okay, I’m going to go ahead and stop you there before this gets wildly inappropriate. Still technically work hours, Romeo.”

He sends her another cheeky grin before raising his binoculars and redirecting his attention to the warehouse they’ve been monitoring. She refocuses as well, filing this new fact about her partner somewhere in the back of her head – to be compartmentalized and hopefully forgotten, along with her mental catalogues of Weirdly Cute Things Jake Has Done and Shirts Jake Has Worn That Make His Arms Look Good.

“Are your eyes covered?” She asks, glancing behind her to triple check before unlocking her apartment door. “No peeking until I say so, okay?”

Jake scoffs but keeps his hands over his eyes. “Ames, if this is your way of easing me into blindfolds and bondage, let me tell you–”

“Oh, hush. I told you, I just need to make sure everything’s ready.”

They step into her entryway, with Jake following closely behind her then staying put when she tells him to.

Amy makes quick work of depositing her bag and shoes in their designated places, hanging up her coat, and running to get the string of lights plugged in. (She’d made sure the whole setup was prepped even before going to bed the night before, but she’d intentionally left the fairy lights off lest she be schooled by fire marshal Boone of all people.)

She surveys her living room – or what used to be her living room and what now is an organized mess of sheets strewn over dining chairs and pillows lain on every available surface – one last time before taking a steadying breath and turning back to her boyfriend. “Okay, Jake, you can look now.”

He drops his hands to his sides, and Amy watches as his expression morphs from confusion to wonder.

“Oh my god. Is this– It’s– Holy shit, it’s a pillow fort!”

He sheds his jacket and toes his shoes off as fast as possible, tripping over his socked feet to scramble into the makeshift entrance, half-squealing and half-rambling like an excited child the whole way. Amy laughs, already starting to feel pleased with herself as she crawls in after him.

“Amy, this is amazing! Did you put all of this together on your own?” He’s beaming, eyes shining with unbridled joy. In the few seconds it’s taken her to settle in against a strategically-arranged pile of pillows, he’s managed to wrap himself up in one of the three fleece blankets she’d prepared for them to use. (She’s going to have to do so much laundry this weekend.)

“Mhm,” she nods, hoping she’s coming off cool when actually she’s buzzing with giddiness from the inside out. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” He falls back onto the thick floral comforter lining the floor beneath them, closing his eyes and making a satisfied hum before looking at her again. “Not to be weird, but you are making teenage Jake so happy right now. Like, I for realz would spend hours trying to imagine how my fort would look like and this– yeah, this is pretty darn close. The only thing it needs is–”

“Snacks? Check under that couch cushion.” She smiles, pointing to the spot beside his arm.

He sits back up then lifts the pillow in question, gasping loudly. “Gummy bears? Fruit Roll-Ups? One, two, three… seven types of chocolate, and even the Mexican candy from the bodega near the precinct? Amy, I–” His face shifts to something between bewilderment and awe, sending another surge of nerves through her. “I don’t know what to say… This is literally my dream date. How did you know?”

“Well, it’s... kind of a weird story. You’re going to laugh.” She stops, looking down and tucking her hair behind her ears while she searches for the right words to say. She’d known, logically, that it was much more likely he’d forgotten about their random conversation way back when, but a part of her had just hoped he’d remember so she wouldn’t have to explain herself like this.

“Come on, Ames. I promise I won’t laugh,” he says gently, nudging her leg with his foot. “I swear I really only want to know how you somehow read my mind. I mean, I know my school counselor said I should’ve kept daily diaries back then but I absolutely did not, so there’s no way you broke into one of those. Did I drunkenly blurt out my mushy teenage fantasies at Shaw’s the other week?”

She shakes her head, fiddling with the hem on the nearest pillowcase. “Not last week or at Shaw’s. I don’t expect you to remember this because it was at a stakeout a few years ago, but we’d talked about our ideal dates and you’d mentioned movie night in a pillow fort, so…” Her voice trails off as she digs underneath yet another blanket for her laptop and DVD copy of Die Hard.

She almost cringes when he doesn’t respond immediately, and it takes all her courage to get herself to look up from the loading screen.

He’s got that boyish grin on his face, of course. (It’s not fair that she still finds him ridiculously attractive, even when he’s obviously over the moon at her expense.)  

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” she says, pouting.

“I’m not! I’m just–” His grin widens into a smirk. “ So, so glad I finally have proof you’ve liked me for ages. Wow, Ames. You’ve been holding onto this piece of info for years, just waiting until you could finally put it to use, huh? That had to have been at least three years ago by now, right? Gosh, Amy, I had no idea–”

“Shut up and eat your candy,” she grumbles, throwing a packet of fruit leather his way.

He snickers but doesn’t say anything more as he tears into the plastic and bites into the chewy candy. The tips of her ears burn just the same, with her lack of an outright denial loud and clear in the air between them.

“It’s okay, babe,” he says brightly, laying a sticky kiss on her flushed cheek. (The brand new pet name isn’t lost on her at all, but she’ll unpack her feelings about that another time.) “I’ve most definitely liked you for way too long, so at least we’re even.”

#b99 #b99 fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #my stuff #me writing canon compliant fluff? so off brand #me writing ANYTHING? even more off brand #fam this is probs incoherent and tbh idek what it is but we're rolling with it

[bokashi]

Legit My Favorite Fics of All Time Holy Shit (Haikyuu)

I'll organize it by ship and try to include some details. I have a massive, well-organized folder of fics (probably over 100 fics jeez), but these are my favorites, the ones I've reread the most, or have taken up a lot of my headspace. Enjoy. :)

Bokuaka <3

Rules - ConesOfDunshire - Explicit, AU: Musician Autistic Bokuto, Accountant Akaashi - A bokuaka classic and probably my favorite Haikyuu fic of all time. Truly my favorite (top 3 at the very least). It's such a lovely story with minimal angst and a frick ton of fluff, and we get to watch as these two beautiful boys fall in love with each other. Well worth the read.

This Smacks of Rainbows - darkgaaraluver - Teen, AU: soulmates, still volleyball players at fukurodani, pre-canon, reincarnation - I love reading stories from Akaashi's perspective because he is a poetry gay and so we get the most beautiful language when describing Bokuto. There is so much pining and angst in this it hurts. Truly, this fic causes pain, but the comfort that follows is so sweet, that it makes it worth it. I reread this one at least 5 times after first discovering it.

like patience on a monument - titanscrow - Teen, Canon Compliant, slow-burn - Literally just read this one. That's how good it is. I already KNOW that this will be on my list. As the author says in the notes, they're allergic to sadness, so although this is a slow burn, there isn't a lot of angst in my opinion. Seeing Bokuto from Akaashi's eyes is once again, one of the most beautiful things, but we also get peeks at how Bokuto views Akaashi and that's honestly what changed this story from really good to an absolute favorite. (Note: it's all from Akaashi's POV, but when you get there, you'll know what I mean.) The author also came out with a new bokuaka fic (~5000 words) and I am IN LOVE WITH IT. So please read that too!

O-week is Wild - KnottyRoses - Teen, AU: College, FLUFF, COMFORT, BEAUTY, GRACE - This is my comfort fic. Feeling down? Read this because your mood will be lifted. We follow bokuaka during O-week (a Canadian term, but basically college/uni orientation). Bokuto is such a sweetheart. Characterization may be a little off (for Akaashi moreso), but I truly dream that this is how their personalities would develop in this universe, so it doesn't matter!!

polaris - ClementineKitten - Teen, AU: reincarnation, pining - Honestly what really gets me about this fic is Fates' little mentions of their previous lives. I love watching these boys fall in love through snippets and this is the perfect fic for that.

how you wish it would be all the time - drifting_i - General, Slow burn, post-time skip, "domestic bliss" - I think about this fic all the time. It hits me when I least expect it. Personally, I love the idea of Bokuto and Akaashi keeping in contact and seeing each other when they can, and this fic is an amazing example of that. And really, it is so freaking well written. I fell in love with this story and I hope you do to.

Iwaoi

Six-Month Lover - afuzzyowl - Explicit, pining, fluff and angst (a lovely combo, but if you're afraid of angst, it's not that bad!) - This one is so cute, and it's from an alternating POV, which is always nice with longer fics. It's particularly lovely because we get to watch Iwa fall for Oikawa (and using the best metaphor to justify it, a door opens—I realize now that sounds like a flattykawa joke, but I really just like that metaphor). But anyways, the way Hajime falls is soft and beautiful and it makes me believe in good things?! I just love it.

I sure hope that guy gets fired - Xov - Teen, time loop, pining, pre-time skip - This is another fic that is in my top 3. Truly, one of the best. *chef's kiss* I'm a sucker for fics with supernatural elements (body swap, etc.). We once again watch Iwa fall in love (are you sensing a pattern), and his POV is so wonderful. It's so well written and feels in character. Watching the relationship between Oikawa and Iwa bloom makes my heart swell. Please, please read this one.

and suddenly, we were strangers - izayas - Teen, angst with happy ending, amnesia, canon divergence, time skip - This made me cry for so many reasons. It's a rollercoaster of feelings and although the angst is there, iwaoi are still pretty much together, so it doesn't always feel like angst, it just feels like a speedbump on their road to happiness. And it diverges from the other two: this time we watch Oikawa fall in love, although for very different reasons! :) :(

you'd be happier instead if you stayed in [my] bed // sometimes b sides are the best songs - ClementineKitten + overwhelmingly_awesome - Mature, time skip, angst (up the wazoo), alcohol, pining, infidelity (iwa has a fiance) - CRAP! I love this one!! I think this is the last of the top 3. It's a two-parter, links included for both parts. We return to formula with Iwa being behind on the whole feelings thing (what's new). And it hurts and it heals? This fic is truly hurt/comfort for the soul. And also shockingly rational, which is often unusual in Iwaoi fics. They approach situations like adults (mostly... cheating is wrong straight up, so that's immature). If you're looking for adult Hajime and Tooru, I'm pleased to say that this feels like two adults figuring out a tough situation patiently. That's just one way to sell this wonderful fic, I could go on... But I won't...

lips like sugar - ohhotlamb - Teen, first kiss, canon compliant, (1 teeny tiny boner), kissing practice - YES! I shall include 1 kissing practice fic, it would be rude not to! No more elaboration because it's short enough for you to enjoy on your own!! And it's KISSING PRACTICE, come on, why are you still here, GO READ THIS FIC!

Matsuhana

聞けよ [Ask] - AshenBee - Teen, slow burn, time skip, quarter-life crisis (lol relatable tag), unemployed hanamaki <3 - What a beautiful story... I love Matsuhana content. We get little snippets of these boys just trying to figure out life and it's wonderful. LOTS of pining. Hanamaki moves in with Matsukawa for a bit. I don't even know how to sell this fic because it kind of sells itself. It's a character study of Hanamaki and as a young adult going through similar quarter-life crises, it's relatable and helps to deal with those feelings.

call me maybe - totooru - Teen, partially a text fic (not all of it, lots of writing), HUMOR, fluff, AU where Mattsun goes to Karasuno - Let me tell you this is straight up the funniest fic I've read. I cackled out loud so many times. It's insane. I'm an easy laugh, so maybe that says something, but either way, if you need something to lift you up, this is a greater fic for it. No angst, just prolonging the inevitable, and two boys who basically fell for each other right off the bat. A dynamic duo truly.

Miya Atsumu & Osamu (BIG BIG SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THIS DESCRIPTION, JUST BEWARE IF YOU WANT TO GO IN BLIND)

for just another day - sieges - General, canon divergence, photography, BIG SPOILER BUT I DON'T WANT TO SEND PEOPLE IN BLIND BECAUSE IT MIGHT WRECK YOU: major character death - This fic holds a special place in my heart for many reasons, but mostly because I lost my brother a little over a year ago. Completely different from this situation, but nonetheless, incredibly difficult. I 100% sobbed reading this fic. And it really helped me unpack a new part of my grief and my relationship with my brother. I really love what this story did with handling the death of a sibling, not sure if the author went through something like this, but it felt very real to me. (And now all I crave is Miya twins angst...) Also, I swear there's some form of closure. It's not terribly sad! It obviously deals with heavy topics, but at least for me, it felt like being wrapped up in a blanket and being told that everything will be okay.

I try to avoid sadness and angst at all costs (that one bokuaka fic that shall go unnamed really did a number on my grieving ass, so I can't handle anything like that anymore—it was so bad that I had to unpack it in therapy, jeez...). Most of these fics have mild angst or a lot of fluff to make up for heavy angst. There are definitely a lot of angst fics that I have saved, but obviously, that's not always my favorite brand for shipping (I just want everyone to be happy most of the time). Let me know if you read/have read any of these, I'm always up for discussion. :)

#fic recommendation #haikyuu #bokuaka #iwaoi #matsuhana #miya twins #atsumu #osamu #haikyuu!! #fics

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 7/?: Catalysts

Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often, despite the frustrating paradox that is the male endocrine system’s apparent determination to make him do so. He finds it feels… empty, after. Like there’s supposed to be something more, but instead there’s just whatever is situated above his head to stare at while his breathing levels out, an interminable abyss of silence and stars, or tree foliage, or apartment ceiling. Impulses and feelings of a sexual nature are probably normal for anyone his age, but in the past, satiating desires like this has made him feel guilty, given the context.

When he's not plagued by nightmares rife with gore and blood and bodies, or the occasional aching memory, his subconscious takes the opportunity to bombard him with dreams of a suggestive nature, having deduced somehow that it’s the most effective method to get him to… tend to things.

This variety of dream customarily involves pale pink hair, multifaceted eyes, and soft fingertips, branded into the part of his brain that controls his most base instincts with a hot iron.

He notes begrudgingly as he gazes at plain plaster above him, brows furrowed, that ostensibly, it works well enough, if the intricate mess of thoughts and feelings in his head and on his abdomen are anything to go by.

Sasuke would never admit it to anyone, but Sakura has headlined exclusively in nearly every sexually-charged dream he's ever had, and resultingly the majority of his sentient thoughts while indulging outside of dreaming, too. When they were Genin, it was innocent enough; he had reasoned that, being the main girl his age he associated with, it made sense his inadvertent dreams, beyond the scope of his control, involved her. He'd shaken it off in those early days as the by-product of the developing hormonal cocktail that is the pubescent masculine mind, and ignored the part of himself that kind of had a crush on her even then. Or definitively more than a crush, after the Chunin Exams and the hospital and jealousy.

He had tried convincing himself of the same thing at fourteen, once he'd left the village and had attempted to sever all bonds. It didn’t work, though; by that point he knew better, knew what the feeling he was trying to squash actually was.

Which meant it didn’t work at fifteen, either.

Nor sixteen, and definitely not seventeen, eighteen, or nineteen.

All of that has been wholly indecent on its own in the past, causing him to feel shameful every time it happens, and even more ashamed if it’s a rare day where he’s weak enough to act on it, a day where he wakes up mere seconds from an edge rather than minutes.

But this morning, he woke up on the tail end of all of that with the addition of freckles , of all things to fixate on, and he just knows he's never going to forget about them now, that they’re branded into his grey matter in perpetuity. Freckles just above the interior of a shoulder, eight of them, a small scattering he had been pressing his lips to, listening to a softly whispered Sasuke-kun, reaching around her with his only arm, so he could make her say his name like that again.

It is far from the first time he’s touched himself to the thought of Sakura, but it is the first time he’s indulged since they’ve been… together.

Except this time felt… different.

Less like an unrealistic reverie he should try to abstain from and more like an eventuality. Less guilt, too, or rather, almost none, because he’s in a relationship with her now, and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to have feelings like this regarding her. Not that he is anywhere near ready to do anything about them, because he absolutely is not; he’s not certain he even comprehends that level of vulnerability, to touch another person and allow yourself to be touched by them, though he badly wants to, someday.

No, Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often… but he did this morning, when he woke up teetering just on the precipice, fantasizing about tiny tan flecks seen and unseen, and he’s trying to work through how he feels about it, this guilt surrounding the fact of not feeling guilty like he ordinarily does, as well as the lingering curiosity he’s struggling to force down regarding how many other freckles Sakura has.

Even moreso, he yearns for soft words that he has often thought may be sentimental to the point of being utterly quixotic. It's why he doesn’t typically submit to this kind of inclination in the first place; it’s meaningless on one’s own, he secretly thinks, though he has nothing to compare it to. No sense of connection or true lasting fulfillment like he imagines there must be, for people to talk about it the way they do; just pleasure that's there for a blinding scattered second and gone the next, with nothing tenderhearted or meaningful in the moments following as his vision refocuses and he picks up the pieces.

He stares at his ceiling, an aporia of longing and complicated compulsions ricocheting in the hallways of his head, or perhaps from his skull to the roof and back again, an absurd push and pull that leaves him with more questions than answers.

Has she ever thought about him the way he thinks about her?

What would it sound like, Sasuke-kun, when she’s like that?

Is it okay to feel like this, now? To think about her in this regard?

Sasuke is accustomed to not sleeping well - it comes with the territory of his lived experience, an unfortunate fact of life he’s somewhat learned to deal with - but during the mission to Sand, he'd slept fairly restfully, though in short increments of five or six hours. That's apparently the tipping point of how long he gets to go without being sojourned by some variety of vision in the night.

He eventually makes his way to the shower, using torrid water and soap to double cleanse what’s left of his mess. That's a big contributor to his consternation, too; it's so embarrassingly messy that it’s impossible to imagine ever doing anything like it with her . He flips the dial to cold after he’s bathed for the better portion of five minutes, because serpens caput is still burned into his retinas, and he’s hoping against hope to freeze it out of himself like he has tried to do with shame in the past.

It doesn’t work; it just induces shivering, algidity overwhelming the senses but doing nothing to distract the mind.

He shoves his face into his book after, desperate for the distraction a proverbial fiction featuring an old fisherman can provide and thinking once again that he needs to acquire a lamp. Anything to get the thought of pressing his lips to her freckles out of his head, because he’s pretty sure if he keeps thinking about it, he’ll have to take care of things for the second time today, and then he really won’t know how to feel.

So when a banging erupts on his apartment door shortly following eight, followed by a shout of, “TEME! I'm here, let’s go!”, all he can think is finally, because he knows it will at least get his mind off of this strange lack of guilt and a curiosity he’s not ready to unpack yet. The book helped, but he thinks he needs the challenge a fight against Naruto can provide to truly leave behind this level of prurience. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look her in the eye when they meet at three as they planned, otherwise.

Sasuke shoves on his sandals and grabs his chokuto before opening the door. “So you finally showed. Thought you'd sleep all morning.”

Naruto’s eyes narrow, indignant and already launching into a retort. Good. Maybe he’ll get some iota of order knocked back into him, enough to put compelling constellations away for the time being.

XXX

Sasuke feels monumentally better by noon. It’s another draw, an absolute whirlwind of swinging limbs that made it impossible to focus on anything else. He didn’t take joy in it necessarily, and he suspects Naruto bruised his ulna bone to the extent it almost cracked, but it helps, the diversion of pain; the tinge he feels when he moves it is a welcome hindrance. They’d stuck mainly to taijutsu and clashing weaponry, so physically, he’s pretty exhausted.

They’re resting in the dirt, making a valiant attempt at rehydrating. It’s moderately hot for this time of year, barely on the cusp of mid April, but it’s seeming like the Konoha heat will be returning with the same vengeance it always does. A small trickle of sweat sinks its way down his back.

Sasuke feels nearly normal again. Or normal to the extent he generally feels, anyways. He gets the urge to do something good - to tip the scale, so to speak.

"...The cutting board works. Thank you." It’s not what he’s most thankful for right now, but it’s a nice thing to say as substitution.

His friend grins at him. "Welcome! It was all me, by the way. Hinata-chan didn't even help me pick it out!" Naruto scratches his head, downing more water. He’s moving rather slowly, as if he is sore, too; Sasuke thinks perhaps he came close to beating him this round.

They stare upwards for a while, soaking in the sun as clouds roll lazily by. Birds fly overhead, finches and song sparrows twittering their selections, collecting materials to build more nests for this new season. It’s another effective distraction, one that fills him with a sense of nostalgia, replacing his earlier sense of compunction regarding the mystifying concept of physical love and the whims that accompany it.

Naruto speaks up after a bit. "Ne, teme, wanna go to the market with me? Hinata-chan asked me to get some groceries and some stuff for the backyard."

Sasuke glances at his teammate and contemplates. It can't hurt. He did want to pick up potatoes to make actual curry with, and he could get some other things, too. He'll still have time to shower before he meets Sakura at the hospital.

"...Sure."

Naruto takes longer to rise than he does, shuffling carefully as if he is in pain, but once he’s standing, he seems fine enough, stupid grin slapped on his face at Sasuke’s agreement to go with. They set off in the general direction of his building so he can drop off his weapon first. He gets dirty looks sometimes, walking around, though it’s not nearly as bad as when he first returned and it doesn’t bother him on the same level that it used to. When he’s with Naruto or Sakura, he gets less of them, but he can't imagine a sword strapped to his back in the market will do much to help his reputation.

Naruto doesn't allow the easy silence to last. "Y'know, teme, it's really good to have you back in the village. It feels like everything's finally coming together. We'll have to do some fun stuff this summer. And also in the fall!” Gears are turning behind cerulean eyes, and he adds, ”...Hmm, and the winter, too!"

"...Yeah." He stares at the mountain, thinking about what cherry blossom trees look like in summer and fall and winter. It will be nice to see the one across the street change colors throughout the seasons. Or the one on the hill, where they're going later today. He has seen their like numbering in the thousands, scattered everywhere on his journey - he’s highly cognizant of them, for obvious reasons - but he hasn’t been granted the privilege of watching the same one through the whole of a year’s growth cycle in a long time.

"Sakura-chan seems really cheery lately, too. Can't imagine why." The second sentence is said flippantly, without any real conviction, as if Naruto knows exactly why.

Sasuke glances at his teammate, neck warming and heart skipping a little at the mention of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing that Sakura is happy from secondhand sources; it makes him feel like he’s doing something right for once. Maybe not all his impulses are complicated in nature enough to require dissection, as he was accustomed to doing when he was away; spending time with her is one, and he's been indulging it often.

He briefly entertains the idea of outright telling Naruto that they're together, then, but the dobe is moving on before he comes up with the words. "Well, anyways. Wanna spar Monday morning, if neither of us get a mission by then?”

That’s… specific. Maybe he doesn’t need to say anything to him, after all; he’s sure it’s no coincidence that Naruto is asking about the exact time period Sakura is busy training with Ino, probably as aware of her schedule as Kakashi is. Their old sensei might have told him, he supposes, or maybe Sakura said something; Sasuke wonders when he last saw her.

“...Sure. If you think you can handle it.”

The response he gets is a slug on the left shoulder, but it’s not overly hard. Sasuke narrows his eyes in response more out of habit than any real malice. He sees as Naruto’s hand retreats and slips out of a fist that words are written on his palm. He didn’t notice it throughout the morning due to their hands constantly being locked around weapons or thrown in punches, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes; it's likely a grocery list.

Naruto leans against the brick downstairs while Sasuke drops off his sword, and then they head to the main market area as the dobe chatters. It’s fairly busy, it being a Saturday, but it’s not intolerably so; most people are busy eating around now.

Sasuke is completely unsurprised when Naruto beelines straight for the noodles; naturally he would be out of them. He takes the opportunity to procure a blend of wild rice. Thus far he only has white and brown in his own pantry, and he’s been trying to eat it often. He's always liked rice, but it’s high in calories, too, an easy way to try putting on weight. Another variety to choose from would be beneficial.

He trails after his friend to the baking supplies next, where Naruto examines containers of flour and sugar. Sasuke concludes Hinata must bake, because he’s confident any cookie prepared by the dobe could not possibly be edible. While his teammate is occupied, Sasuke turns the corner and procures a half dozen eggs, a large bag of potatoes, and two different varieties of tomatoes. The extra five pounds of weight held in the crook of his arm doesn’t do wonders for his bruised bone situation, but it’s not wholly unbearable; he’s fairly used to dealing with pain.

“Hinata-chan said to go to the gardening stall on the north end,” Naruto says once they’ve paid and exited the building, so they begin a course in that general direction. “She said they have the best perennial bulbs; that means they come back every year!”

Sasuke twitches, surprised he can even pronounce the word perennial if he’s lived this long without knowing what one is.

“Anyways, she wants to plant some, uh…” His voice trails off, and he peeks at his hand, where Sasuke now sees the names of flowers written in feminine writing that has to be Hinata’s.

Of course. Like he could spell the words, let alone read his own sloppy handwriting.

“Iris, phlox, and uh… echo-na-na-chee-ah.”

“Echinachea,” Sasuke corrects dully, giving him a withering look.

“Sure! That! She wants to plant those in the backyard, kind of line the house with them, since the front is looking pretty nice now. She said to get bulbs; they root better. They might bloom this year, but if not, they’ll for sure come in next year!”

“...And she entrusted you with this?” Sasuke asks, raising an eyebrow.

Naruto just laughs, utterly unphased. “Duh, that’s what the list is for, teme. Hinata-chan is super smart like that. Putting it on my hand makes sure I don’t lose it!”

They meander to the northern edge of the market, past the congregation of other stalls selling seeds and garden starters. It's getting towards the end of planting season for Fire Country, but there is still plenty to choose from here, allegorical gates of green swinging open in salutation. They pass some tomato plant starters, already starting to climb their cages, but Sasuke decides against it; his hand is full presently, and the bone still kind of hurts, and none of them are red heirloom tomatoes anyways, being smaller variations like plum or cherry or grape. He likes all tomatoes, honestly, but if he was going to grow one, he’d just want the one of a favorite to worry about. Repotting a starter would also require a planter, which he doesn’t have; another thing to carry.

The stall Naruto leads them to is probably the nicest one there, judiciously laid out and everything labeled neatly with precise calligraphy. The few tables the vendor has are overflowing with perennial starters, but Naruto goes to the three vertical displays of seeds and bulbs, so tall they are at eye level with both of them. They’re filled to the brim with diminutive packages, printed with large pictures of the flowers they contain the beginnings of, along with genus names and common names in smaller text. The blond examines them, surveying his hand, then the display, then back to his hand again in scrutiny.

Sasuke watches, resisting the urge to sigh and waiting for the inevitable.

“Hmm… I guess this would be a lot easier if I knew what any of these looked like. Gonna have to read them all.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and steps forward to point to the section of iris bulbs to start with. He gives him a minute to work out which colors to pick, observing the throng of people entering and exiting around them, young and old and in-between.

Phlox are next; he directs his teammate to the appropriate section, where there are quite a few options of hues. Naruto examines them as if he is making a grand decision transformative in nature, mumbling to himself.

“Hmm… She likes blue and purple. Maybe I should…”

His own gaze wanders as he tunes Naruto out, taking in pictures of begonias and caladium on plastic shiny in the sunlight, before his vision locks on the far display.

He wanders over to it as if his body is moving of its own accord.

There are several varieties of lilies, he learns as he scans the packaging, oriental, trumpet, and what is apparently called nerine. White nerine lilies had been the variety his mother grew, lining their yard with curved porcelain petals, clusters emanating from many single stems.

He sets his groceries at his feet to free up his hand, picking up one of the packages to read the instructions on the back. His arm aches as he does so, but he couldn’t care less.

Nerine lily bulbs require good drainage. If there are still puddles in the prospective planting area 5-6 hours after rain, locate another site, or amend the soil with organic material to raise levels 2-3 inches. Nerine lilies also require soil that is somewhat gritty, though it also must be organically rich. Adding compost may increase nutrient content.

In spring, choose a location in full sun. If you are in a hotter region, site them where they will receive morning sun and afternoon shade, and plant the bulbs with an inch of the slender top above the soil surface. The top of the bulb is the area that looks like the stem of an onion. Install bulbs 8 to 11 inches apart for a massed look.

Nerine bulbs develop foliage that gather sun rays and strengthen the plants during the spring and summer months. Flower stalks develop in the fall. Provide water when the plants are actively growing, and very little when they are dormant.

You may cut the final flower stems to display decoratively. This will not hurt the plants and the cuts last long periods of time indoors. After they finish blooming for the year, cut off any remaining flower stalks. Your plants will rest for the winter months before sending up new growth in the springtime. Over time, nerine lilies will form clumps. They like to be crowded, so don’t feel pressed to divide them unless flower production begins to decrease. Clumps can then be dug, split apart, and moved to other parts of the garden, or shared with friends.

When Sasuke looks up, deep in thought, he notices Naruto searching for what he assumes is echinacea, flitting stiffly at random between the first two displays and scratching his head. Wordlessly with the package of lily bulbs still in hand, Sasuke points to the bottom right corner of the first, where several color selections are.

“Thanks, teme!” Naruto plows back to the specified stand and stoops down comically slowly, though Sasuke barely sees, gaze drawn pensively back to the packet he was examining.

The memorial stone has decent drainage, aside from the occasional hard rain like last weekend; that will become less common as the weather warms, and one or two monsoons a summer never drowned his mother’s lilies. Shade in the afternoon could be an issue, though. There’s a large oak tree on the west side that might cast some protection over it, but he only ever visits under the cover of night, so he’s unsure. He would have to examine the trajectory in person to gauge.

He considers the market bag the groceries were handed to him in earlier, studying it closely.

Carefully, he puts the package back where he found it, though his eyes linger on it. He’s no gardener, not like Sakura is, and besides, his arm hurts.

XXX

He’s leaning up against one of the blue columns outside of the hospital when Sakura emerges at three, sprightly as ever. She’s holding the two journals and the medical text from their first trip to the library; she said yesterday that she needed to return them, but there shouldn’t be any new ones she needs to check out just yet. He hadn’t stayed terribly long after they’d finished the tenmusu because he needed to shower and write his mission report, but they’d made plans to swing by the library and journey back up the hillside to read together again. There was also mention of possibly picking up food afterwards, to take to her place. Hazel Wood must be in her tote, hooked around her shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets cheerfully. “Whew. It’s getting warm out already.”

“...It is,” Sasuke comments before he extends his hand for her texts, his own already held there, a silent offer to carry them for her.

She blushes as she passes them to him, sliding them into his hand. His eyes drift to the freckle on her cheek, and he wipes his mind blank by sheer willpower alone as they head east. The books aren’t as heavy as the groceries had been earlier, so it doesn’t hurt as much, but he's wondering at this point if the bone might actually have a small crack. He thinks he should ask her to look at it; maybe later, at her apartment.

“My balcony days may be numbered by now, at least until the fall comes,” Sakura observes as they meander.

He contemplates. “...Do you sit out there often?” It is so utterly befitting of her that he thinks he can picture it, her reading out there, surrounded by plants. He wonders if she ever admires the night sky. Their team had stargazed sometimes, on missions that first year as Genin.

Green eyes settle on him from his right. “I like to, when it’s nice out. A lot of times in the summer it gets too hot, though there is an occasional night when it’s cool enough. Fall is really the best for it. You can see the changing leaves from above. Even if it's a chillier day, it’s pleasant with some tea and a blanket in the evening."

He debates for a long moment, but decides against bringing up stout squirrels or chestnut-flavored everything or Naruto slipping on a leaf.

“...It sounds nice,” he comments simply instead, wondering if he’ll be invited to sit with her on her balcony, once fall arrives. They would have to sit kind of close; the space doesn’t seem very big from below, and it's cluttered with greenery.

Sakura smiles up at him, a look that says she agrees with his assessment.

Then, she offers softly, "You can sit out there sometime with me, if you'd like."

His neck warms; all he can do is nod and avert his gaze elsewhere, an abundance of something tender and sweet flaring to life in his belly.

Returning the books barely takes two minutes; they’re wandering towards the outskirts of the mountain in short order. Sakura sprawls in the same spot she did last time, so he takes up the same position, too, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, stable and strong.

And then his eyes catch on another freckle she has, this one near her elbow, and all he can think about is the slightly textured consistency of his ceiling, and whether the impulse to press his lips to her skin without guilt was an okay thing to feel.

She reads and he more contemplates than reads for about an hour, sprawled beneath the scant amount of shade provided by this tree that has lost its petals, trading them in for florets of a greener variety. It’s pleasant, once he can drown his inner disarray of thoughts. He eventually gets through a sliver of his book, though turning the pages is a little cumbersome, tinged lightly with pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until later to ask her to examine his arm.

Sakura finishes her own book, though she keeps the pressed petal between its pages; she must have gotten through more of it while he was on the way to and from Suna. She just reclines there, after, looking up at the sky with her arms at her sides, near exactly the relaxed pose she used to lie in when they were younger.

Sasuke finishes the passage he’s on, and marks his place with the petal she’d plucked from his hair last week, before pointedly setting the text aside and following her eyes to the azure. Fluffy clouds are floating by as the sun inches closer to the west horizon, pushed steadily by the breeze.

“How is Ichika’s recommendation?” She questions.

“...Interesting.” He genuinely is enjoying reading it, despite his aberration.

Her head angles towards him, lying against a gnarled root at a slightly different angle. Her expression is curious, like she’s encouraging him to elaborate.

“Simple, but heavy with metaphors.” He considers for a second, then adds, “You might like it. Poetic.”

Full lips twist upwards. “Maybe I’ll read it next. Her recommendations are usually pretty apt; she gets a good read on people.”

“...How was yours?”

“Hmm.” She pauses, as if thinking it over. “A girl and her mother who get caught up in some bad luck. They inherit an estate - that’s where the title comes from - and supernatural things start happening. It’s kind of a story within a story situation; the grandmother they inherited the house from was an author, so they start going back and reading her writing for clues.”

“...A mystery.” It seems like she’ll read any genre. Mysteries would probably entertain her; she’s always liked to solve things.

She laughs, music to his ears. “Yeah, I suppose it is. It was pretty good. Well written; better than the last one.”

There is a pause.

“...Maybe I’ll read it next,” he echoes, her same words from earlier.

Green sparkles at him, amused before she shifts back towards the firmament.

“...Sounds like a book club.”

It is the most Sakura joke. He huffs a ghost of a laugh as more gauzy clouds drift idly by. It is peaceful, sitting here underneath the same sky as her, observing in easy silence through branches with fresh emerald buds.

And then Sasuke flexes his forearm, shifting slightly, and it still hurts. He considers; she probably won’t mind.

"...I think Naruto cracked my arm bone," he finally confides.

She turns to him, expression fluctuating immediately into one of disquiet, pink brows knotting closer in concern. He blinks and she's standing already, walking over and sitting cross-legged in the nearest open space, an indent in gnarled roots that she navigated through and found a place in as if it were nothing.

Wordlessly, Sasuke holds it out for her to inspect once she’s seated, and she gently rests her fingertips on his forearm.

"It’s from this morning?” Sakura asks, looking concerned in a way that makes his heart thump a little. Or maybe it’s from her hands encircling his skin.

He nods; she must have deduced that they trained earlier. She prods gently before threading green chakra beneath his skin towards the bone, probing for a break.

She frowns. "Oblique fracture in the ulna, though it's very slight and non-displaced.” Her gaze flicks up to him, and all at once, it’s the exam room again, him hyper aware of how close she is to him even though this is clinician Sakura. “I’ll fix it; you really shouldn't have been carrying anything on it."

It takes him a moment to realize she’s referring to him carrying her books earlier, because he’s thinking about the groceries from the market, which were definitively heavier. Her proximity and the aroma of tart berry and the freckle on her cheekbone are all incredibly distracting. Especially the freckle. He peers at her fingers, glowing verdant, and notices one on the inner portion of her right wrist, too.

"...Sorry." He says finally, flicking his eyes back up to her nervously after a long minute is spent mending marrow back together. She inclines her head back down to his arm, apparently accepting his apology for not mentioning it sooner. It's an odd sensation; he can feel the crack fusing from the inside out, ataractic chakra seeping into the diaphysis to fortify.

He feels like he should clarify, so he adds as she works, eyes fixed on her face which has settled in concentration, “I thought it was just bruised at first.” She nods as if that makes sense, working on it for another minute or so without glancing up.

He hopes she's not mad at him. Sasuke shifts his gaze downwards, something in him sinking.

“Flex it, then bend, please,” she requests, not moving her digits; she must need to feel the arm move to determine if it’s healed. He does as she asks and it’s notedly improved, no lingering pain.

“It’s better. Thank you.” He looks upwards just as she does, hoping the jade will still be soft on charcoal.

It is, startlingly so, and she’s flushing all of a sudden, dropping her hands from his arm and rising to her feet a step away, as if she, too, just realized how close they were. It's different here, daylight and not part of their routine like her entryway is becoming.

“You’re welcome,” she says somewhat hastily, complexion darkening. He’s not sure he’s much better; his neck is warm, and he remembers very specifically where each of her fingers had just been on his skin, like the ten points of contact are singed into his epidermis, and likely his grey matter, too.

As he tries to force his pulse to even out, Sakura adds, softly, “You could have just come in with him.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “...What?”

Sakura blinks, countenance appearing as if she is sorting through a problem in her head. Pink dissolves back to her normal coloring.

“Naruto came in with a slipped back rib, earlier today. I assumed it was from sparring with you.” She rolls her eyes, then. “He went and got groceries before coming in; he had them with him. Luckily nothing chilled; he had to wait for a bit.”

"...He didn't say anything about his rib." Now the slow rising and crouching is making more sense.

She sighs, closing her eyes for a second as if something has become clear, but she only replies, "Ah. Of course."

"...Wouldn’t shut up?"

"...Yeah." She turns away slightly, cheeks stained anew for some reason; it makes him curious what their third teammate babbled to her about. "He said as I was kicking him out that he was going to plant flower bulbs with Hinata this afternoon. He showed me the ones he picked. It’s good timing; the perfect time of year to plant some. Pretty soon it'll be too warm."

He lets those words drizzle slowly into his being, a little gentler than a summer monsoon.

"...Our next Hokage can't pronounce echinacea," he eventually tells her.

She chuckles with mirth, a sweet sound he finds relieving; she must have gathered he was present for that endeavor, now, and she can't be too mad at him if he can still make her laugh. Sasuke inwardly hopes she doesn’t gather that he also got groceries; he doesn’t think she’d be very impressed. It was kind of stupid to do that with a questionable arm, in retrospect.

"No," Sakura acknowledges finally, appearing highly entertained. "And he didn’t know what a perennial was until this morning, yet he’s planting an army of them. Probably without reading the directions."

They look over the village together for a lengthy moment in which he considers text printed on the back of a white package.

Then she says his name, so quietly it’s almost a whisper. "Sasuke-kun.”

He angles to her, and sweet jade is on him again, ebbing seafoam cresting as the late afternoon sunlight hits her.

"Thank you for telling me about your arm. In the future, please come to the hospital, if I'm working. You can wait in my office, if you’d prefer. I don't mind; use the window.” Her expression changes to troubled, and suddenly she is no longer the clinician version of Sakura; everything is tinged with something more, something that burns him in its intensity. “You shouldn’t just… suffer in silence, if something hurts. Even if you think it’s nothing. Please tell me."

Oh. She’s not mad, just worried. Heat grazes his ears, and he swallows, staring down at his forearm.

He wants to be close to her. He really does.

"Okay,” he agrees, and means it, carefully meeting green.

They head down the hill together to seek dinner before the rush hits, deciding to go to the yakitori stand she mentioned when he first returned. She chatters about how Naruto wants to have a bonfire in his backyard, once summer’s here and everything is planted.

“...He’s excited about his yard,” Sasuke comments after they’ve ordered, leaning against the wall of the exterior waiting for their takeout. He requested his without the sauce, since Sakura said it’s on the sweeter side for yakitori.

Sakura grins, and she’s really pretty, shadows of a nearby tree dappling her skin, cheeks still red because he paid. It’s only fair; she’s been feeding him. “Yeah, he is. I’d like to see their flowers and garden in the back, eventually. I’m sure once they’ve got it how they want it, they’ll have all kinds of get-togethers back there. Last year we carved pumpkins at their place, instead of at Ino’s and Sai’s; there’s less mess to clean up if it’s outside. He said today that you should come this year.”

“...What?”

She blinks as if remembering something, then smiles sheepishly. “So I never mentioned this, because it happened after I…” She flushes, and she looks away for a second. “...After I sent a letter for the month already, but Sai learned about this artistic thing they do in the Land of Woods, a couple years ago.” Her gaze shifts back to his. “They hollow out pumpkins and carve designs into them, in late October. Warding off evil spirits as they go into the cooler season or something; they put them on their doorsteps with candles in them so the carvings light up the night. It’s odd, but I think it’s become a tradition now. It’s fun, once you get the hang of it. We roast the seeds with salt and Hinata bakes pumpkin bread.”

That sounds entirely odd and completely characteristic of Sai; he supposes there is the artistic angle to consider. Sasuke passed through the Land of Woods three separate times, but never in the fall. “What kind of designs?”

She smiles as if she’s trying not to laugh; his expression must be that of one who is exceedingly perplexed. He supposes it’s not an expression he wears often. “Well, they’re supposed to be scary, I think, but we don’t really do well at making them that way. They’re more funny or decorative. Sai makes pretty good ones, I guess, mean faces with sharp teeth.”

“...What do you carve?”

Her eyes twinkle. “I tried a leaf, the first year, and a crescent moon the second. Sai and I teamed up to carve one for Kakashi-sensei, too, last year; a scarecrow with a cat.”

A crescent moon is not at all what he would have guessed she’d gravitate towards; he thinks immediately of the Six Paths Yin Seal that once adorned a hand he no longer has. Then he comprehends the final part of that sentence.

“...A cat?”

“Oh. Yeah, he got a cat.”

“...His summons are dogs.”

She giggles. “Yeah, Naruto and I thought it was weird at first, too, but he does kind of seem like he’d be more of a cat person overall, the more we thought about it.” Sakura shrugs. “He’s in the village most of the time now, being Hokage, so I guess he thought he could be around enough to take care of one? They’re more low-maintenance than a dog would be. I usually get tasked with feeding it and changing its litter, when he travels to watch the Chunin and Jonin Exams.”

Momentarily, he wonders if Sakura knows what’s under Kakashi’s mask; their old sensei allowing her into his space in his absence may have given her opportunities for some form of low-key reconnaissance on the matter.

Then his brain seizes on another notion, one that’s far more amusing, because she said she teamed up with Sai, and that can only mean one thing.

“...What does Naruto carve?”

Sakura’s grin widens as if she perceives exactly what thought he’s just had. She probably does; she knows him well. “He’s terrible at it. His never look like anything; just orange mush. He loves it, though, and Hinata puts it on their front step anyway.”

He snorts. Figures.

A bell dings, so they peer back in, and sure enough, their food is ready. Sakura steps forward to collect it, thanking the worker, but as she turns, she pauses.

Sasuke follows her gaze, and sees none other than their third teammate in the street, walking their direction and waving emphatically. He’s wearing a different pair of pants, knees absolutely covered in dirt and grass stains.

“Oi, teme! Sakura-chan!”

Sakura glances up to him before swiveling towards the road, their food in hand; Sasuke trails close behind, pushing apart the hanging banners of the stand as he steps beyond the threshold of the restaurant.

“Naruto,” Sakura greets when they’re out in the open.

“...Dobe.”

“Looks like you’ve planted everything,” Sakura says more than asks, gesturing to his pants as evidence.

“Hehe, yep, all of ‘em! It was work, but it will be worth it, later in the year.” Naruto scratches his head, grinning. Sasuke lets those words sink in, too, drenching dead roots.

“And now you’re getting Hinata yakitori as a treat?” Sakura pushes, seeming incredibly amused.

“Well…” Naruto looks away bashfully, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah. Gotta repay her somehow. She has good ideas. I just follow her lead.” He looks back to them, then. “Did you tell teme about all our awesome plans?”

Sasuke’s focus falls to Sakura, who is flushed, biting her lip in a smile.

“I may have started to.”

“Well, good, because our yard is going to be totally the best, and if he thinks he’s getting out of it...” the dobe points at him accusingly, “Then I’ll kick his ass!”

Sasuke scoffs. “As if you could.”

Sakura shakes her head, pink locks fluttering with the motion. “Always with the physicalities... Anyways, I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.”

An uncommonly stretched pause passes where blue eyes zero in on the food container Sakura is holding, before they travel up to the two of them.

The grin shifts to something remarkably tender.

“...Yeah. I’m sure it will be.” He says it with the utmost confidence, like he is as certain about it as he is about the sun rising tomorrow, and Sasuke gets the sense that he is no longer referring to gardening.

The moment passes, and then Naruto is punching them each on the shoulder respectively and sidestepping away towards the yakitori stand. “Anyways, gotta go, so I’ll catch ya later! I’m guessing you have plans of your own.”

Sasuke blinks as their teammate disappears into the restaurant, ears burning a little. When his vision travels down to his right, Sakura is blushing a dark red. She meets his gaze, smiling sheepishly.

They turn to go to her building. The entire way there, Sasuke considers everything in the beginnings of a green that seems endless, nurtured by people from all walks of life. He has been noticing it this whole time, since his return, but now he's thinking about how dull it would be without it, whether it’s dirt roads or lifeless grey granite. This is not the wilds, where seeds sprout unabated. Here, one must put in the work to grow things, find suitable locations and till the soil.

When they reach Sakura’s apartment, his eye lingers on her plants as he follows her inside. She sets the takeout on the table by her window. A shadow of a leaf from the jasmine above them is cast hazily out of focus on her left cheek.

“Would you like any sauce with yours? I could make some teriyaki sauce quick, or I have lemons I’ll be cutting up anyway for mine.”

“...Lemon?” Citrus complements chicken, he knows, but he understands that to mean she’s planning on putting it on hers, over top of the yakitori sauce.

Her lips curve upwards. “I like it on other things, too. It’s good on yakitori.”

So Sakura slices a lemon and it sits on the center of the table between them as they eat. She drizzles her yakitori with three of them, and he takes the other three. The chicken is pretty good, tart with the citrus and seared alongside green onions. It’s still warm, as it wasn’t a long walk to her place at all, a convenient sort of sustenance.

“...What else do you like lemon on?”

She chews thoughtfully, swallowing before answering. “Hmm, a lot of things. Fish, even ones that are usually served with lime. Pork. I like it on vegetables, too. Salads, pasta, rice. Most desserts that include lemon I like, as well.” She pauses again, and adds, “Lemonade, if it’s homemade.”

No wonder they’re always in her fridge. “...And tea.”

His heart flips at the way she smiles at him.

“...And tea,” she agrees.

They watch the streets fill and empty from her window, finishing the meal in a companionable reticence, smelling faintly of citrus rind and shadowed by greenery from above.

He helps her prepare decaffeinated sencha after, trying not to stare at the freckle on her cheek. He’s pondering this morning further, the notions of impetus and yearning, and also the way she says his name, but this time uttered softly under a cherry blossom tree with an invitation into her office, if something hurts.

Sakura cares about him. A lot. Sasuke knows this, has known for years, but it’s the actions of her affection, the way she expresses it purely and simply as if it’s a true north cascading through her veins, that has inched its way into his bone marrow, engraved on the latibule he carved inwardly to avoid dry swallowing life’s more bitter medicines.

As she stirs sugar and honey into her own cup, she asks, “Care for a chess rematch?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it; he nods his assent. It’s time to test something.

They arrange the board together at her table. The first round, Sasuke cautiously plans every move, surveying alternating squares and attempting to predict what strategy Sakura will employ. In some instances, he mirrors her, moving a rook a turn after she does, shifting a pawn out of imminent danger, and so on. It’s a very involved way to play, requiring attentive calculation of each move.

It’s a prolonged match that he eventually loses with a final sweeping motion of her remaining bishop, but it’s fairly close.

“...Again?”

She grins and wordlessly starts setting up the pieces she has captured, so he begins to set up hers. It’s an interesting task, a message of opposites, her setting up his dark figures and him setting up her light ones.

The second round, he simply follows his instincts, negating planning ahead farther than a couple of turns. If he gets an impulse to shift a pawn one way, he does. If his gut tells him to move the knight into her territory or to retreat a rook, he goes with it.

It drags on for the better part of an hour, and ends in a stalemate.

The smile she gives him is breathtaking, a broad and warmhearted validation.

“You’re good,” she comments, jade eyes dancing with joy. He gets the impression that it is not often she gets forced into a draw. He wonders who else she plays with. It can't be Naruto, but maybe Sai or Ino also play.

“...So are you.” He is somewhat reassured now. His impulses used to be ruinous, stemming from anger and anxiety and loss, but perhaps his journey helped in that regard. He just needs to make sure they're rooted in the right things, whether it be logic or affection, and then the major task becomes to feel rather than to overthink.

When he kisses her good night in her entryway, another movie watched and plans for tomorrow later, he doesn’t reach for the freckle the first time, though his hand twitches with the longing to. It’s treasured, this tender pressing of lips that feels like dipping a toe into still water. It is imbued with both of her hands resting on his shoulders again, ten fingertips that have him in her grip more than she could possibly fathom.

He studies her eyes when he pulls away, staring down into soft depths of viridescence. He will drown in them someday, he thinks, slowly but surely working up the courage to wade into the deep end.

The second time he kisses her, he lets himself graze her cheek to truly appreciate the difference, allowing acknowledgment of the impulse, compelled forward rather than backward as if bound by some metaphorical form of northern star situated on the rise of her cheekbone.

Sakura leans into his touch once more as she did yesterday, but this time, she brings up her own hand and delicately lets her fingertips rest atop the outside of his, as if she encourages the caress, thumb brushing against his knuckle as his lips gently brush hers. Her other hand stays resting on his clavicle, a tender embrace, osculant in a way he has hoped for countless times, inclusive of this morning.

It is exactly what he needed, a catalyst of encouragement comprised of a heat that is gentle, coaxing, but still brands him all the same.

Maybe it's okay to want to skim her freckles and more, to allow the affinities he has to breathe. They’re together now; it stands to reason they'll one day venture into territory more uncharted, if he can concede to that kind of vulnerability. Not that he’s anywhere near ready for that - he’s not - but his instincts don’t appear to be all disastrously calamitous. Touching her cheek is something she clearly welcomes.

Sasuke gave in to darker tendencies once. Perhaps it's okay to give in to lighter ones; nothing grows in the absence of light, after all. He brushes a thumb across the high point of her cheekbone once more with her hand encompassing his before they part, embracing a new habit prior to whispering good night.

The way she smiles up at him, skin aflush and glimmering eyes, is everything.

XXX

He inspects the stone and the soil surrounding it for a long while, heavy-heartedly trying to ignore the encyclopedia of names in favor of envisioning what it would look like with lilies surrounding it. Less lugubrious, probably. The trajectory of the tree’s shadow would touch the stone in the evening, he sees, now that he’s here in person. He only ever haunts this place after nightfall when there's less chance of someone happening upon him. He wishes it was more secluded for that reason; maybe healing happens in the sunshine, and that’s why he still struggles with coming here after so many years, creature of the night that he is.

Evenings with Sakura feel like healing, though, and they linger after hours consistently. Maybe next time he’ll visit his dead kin at twilight, a brittle sort of compromise.

He'll see if the impulse still grips him tomorrow, and then decide. He knows his mother would like them. Itachi would, too, although it never feels like he's here, not the same way that it feels like the rest of them are, the air weighted with an accursed brand of perfume pouring outward in all directions.

White lilies may be able to touch the light in his stead for the time being. Even if they don’t grow, he at least will know he tried, and there is always next year. By then, he may have the capability of asking Sakura if she would help him; she’s clearly a capable gardener, and there should be less sediment, if he puts in the work.

By the time he leaves for his apartment, a thin layer has loosened.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #i said chapter 7 by the end of august and we cut it kind of close but we made it B)

[rockinsappho]

Last Words of a Shooting Star

Hey! first time ever uhhh posting any kinda writing hahaha but here u go! (Was gonna post on ao3 but I forgot my login nooo)

Notes: CONTAINS SPOILERS for ep 139! Check tags. Set during ep 139 during/right after the feast. Mostly canon compliant? Caleb has physical anxiety tells and essek is trans w chronic pain: this felt important to include as I love to project myself into my interpretation of who these characters are, anyways. Perhaps Ill write another similar fic focused on Beauyasha??

Tags: fluff, a bit of angst, we-might-die-tomorrow-angst, talk of death, discussing feelings, accidental telepathy but its all consensual dw, anxiety tics (like finger picking mentioned), first kiss, no beta we die like lucien, 

(ALSO if there is something else I should have tagged, please let me know. I want to be conscious of others so I will def update it if there is something u feel is missing.)

----

“This could be our goodbye... Is there… anything we want to say to each other? Any warm words of encouragement, or things that we don't want to leave unsaid?”

Veth’s words hang heavy, silence filling the air. Sat around a campfire, Yasha looks toward Beau with sad eyes, and Jester leans on Fjord's shoulder. This is the Mighty Neins last night before the storm, before the whole world could change.

Caleb, however, was busy picking at his fingernails, acutely focused on anything but the others. It was too soon to say goodbye to the Nein. His friends, his… family. So he looked for minute distractions.

“I have lots of things I want to say; after we defeat Lucien,” Beau says, as the others chuckle softly. There is a strange tension in the air. As if even with Veth's words, there were still things not spoken aloud. Too many eyes watching them still. Even more-so with them now branded on their bodies.

“Cayyyleb,” Jester's voice rang out “Any confessions you need to get off your chest? Looove confessions? You are always so secretive.”

He smiled slightly as he brushed the loose strands of hair out of his face and looked up towards his friends, attempting to straighten his posture.

“Errm… there is not… particularly anything I would like to say, no,” Caleb replied. Taking a chance, he eyed Essek, who was also keeping quietly to himself. Always so serene and proper, draped in his mantle and robes. Sensing his gaze, Essek met his amber eyes. It was as if every moment they connected: time slowed. One moment lasted for hours, stretching millennials until there was nothing but the two of them-- together against time.

But there was no time. And there were not the two of them. There had been no conversations together of the constant pull they felt towards one another.

“We need more time.” 

At that, Essek furrowed his brows, hearing Caleb's voice ring in his head. This was not the first time Caleb has accidentally sent his thoughts over to Esseks mind. With the eyes and their close proximity to one another, it only makes sense that there would be slip-ups. But it has become more and more frequent. Especially since Essek himself has branded an eye, he has noticed Caleb being a bit more… attentive to him. Not to say that Essek did not secretly appreciate such attention.

It does not help that Essek had sustained pretty serious injuries from the last battle, and was having a hard time staying on his feet. The floating, of course, helps to relieve the constant pain through his legs, but he has just been so exhausted. And Caleb noticed.

Oh, sweet Caleb, worrying for this traitor to the Dynasty-- this drow he barely knows. And yet, there is some unspoken connection between the two of them-- Essek could feel it in his bones.

And if they were going to die tomorrow, now would be the better time than any to tell Caleb how he truly feels. After all, if Caleb rejects him, he’ll be too dead to care. Now, Essek. Just tell him now.

“Ahem,” Essek clears his throat and stands. “I will ah- be back in a moment.”

The Mighty Nein turned to each other, confused at the sudden movement.

“Was it something I said?” Jester asked.

“Of course not Jester,” “Absolutely!” Fjord and Veth said at the same time.

Caleb's eyes held on to Esseks back as he floated towards the next room over, silk robes drifting softly through this strange astral sea.

“Caleb. Come, follow. I must discuss something of great importance that I do not wish to share with the group. “

A heartbeat skipped as Caleb heard his fellow wizard's voice in his head. He appreciated this sense of telepathy they both shared. Simultaneously though, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, as he was the one who dragged Essek into this in the first place. And now, branded with a red eye they know little about, he felt a new sense of responsibility for his dear mages safety.

-

When Caleb finally found some excuse to leave their camp to go find Essek, he had a lump in his throat. Fidgeting and picking at his hands, he approached Essek. He was sitting with his back against the wall, legs bent in front of him, and tending to his wounds gained in battle. Next to him was an open medicine pack and his spellbook turned to a simple cantrip, light, which he was using to illuminate the space around him to better see his wounds.

“Essek--” Caleb starts, suddenly unsure of his words. “Let me help you,” his voice is soft and tender as he knelt in front of his friend.

The drow looked up and smiled softly. “Thank you.” They held eye contact for a beat and then looked towards Esseks knees, still bruised and burned. “I ran out of bandages, I was hoping you carried some in your bags.”

Caleb let out a quick laugh, and lifted his hands, turning them around a little.

“Ja, I carried them for a long time. To cover these... Also, because of the constant fighting we find ourselves in. I’m not exactly err… strong.”

Essek smiled at that. “Me neither. Can you help me wrap them?”

“Ja. Of course.” His slightly shaking hands took the bandages from his pack and started to unroll some of the cloth. Caleb took a deep breath, filling his lungs to attempt to calm his nerves. “Was this, uh, what you called me over to talk about? You know Caduceus or Jester know better how to tend to wounds than I do.” He let out a nervous laugh again and started wrapping the cloth around his leg.

“Ah-” Essek scrunched up his face and winced at the pain, looking to the side. Caleb’s hands immediately stopped, save for the slight tremor still present.

He looked up at Essek’s face with worry. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah..” Essek began calmly, clenching and unclenching his hands. “I am used to pain. And-- no this was not what I wanted to talk about although, I do appreciate your help. Sincerely.” He looked over to meet Caleb’s eyes. A beat.

“Scheisse, you are beautiful.”

Essek looked down as he heard the other’s voice ring through his ears. Do it now.

“Caleb, I don’t- If we- If I die tomorrow, I want to die knowing that I have aired all of my grievances. My sins. My… thoughts. I want to die with everyone-- with you knowing everything about me possible. I don’t want to just disappear in the memories of you all--”

Caleb stops wrapping his legs and interrupts “Liebling, what are you going on about? I will never forget you, Essek. And we both have sins we have yet to atone. You know your sins are not of importance to me. The only thing of importance to me is how you have treated me, the Nein, all of us--”

“The only thing of importance to me is you!”

Time slowed again. It was either Dunamancy or the butterflies in his stomach. Essek’s eyes went wide as he realized what slipped through his lips. He had said it with such conviction, he did not even realize how quickly it came out. He had spent hours thinking of how to eloquently profess his complex feelings towards the other wizard. And now…

Essek started to remove Caleb's hand’s from his knees, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting towards one another. “I’m sorry Caleb, I-”

Caleb quickly set his hands on top of Essek’s to still them, looking back into his icy blue eyes, mouth unmoving.

“You are the most important to me as well.”

“Did you mean to send that message this time?” Essek asks softly, careful of his next moves.

“Ja. And the other ones too.” There was a slow moment where Essek could have sworn Caleb's eyes drifted from his own to his lips.

“Caleb. I don’t want to die before I’ve kissed you.”

“Then don’t.”

Caleb lifted a trembling hand to cup Essek’s face, running his thumb across his cheek. Flushed, Essek closed the distance and finally embraced in a kiss. It was an awkward angle at first, as Caleb was leaning over his injuries, careful not to touch any part of him that would cause further pain. But Essek was seeing stars, it had been everything he had ever dreamed of. All of the euphoria he had ever felt from the social power he had gained through treachery-- he would throw it all away for just ten more seconds with Caleb-- no, five, no three seconds. He would give away his all for a single moment more.

Gently they pulled back from another. Overwhelmed in emotion, the human laughed and rested his forehead on Essek’s.

“It has been a long time since--” Caleb begins.

“Me too. We will learn together, as we have in the past, like we always do.” Essek quickly kissed Caleb on the nose. “That tower of yours sounds awfully nice tonight. A warm room, warm bed. Perhaps it will be a good night of sleep for all of us after all.”

Caleb nestled his face into Essek’s neck, sighing. “We should probably get back to the group. They will wonder why we have been gone so long. One more kiss before we go?”

Essek smiled and grabbed his face in his hands, pulling him close.

“We have all the time in the world.”

#AYYEEEEE #WE POSTEDDDD #im so nervous act posting this if u could just uhh #lemme know if u like it #if u dont pls dont tell me id cry haahah #anywasy #WOOOOO #yay for finishing something #shadowgast #critical role #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #critical role fanfic #shadowgast fanfic #Caleb widowgast #essek thelyss #shadowhand essek

[rose-blooms-red]

@universes-mystery you are a menace to society and I am in....so much pain

anyways, long story short, I have been convinced to make an updated fic post thingy after someone went through my blog and made me look at my old fics :’) 

So!! uhh yeah Ro Fic Hype Post take 2 lmao, i have too many fics at this point so im just gonna link some that made me happy or just that i remember having a grand time writing.

Star Wars

“Be the Rarepair content you want to see in the world”: Listing all the ones from this series would take too long. Just know that these were all a joy to write and that there is a Large Variety lol.

not something that you put to bed: my first foray into soft wars! lmao, i was super nervous with this one lol but I do still like it more than i usually like my fics! And i was happy with how this one came out. It’s Edee squad centric, specifically Neyo and Fox interaction and yeah, there’s a reason i joke that my brand is trauma recovery dkjfskjdf.

don’t break the bottle: my second go at soft wars and I do still like this one, it’s Cody and Neyo centric, around Cody getting Neyo’s pledge and dealing with leftover stuff from Priest’s training. There’s things i’d def try and do better but, its nice and not as bad as i feared nkjdfjnd.

sins of the father: this is a second person Boba Fett character study and I do actually still adore it. it kicked off it’s own series actually, that I cowrite with @graaaaceeliz and has expanded far past what i thought would be just a tiny little oneshot to put my boba and jango feelings. It was a fun adventure into writing in a writing perspective i dont use much and helped me get a bit of a grasp on both Boba and Jango

and the whisper in your head goes quiet: another 2nd person Boba fic, made people mad at me jdfnsjkf. Includes the hc that Boba had a chip and it malfunctioned and Jango had the Kaminoans remove it.

the hum in the air (and the gentle love): was really nice to write and i do still love how soft it is,though there are things i’d def change. It’s a soft little codywan oneshot with poetry.

gentling the edges: Neyo and babies, im just...so soft, there is so much soft

little darling: Fox and babies, because i am so soft still over babies and the older clones okay.

you will be alone, always: was a fun one, made some people cry lol. Obi-Wan centric, canon compliant, with hints of QP Codywan.

love or the lack of it: Bly and Neyo centric, lots of fun to write lol. Soft wars, and im still quite pleased with it. a bit heavy, heed the tags.

the art of the mind: Soft wars, Jet and Bacara Centric. i loved exploring them more honestly, i kinda wanna do something else with them.

Messing around in the soft wars sandbox: now that i think about it, just linking this series might be better XD a lot of the next few I was going to put are from here. It’s basically just all fics set within the Soft War’s AU by @thefoundationproject lol

(give me) something soft: one of my first fics in the Star wars fandom, It’s Kix/Agen and I’m still super soft over this pairing and writing this made me v soft.

the burning heat upon my back: another one of my first few fics in the star wars fandom, It’s an Anakin introspection type piece as I was trying to figure out how to write him and getting settled in the fandom.

like a lazy ocean (hugs the shore): Wingfic, Kit Fisto centric, hinted possible kit/monnk. This was just hilarious to write lmao.

calm your mind and quell your fears: Wingfic, Obi-Wan centric, soft, QP Codywan fluff.

name the child innocence: was fun, Wingfic, Jango Fett centric, it’s a lot heavier than the other wingfics tho, so heed the tags.

childhood (strong and full of foreboding): apparently i really like doing explorations on trauma and how the past can shape you and how you can shape yourself in spite of the past and things like that kjdsnkjsdf. It’s told in various Clone’s p.o.v and switches between Anakin and Obi-Wan’s Not Fun Childhoods.

hold your heart (be still): Ahsoka and Rex bonding! set in the same universe as childhood!

DC

the art of siblings is that sometimes you just wanna fight them: A lot of fun lol, batfam centric, the kids being Themselves and Dick is Exasperated lol

we lay here (for years or for hours): which is an introspection and sort of character study on dick that throws out any semblance of timeline or canon. trigger warnings for depressive and suicidal thought and major character injury

setting fire to our insides for fun (to distract our hearts from ever missing them): in which dick is sad, bruce is gone, and dick really just wants his dad, his sleep-deprived mind decides to be kind, because the world is not, this one made me sad

i have tried to hoard your love (and found it slipping through my fingers): a look at Jason and books, and the complex thing that is a childs need to be loved

fault lines: A fic about recovery and the difficulties, or; Dick Grayson and trauma, recovery, and his siblings. Something’s wrong with all of them but they work through it, eventually.

this one is a rough ride, still a WIP and it deals with a lot of heavy topics, flashbacks, trauma and discussions of the trauma, deaths, injuries, rape, broken relationships and dysfunctional ones, borderline abusive behaviour, talks about all of the above, and the healing process. Tread lightly with this one as it deals with heavy topics in it’s quest to say fuck you to certain dc writers.

Bnha

Shock: Kaminari feels, The dangers of electric quirks

Flicker: The Todoroki’s deserve better, Dabi is an angry child who misses his mama

All I’ve Ever Known: Genfic, Dabi is Touya, Fuck gender, Chronic pain, Touya/Dabi needs help

We go down swinging, My lovers and I: Shigadabihawks, Major Character Death, not a happy one folks.

#ro'swriting #mywriting #star wars #the clone wars #dc #bnha #Prez i hope you're happy now #I am in.... #so much pain #smh #all my friends are bullies #long post #i am also only just now realizing how Not Good baby Ro was doing jksdfjksdfn #because of the fics i wrote back then #damn I was Having A Time wasn't I

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

This or that tropes

ty @sybil-writes and idk uhhh @bronanlynch and @untitledfirbolg have at it if you want

Slow Burn or Love At First Sight (gimme the slowest of slow burns they shouldn’t even be LOOKING at each other until 50k in)

Fake Dating or Secret Dating (only to pull off some sort of Heist or Scheme, i think both of these tropes are difficult to do well)

Enemies to Lovers or Best Friends to Lovers (i love mistrustful colleagues to lovers)

Oh no, there’s only one bed! or Long-Distance with Correspondence (this one is so DUMB and it gets me EVERY FUCKIN TIME gOD)

Hurt/Comfort or Amnesia (where’s that post about the only way to survive in a harsh postapoc landscape is by being kind)

Fantasy AU or Modern AU (modern aus are more immediately satisfying but the worldbuilding problems of a fantasy AU are delicious if done right, magic is just poorly explained science &tc, urban fantasy solves both these problems at once but is fairly rare in fic ime)

Mutual Pining or Domestic Bliss (this MUST go along with the slow burn)

Smut or Fluff (mostly madcap action sequences and witty patter over here, but very little smut) 

Canon Compliant With Missing Scene or Fix-it Fic (FUCK CANON LET VERONICA AND CHRISTINE BE HAPPY)

Alternate Universe or Future Fic (this is all i do)

One Shot or Multi-chapter (this is also all i do)

Kid Fic or Roadtrip (don’t love reading either of these premises tbh)

Reincarnation or Character Death (people having such a strong bond that they keep finding each other gets me right in the heart)

Arranged Marriage or Accidental Marriage (i don’t like either of these)

High School Romance or Middle Aged Romance (google tells me middleaged is 45-65 and almost nobody i write qualifies they’re mostly exhausted late twenties to late thirties)

Time Travel or Isolated Together (time travel makes me anxious)

Neighbors or Roommates (oh my god they were reluctant and temporary roommates)

Sci-fi AU or Magic AU (it is much much harder to write a good scifi au even if it is very low on the mohs scale, but urban fantasy is a thing i love a lot)

Bodyswap or Genderbend (agreed genderbend is fun if it does trans stuff well)

Angst or Crack (could argue everything i write is crack taken seriously, but there is a significant amount of angst behind the foreground bullshit) 

Apocalyptic or Mundane (my special brand, for my special eyes)

#ty!!! #ain't that a kick in the head

[nalyra-dreaming]

Book: A blackish red hue

I am offering a printed book version of my story “A blackish red hue“, rewritten and corrected, illustrated and properly set. I did this mostly for myself but some have said they wanted a copy so … 

>>> GET YOUR COPY OVER ON ETSY! 😊

340 pages of Hannigram fanfiction, the Murder Husbands on the run, depicting their lives together after the fall.

An A4, hardcover book with 135 g paper, 47 illustrations and a foreword by my “partner in crime“ (over at @lovecrimebooks) Romina Nikolić.

This book has been made to match RADIANCE and, in extension, the upcoming RAVAGE. Yep, with COLOR CUT*. In blackish red.

Weighing: ~1,6kg

> Which means we are just below the threshold of the so called “book shipping“ weight (with packaging), making international shipping much cheaper. >> 17€, priority handling and tracked in most countries.

All tracked countries here: deutschepost.de/brief-international/land-fuer-land

>> Germany: 5€, internationally 17€ + (priority-which is with) tracking ~ 20€

*****

Content:

A Murder Husbands story, heavy on character development and (hopefully) story, spiced with sex (see rating below).

Not overly fluffy but with a happy ending. (Yep, despite what you might think in between.)

Murder Husbands as in Murder Husbands. With Murder Tableaus. And family. Murder Wives :)

This starts at the motel in TwotL, so there is original dialogue here, reinterpreting the scenes we were given. The story segues into pure fiction after the fall.

>> This story spans several years - it follows Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter after „The Fall“, the ups and downs of this obsessive and difficult relationship, trying to fit the monsters on their backs together. As well as their habits and appetites.

There are lots of turns and not everything is as it may seem at first.

This is my Season 4.

And 5 through 8.

Approximately. :)

This story has been posted and is available on Ao3. It has been, as mentioned before, corrected, some parts rewritten, polished up and properly set, enhanced and improved for this book :)

There are almost 50 artworks in it. Some were gifted to me, some I commissioned and some I created.

Illustrations in it by:

@JustCallMeLuci | Sara Larner saralarner.com | @dark-will-graham​ | @tindu​ | @amngell​ | @transylvanianshipper​ | @noaryr​ | @arkarti​ | @theseavoices​ | @Hachiseiko | @felidaefatigue​ | @hanniwill​ / / Rola | @basementarts​ | @Rocio_ruiz_art | @the-walking-fannibal​ | @bayobayo​ | @thenecronon​ | @wisesnail​ | @vibiana​ | @Moishpain / @sheep-in-clouds​ | @stravvbunnies | @miasmatik​ | @maddsaa | @toni-of-the-trees​ | @le-wendigogo​ | @Skeletology | @shoegazerx​ | @Aerinnnn | @ivyart​ | @mumbrielle​ | @granpappy-winchester​ | @caniday​

(and some by me)

The beautiful cover was created by @granpappy-winchester (original post here!) and @basementarts. 

>> Commission @Granpappy-Winchester here!!

>> Commission @basementarts​ here!!

Btw: I can only recommend commissioning them or any of the other artists! 

Also: Basementarts is offering a discount right now so check them out!

*****

What some critics… erm commenters said:

On Baptism: „OH GOD!

i was just scowling tru Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter fic and saw your fic Salvation and read the summary and thought ‘well this looks good’ and i saw it was a part of a series and thought i might as well start at the beginning to see if its any good!!! i couldn’t even begin to fantom how brilliant and talented you are!!! im only just finished this first one! and i want more more more! and there is more!!! yay me!!! im just going to go and binge read it all!!! no sleep or socializing for me!!!!

thanks for shearing your talent and choosing to express it with Hanagram fics! i truly appreciated it, like im sure many many others do!!!“

Also on Baptism: 

„Ahhhh, this is completely stunning!! So beautifully and elegantly done, it drew me in from the first chapter and refused to let go until the last. Just wonderful. Thank you so much for this gorgeous reading experience.

*Applauds*

Please don’t ever stop writing Nalyra :-)“

On Obfuscation: 

„I’ve just binge-read this whole story. I absolutely loved it!! The balance of power between them is beautifully portrayed. I really enjoy the tenderness between them, and also the pure darkness. It feels like a completely natural progression from the show. I can’t wait to move on to the next installment!“

*****

Characters:

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom, Margot Verger, Verger Baby (Hannibal), Freddie Lounds, Jack Crawford, Chiyoh, Will Graham‘s Father, Clarice Starling, Robertas Lecter, Bedelia Du Maurier, Ardelia Mapp, Matthew Brown, Original Graham-Lecter Children

*****

(some) Tags:

Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb | Canon-Typical Violence | Canon Compliant to Canon up until 2018 | Post-Canon to Canon up until 2018 | Original Character(s) | Original Character Death(s) | Explicit Language | Explicit Sexual | First Time | First Kiss | Murder Husbands | Murder Wives | Rough Sex | Angst | Fluff | Blood play | Dream Sex | Branding | Fanart | Honeymoon | Cannibalism | SotL-compliant | Canon Character Death

*****

Rating:

Mature, scratching on explicit, but toned down from Ao3 version. A bit.

*****

Excerpt:

From Baptism:

It takes an indistinct amount of time to get ‘back down to earth‘ as it were. Will is vaguely aware that there is a cramp in his legs, the fingers of his right hand hurt where Hannibal has gripped him too tightly, he is a mess, he hurts between his legs in places he cannot yet define properly and Hannibal - Hannibal is lying on top of him, making it hard to breathe, silently crying into Will’s neck. Will feels the best he can remember.

He carefully dislodges his left arm from Hannibal’s neck, dragging his fingers through the greying hair, petting. His legs drop and he winces, which seems to bring Hannibal back to himself. He raises his head, eyes bloodshot, his voice gravelly. “Will, I… I apologize.“

Will shakes his head slowly and places the fingers of his left hand against Hannibal’s lips. His gaze catches on the ring that Molly placed there and he realizes with a start that it has no place here in this bed. He feels more than sees Hannibal withdraw and quickly shakes his head again trying to placate and communicate his thoughts as clear as possible. “Take it off for me.“

Hannibal freezes above him. The look he levels at him does its best to make Will hard again but he really isn’t that young anymore. Will swallows. Hannibal slowly drags his right hand up at the side of Will‘s body, making him shiver. When he reaches his chest he follows his arm up until he reaches the hand that’s still raised between them. Slowly, very slowly Hannibal starts to push the ring off Will’s finger with his messy hand, never breaking his gaze. Hannibal encloses it in his hand when it’s off and carefully puts it on the nightstand at the other side of the bed. “What about it now?“

Hannibal’s voice is rough and Will knows that the answer he has isn’t what the question was about, but it is the only one he has to give. He tries to say it lightly, keeping his voice low. “Well, you took it from me. So, if we make this work, you’ll have to go and replace it.“

Something breaks in Hannibal’s gaze. There is light and darkness seeping into it in equal measure and it thrills Will to no end to see it. Hannibal’s voice is the roughest he has ever heard it, the accent strong. “I will not let you go, now.“

Will smiles. To everyone else, this would have been a threat. To Will, it’s the conclusion of a courtship that’s lasted six years. He’s been caught, and now he’s free. “Where do we go from here?“

Hannibal nuzzles into the Will’s neck, his words breathed onto sweaty skin. “How about we pay a visit to an old friend?“

*****

Final notes:

>> I don’t make money from this - the price on Etsy consists of the following amounts:

A4 hardcover print with color cut, heavy paper and bookend pages etc: 41€

Packaging: 2€

Etsy fees: 2€

+ Shipping

*IF this book sells 50 copies (in total**) I will be able to get some nice extras (ribbon bookmark, spot glosses at the very least).

** I’m going to order some for myself and a few artists, who preferred the book over monetary payment

Printing will commence after August 10th, 2018, with shipping following right after. Printed at same company that has printed Radiance and will print Ravage.

Books will be in foil and wrapped in bubble wrap and then in the actual packaging for shipment (aka lessons from Radiance. I’ll also check the weather forecast -.-).

IF there is something left when all is said and done I will donate it. Resumé will be posted here.

After August 10th 2018 I will close preorder.

This will be the only edition.

If there are some copies I need to get to reach the minimum to the next „step“ (with more extras) these will become available on Etsy afterwards.

There will NOT be a digital version for sale because I only negotiated with the artists for a printed version.

Soooo.... 🤗

Hope you like!!! 💕

#hannibal #hannigram #fanfiction #story #book #a blackish red hue #my story #my book #fannibals #fannibal family #hannibal lecter #will graham #alana bloom #margot verger #jack crawford #clarice starling #robertas lecter #steven graham #morgan verger #my season 4

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | January 2017 ❤ THANK YOU TO ALL WRITERS FOR YOUR HARD WORK AND SHARING YOUR STORIES! ❤

Special mention⭐ & Top 5 + 16 more stories under the cut:

⭐ 2017 HL Prompt Challenge ⭐

“A small group of us came together to do a prompt challenge with fast deadlines to have some fun and see what we can do, and this is the result. Hope you enjoy!” Authors: taggiecb, afirethatcannotdie, QuickedWeen, waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee, Awriterwrites, allwaswell16, LadyLondonderry, lululawrence Prompts so far: Foundation, Bloodsucker, Hinge, Scream (revealed today)

Where Your Heart Is

by anhcor & tvshows_addict | College AU | hate to love | slow burn | 154k Louis is ready for his brand new adventure. So what if he suffers from a genetic condition that prevents him from being touched? College is going to be awesome. It has to. Karma kind of owes him right now. Forget about his overprotective mother, or Liam-- his entirely too chipper step brother-- or his mess of a roommate. Forget about the gloves he has to wear at all times. He’s here to expand his knowledge, write and drown himself in books -- No matter how distracting ‘Hallway Boy’ may be-- The obnoxious, flirty frat wannabe determined to become the bane of Louis’ existence. Or, a college AU set in San Francisco where two lost boys who seemingly have nothing in common find inspiration, each other, and themselves in the process.

Black With Autumn Rain

by whimsicule | thriller | crime | magical realism | 93k “Thank you,” Geoff says, taking a sip of his tea. “What did you tell him?” Louis has a sip as well, lets the tea burn down his throat too quickly, too hot, and he feels it all the way down to his stomach. “The truth. Essentially,” he replies after a moment, licking his lips, relishing the slightly bitter taste of the brew that’s never quite strong enough for Louis’ liking. At least it’s not decaf. “That my dog scented it. That I didn’t touch the body. That I came here first thing.” Geoff nods pensively. “Did he believe you?” “Probably not. There’s only so many people who can drown on dry land before it gets fishy.” or: Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

Hold My Heart

by Awriterwrites & phdmama  for H/L Exchange 2016 | famous/non famous | Mile High Club | Actor!Louis | Doctor!Harry | 14k “Excuse me, mate, I’m the window seat here.” The voice was soft, apologetic, and accented in something a bit unfamiliar — northern England, maybe, Harry thought. “Oh,” Harry jumped to his feet and moved aside, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.” The other man laughed as he swung a bag into the overhead compartment and slid into the seat. “You were well caught up in that book, mate. What are you reading?” Harry paused, wondering how to explain the fact that he was reading an epic and x-rated romance that was the story of a relationship between a prince and the man he’d enslaved. “Oh, you know, just some fiction my sister recommended.” He turned to look at the man and froze. Sitting next to him was Louis Tomlinson. *** Or, the one where famous Louis Tomlinson offers his hand and a lot more to his seat mate on a transatlantic flight.

What do you mean he's coming?

by MediaWhore for HL Famous/Not Famous Fic Exchange | Childhood friends | famous/non famous | actor!louis | photographer!louis | 15k When Harry accepted to be his sister’s Maid of Honour, despite how non-traditional of a choice he was, he didn’t think writing a speech for the wedding reception would be this hard. Now, not only does he have less than two weeks left to find something moving and inspirational to say, but Gemma just confided in him that her old childhood best friend is going to be in attendance. The one who moved to LA and they haven’t seen in fifteen years because he was too busy becoming an Academy Awards winner. But hey, no pressure. It’s just Louis Fucking Tomlinson. Harry is screwed.

Singing to tiny dancer

by BriaMaria | Famous/Non famous | Actor!Louis | 22k “Yes!” Harry punched a fist into the air. He laughed at the confusion that wrinkled the little space between Louis’ brows. “What?” “You’re flirting with me,” Harry smiled, letting his dimples pop. Louis’ face went blank for two seconds and then he rolled his eyes, one side of his mouth lifting. “Am not.” “You soooo are,” Harry sang out, poking him in the shoulder. “You like me.” “I was simply showing you how to actually bring… what did you call it? Your A-game.” Harry adopted a patronizing expression, sure it would piss him off. “And you did great. Really.“ “Oi, fuck off,” Louis said, but he was actually laughing now. Outright. It was gorgeous and Harry wanted to live in this moment forever. It was the very best one he’d experienced. He wanted to always remember the image of Louis’ crinkled eyes, the sound of his breathy giggles, the smell of citrus that radiated off him as he swayed in his amusement. And Louis didn’t even know his name. Or ... When everything gets to be a bit too much for A-list actor Louis Tomlinson, he runs back to the town he had never really called home and the boy who was the only one he did.

Beautiful Star 

by tommoandbambi for We Wish You a Larry Christmas Fic Exchange | famous/non famous | kid fic | christmas fluff | 17k “You know, when I pegged you for a druglord, I wasn't exactly challenging you to make me believe that you actually are one. What is this place?” Louis says after he swallows over the mild panic that's building up in his throat over the fact that he's literally sitting in front of the cause of his teenage sexuality crisis. or, the famous/nonfamous kid!fic AU wherein harry and louis have to host a school Christmas party and harry isn't actually a druglord.

Play The Odds 

by alivingfire | College AU | friends to lovers | 26k Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis. Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend. Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

Runner On Third 

by kikikryslee for H/L Exchange 2016 | slow burn | friends to lovers | 40k As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was. “Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it. Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?” “I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?” “Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.” Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?” “Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?” “I’m his teacher.” “You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed. Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year. --- Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

Taken Over By The Feeling

by whyidontknow1 | angst | fluff| baker!harry | 53k After almost a year of increasingly troubling behavior, Louis agrees to let his sister live with him. It's a last resort before more drastic measures are taken by their mom. Harry Styles runs Given A Chance, a program for troubled and disadvantaged teens out of the bakery he owns. He offers the kids in his program what he believes they need to start on a different and better path for their lives. Louis learns all too quickly that Harry's goodwill does not extend to him. Only because he happens to remind Harry of an ex he'd rather forget. It's not the smoothest of beginnings, but in the end Louis' own issues might be the real problem.

Haven't You Heard 

by allwaswell16 for HL Christmas and New Year Fanfiction | Christmas fluff | 8k Harry Styles has been in love with Louis Tomlinson since they were eighteen. After six years together, Harry is ready to propose to the love of his life. The holidays strike him as the perfect time for a romantic proposal, but his well-meaning friends and family (including his self-appointed best friend, Niall) seem to thwart him at every turn. Or the four times Harry tries to propose, and the one time he gets it right.

If My Yesterday is a Disgrace, Tell Me That You'll Still Recall My Name 

by Trytoescapeit for HL Christmas and New Year Fanfiction | 16k The boy, right now in front of Harry, most definitely has familiar blue eyes and the same thin lips. Those lips. Small, bitten things that are so close to splitting. All he can think of is a chorus of his name. Louis, Louis, Louis, and the name means nothing to him until the boy looks up. OR Harry and Louis are childhood friends for only a year when Louis moves out of town. Fast forward to the future and Harry is a used-to-be rich kid who cut off his family's inheritance to build a life of his own and Louis owns the small cafe that's hiring. Harry spends three days trying to get Louis to remember him (because he never forgot)

Let Me Be Good For You

by onlyhuman | canon compliant | PWP | 12k His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world. Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

Oh How I Hate This Red String Of Fate

by CalamityK for H/L Exchange 2016 | soulmates | angst | 13k Harry thought being able to see people’s strings die would be the worst thing about his gift, until at twenty-two he finally met the other end of his own. --------- Or that soulmate AU where Harry can see the red strings of fate that tie everyone together.

Like a boomerang

by youwilll | Groundhog Day AU | College AU | 48k AU in which Harry gets trapped in a lift, Louis gets stuck in a Wednesday, and it's always February 2nd. Until it isn't.

Life as we know it

by Rearviewdreamer | friends to lovers | kid!fic | 34k When a couple dies unexpectedly Harry and Louis are brought together to care for their daughter.

Counting the stars behind the clouds

by simplestardust | blind character | friends to lovers | 28k The problem wasn’t that Harry was blind. The problem was Harry himself. or, in which Louis plays keyboard as part of touring singer Harry's back-up band, and spends his time stuck between being oblivious and in denial, while Harry just wants to know how many stars there are in the night sky.

Head head heart

by Anonymous for Sub Harry Fic Fest | canon compliant | BDSM | Dom/Sub | 11k After Dunkirk has wrapped filming, Harry struggles with his inability to reach subspace. He tries taking the matter in his own hands before Louis intervenes with a plan of his own.

Reduce Me To A Pleading Cry (Break The Skin and Tantalize)

by Anonymous for Sub Harry Fic Fest | BDSM | Dom/Sub | CEO!Harry | 37k As the CEO of Styles & Styles, Harry Styles cuts a brooding and handsome figure at the helm of a very successful business. His reputation for intensity is well known, but you would be intense, too, if you had to work numbers all day, give countless orders, and conduct endless meetings. When all you really want to do at night--ache to do--is give away the reins, let someone else make the decisions, be ordered around for once, just--let go. Harry has reached his breaking point when one touch from a man whose very stance commands attention leads him back to a place he thought he’d never return. Or Harry is a broody submissive boss, Louis is a natural dom who works in the mail room at Styles & Styles, Niall is a matchmaking oracle, and a slender, dark haired man stands mute at the coffee stand encouraging others to spill their secrets.

(I didn't mean to) fall in love tonight 

by zouisclimax | High School AU, mpreg | 35k Harry texts him back a thumbs up emoji before leaning forward and throwing up again. He groans, but stands after he’s done, wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and flushing the toilet. He washes his mouth out as best as he can before steeling himself and heading back to class, trying his best not to cry. He tells himself that there is no point in worrying when he doesn’t even know if there is anything to worry about yet. He still feels sick. [or, the American boarding school AU where Harry's infatuated with Louis and one night flips his whole world upside-down]

With your love we could breathe underwater

by luminescents for HL summer fic exchange | fantasy | Mermaid!Harry | 28k Harry’s brow furrows, a look of confusion spreading over his face. “But I am real. I exist, see,” he says, raising a hand out of the water and wiggling his fingers at Louis. Louis finds himself relaxing a bit. Harry seems harmless really. And he’s quite cute, for something that’s not supposed to exist. If Louis is indeed having a hallucination right now, at least it’s a cute one. AU where Harry is a mermaid, Louis is a human, and they both discover a lot more than they anticipated.

Sex Shop Fic Verse: It's My Pleasure To Introduce You  & Switch Out The Batteries

by LoadedGunn | Sex Shop AU | 8k Louis cannot help himself. He stretches a bit so he can whisper in Harry's ear, "That's what I'd do to you, when you're close to coming. Just think. You'll be so overwhelmed but you won't want it to end, not really, so I'll switch it to the seventh setting, give you just a few seconds to catch your breath but then it'll rock inside you, right against your spot, so hard you won't be able to breathe, but before you can finally come it'll stop again. How long do you think you could keep it there, just staying right on the edge?" "I couldn't," Harry whispers, definitely shivering now. "I just couldn't tease myself like that, I'd have to touch my cock. If I wanted to... I'd need someone to do it for me." Louis slips his hands from Harry's fingers to his wrist, where he clutches hard. "You would." Or, the AU where Louis is the most helpful sex shop salesperson in the history of sex shops, and Harry really was just looking for a vibrator with simple instructions (yet ended up getting a hands-on demonstration).

by istajmaal, LoadedGunn | BDSM | Dom/Sub | Daddy kink | Gangbang 88k Harry raises an eyebrow. "Sex dice?" "Yup," Louis nods. "You know the ones we sell, one die for a body part and the other for an action to perform on that… part." "Isn't that what old married couples buy from you to spice things up?" Louis frowns and opens his mouth to tell Harry off, but then he catches his absolutely dreamy expression and can only laugh. "Yes dear, we're just like any middle-aged married couple. Except for the fact that we're in our twenties and have a box full of bondage gear under our bed." Two years after meeting in a sex shop, Harry's just returning to Louis from a month-long tour in the States, and they come up with a wholesome bonding exercise.

#wyhi #black with autumn rain #hold my heart #what do you mean he's coming? #singing to tiny dancer #my reads #monthly fic rec #fic rec #pairing: larry #sub harry fic fest #hl famous/not famous fic exchange #hl summer fic exchange #h/l exchange 2016 #we wish you a larry christmas fic exchange #completed fics #larry stylinson fics