#tucking away every vulnerable detail she shared for later use

[meredithbeckham]

when you grew up like we did, it… it impacts how you see the world. everything is filtered through a very specific lens. and ward got that.

i think it’s important to realize you can miss something, but not want it back, paulo coelho.

#daisyjohnsonedit #daisy johnson #aosedit #daisy x ward #anti skyeward #to be clear this isn't meant to romanticize them it's just exploring a facet of their dynamic i find interesting (and utterly terrifying #and sickening) #how much of daisy's connection to ward to begin with was in their shared abusive backgrounds #how he specifically could understand how she grew up and the impact it had on her and her worldview #it physically hurts me to think about how vulnerable she was with him and how much she trusted him with as her s.o #how much she would have felt for him in regard to his own abuse and wanted to help him and what a role that in of itself would have played #in their relationship and in her feelings #something i think aos does really well is allude to daisy's history - how clear it is that she is a survivor of abuse and how consistently #present that is in how she perceives and navigates the world #it's subtle but so very there #her face in that scene where ward goes off because of the staff. CHILLS #and it hurts me so very much to think of how connected she felt to ward in that regard while he himself was preying on and manipulating her #tucking away every vulnerable detail she shared for later use #how he convinces her to trust him and that he won't turn his back on her just to be yet another person who has abused her #how when he starts talking about how he isn't a good man it must be so easy to think he's just like her - thinking she's bad and worthless #and wrong and unlovable because that's what abuse does that's what it does to you #and daisy is so keenly aware of that so much more self-aware than she's given credit for #abuse / #daisy who is actually able to articulate what ward was to her and who maybe misses what she thought he was sometimes because how could #it not be nice to for a moment have someone who understood #but who is also so keenly aware of who he is and what he has done

[beefromanoff]

Going Under Ch. 5

summary: Bucky Barnes is assigned to head the security detail of an internationally beloved singer named Gianna as his next mission.

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: sleeping with a friend - neon trees; phantoms and friends - old man canyon

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: realizing this story combines all my favorite things right now...the Anakin/Padme dynamic of love interests/assigned protection, the Taylor Swift eras tour content all over my FYP, and of course, James Buchanan Barnes.

chapter list/links - xo

Standing backstage, Bucky shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans, watching as Gianna took the stage. Tonight’s show would be the first time she was performing the song they had written together live in concert, and he was nervous. Since it wasn’t recorded or released yet, she planned to sing it in the encore as a special acoustic version for her fans. He’d seen dozens of her shows, and every single one went to at least one encore, sometimes even more. The time she chose to do a third encore, Bucky had been tempted to walk out onstage, throw Gianna over his shoulder, and force her to leave the show. He’d held back, seeing the light in her eyes that didn’t seem to dim as she sang to a stadium full of people who adored her. He did, however, give Tom and the tour staff a very pointed warning that anyone who woke her up before noon the following day would risk losing the hand that knocked on her hotel room door. 

Several hours later, the final song faded out and all Bucky could hear were the screams of the crowd. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the deafening roar of tens of thousands of screaming teenage girls, made even more unbearable by his heightened super soldier hearing. 

“Great job, doll. Took my breath away.” Bucky winked, handing Gianna a glass of water as she walked offstage. She gulped the glass down, too parched to respond, but the look she gave him over the top of the plastic cup made his stomach turn. Her green eyes didn’t break eye contact with him as Kate dabbed her brow and another stage hand checked the settings on her earpiece. Gianna didn’t seem to notice anything but Bucky, and he almost felt himself shrink under her undivided attention. Especially knowing what she was about to do. 

Just like all the nights before, not one person had left the stadium. The chants of encore, encore echoed throughout the arena, only growing louder the longer Gianna held out. 

Tucking her hair back over her earpiece, she remained locked on Bucky. “Are you ready for this?” Her eyes showed genuine concern. “I don’t have to sing this one, if it’s too soon, if you’d rather not -” 

Bucky cut her off, tilting her chin up to look at him as he stood inches from her face. The cool vibranium felt heavenly against her hot skin as he did so. 

“I’ve been waiting for this all night.” 

He looked back and forth between her eyes, shoving down the nerves he felt at something so vulnerable about to be shared with thousands of people. He reminded himself that no one would know what the song was about, or the circumstances it was written under. No one would know about that rainy day in the hotel room that changed their relationship from contracted security to something deeper and not yet defined.  

Gianna nodded, a smile spreading across her pink glossed lips as she reached for her microphone from the stage manager standing beside her, parting the curtain. She took a deep breath, her chest twinkling with the sweat beads still illuminated in the neon lights. 

Turning on her heel, Gianna walked back to the stage, taking a seat at the piano on the far side. She was facing the side of the stage where Bucky stood in the wings, shifting his weight as he waited for her to begin. 

“If it’s alright with everyone tonight, I thought I’d play a little something I haven’t gotten to share with the world yet.” Gianna’s eyes twinkled as she teased the fans. The crowd erupted and lit up with tiny pinpricks of light from every phone rising into the air. It looked like she was singing to a sea of stars. Bucky swallowed nervously, trying to focus on the beauty of the moment and not the prospect of this song being played for millions of people via the internet. He always seemed to forget about it, no matter how many different iterations of it were scrawled down in his notebook. 

“Okay, okay,” Gianna laughed, quieting the crowd down. “This song was written on this very tour, with someone who has come to mean a great deal to me.” If it weren’t for his super soldier eyesight, Bucky would never have noticed Gianna’s eyes searching for him in the wings. He took a step forward, letting the light illuminate him while remaining hidden from the crowd. Her eyes softened when she spotted him. 

“This song is about strength, struggle, and coming back to ourselves on the other side. I hope you all feel a little of yourselves in this one. It’s called…Going Under.” 

The crowd roared and then quickly quieted down as she began to play, fingers dancing over the keys. Bucky stood stiff and still, soaking in everything from the sound of her voice echoing through the room to the fans in the front row wiping their eyes on their sleeves. 

Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies (so I don't know what's real)

(So I don't know what's real and what's not)

(Don't know what's real and what's not)

Always confusing the thoughts in my head

So I can't trust myself anymore

Gianna sang the lines that had gutted him the first time he heard them. After such a vicious struggle reclaiming his own mind, endless hours of work and therapy to find himself in his own mind, and years of brainwashing convincing him of what he was and what he wasn’t…these words sank heavily into his skin.

Her powerful voice filled the arena, stronger and bolder than the soft rendition he’d heard in the hotel room, and the words they had written together based on his history as the Winter Soldier took on new meaning.

For the first time, Bucky was able to see his horrific past as something other than shameful. He felt a sense of pride and gratitude that Gianna had been able to take his experiences and turn them into something beautiful. Everyone backstage had paused their closing duties to listen to her sing. He heard a chorus of soft voices saying “wow” and “this is her next hit” from the team gathered behind him. 

As the encore came to a close, Bucky stood ready to escort Gianna offstage. Instead of the usual hand outstretched to guide her to the green room, he greeted her with the tightest hug Gianna had ever felt. Typically the extent of their physical contact was Bucky’s hand grazing her back as he guided her through crowds, and that was mostly unintentional. This was different. Warm, firm, assuring, full of gratitude, and something else Gianna wasn’t sure if she was imagining. She closed her eyes and relaxed into him, feeling her sheer exhaustion for the first time all day. 

They stood like that for several moments before a sharp voice yanked them from their own world. 

“Hey! Stop! You can’t go back there!” Bucky opened his eyes to see a thirty-something man in a mask running towards Gianna, having hopped the barrier and evaded the preoccupied security. The man was barreling towards them with a crazed look in his eye, but didn’t appear to be armed. Bucky rolled Gianna behind him and took two powerful steps forward, left arm rearing back. There was a resounding thud as Bucky’s metal hand collided with the man’s skull, and a second one as the man landed on the stage, unconscious. 

Gianna gasped, unable to process what had happened in a matter of seconds, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. He put his arm around her shoulders and began weaving her purposefully through the backstage chaos. Her vision blurred with fear, confusion, and exhaustion as Gianna struggled t keep up with Bucky’s long strides. She heard him talking into his earpiece, but her ears were still ringing with the sound of the man’s head smacking the hard stage floor. 

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the warmth of Bucky pressed against her side and the weight of his arm resting on her shoulders. She heard a whoosh of the sliding door, felt the cool night air on her skin, and hear sirens in the distance. 

Gianna opened her eyes to see the black SUV parked right outside the back entrance to the stadium, but the bus was nowhere to be found. 

“Get in. We aren’t taking any chances.” Bucky growled, eyes scanning everything around them. Gianna nodded and climbed in through the door he was holding open for her. Bucky joined her in the backseat and the private driver peeled out of the parking lot. Glancing over at him, Gianna noticed that Bucky’s hand was firmly resting on his right hip, where she assumed he had a gun holstered. 

He must have felt her eyes on him, because he tore his eyes from the window and looked to his left where Gianna was sitting. His eyes softened, seeing her trembling from a mixture of fear, adrenaline, and cold sweat from the show. 

“Hey, don’t be scared, this is what I’m here for. We haven’t had an incident so far on this tour and nothing happened.” Bucky tried to keep the angry edge out of his voice. Reaching for her hand, he spoke softly. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise you, Gianna. That guy never had a chance.” He squeezed her hand and she smiled sheepishly. 

“Thank you, Buck. It all happened so fast, I didn’t even…and you moved so quickly…it was weird to see you like that, so intense…” She fumbled over her words, eyes glossing as she recalled the events playing out. Bucky stiffened next to her, worried that she was afraid of him. 

“It was cool, you know, seeing you like that.” She flipped her hand over to squeeze his. “You’re kind of a badass.” Bucky looked up and locked eyes with her again. 

“Just doing my job.” 

At that moment, with her green eyes locked on Bucky’s, it hit him how important his role on the tour was. He wasn't just there to protect Gianna physically, which proved to be more necessary than he’d originally thought, he was there to provide emotional support and comfort to a scared and lonely girl. Whether or not that was in the contract that Stark had given him, Bucky didn’t care. If he was all she had, he was determined to be everything she needed.

They took a service elevator back to the room and crept through the halls, Bucky remaining glued to her side as Gianna walked along. They got to her room and she slid the card into the door with trembling hands. 

“Your bag should already be on the bed, Tom gathered it for you. The room has already been cleared, but I can do it again if you’d like.” Bucky stood in the doorway, one hand above Gianna’s head to prop it open. 

“I’d appreciate that…y’know, can’t be too safe.” Gianna mumbled, flipping on every light switch in her reach. Bucky nodded and walked into the room, combing it for anything unusual. He ran his fingers over every door frame, checked each closet, and found nothing. 

“Alright doll, you’re good to go. You gonna be okay?” Walking over to where Gianna sat on the edge of her king sized bed, still in full sequin leotard and heels, he tilted her chin up to look at him. Bucky felt a pang in his chest when he saw the streaks where her tears had torn through her makeup. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all good. Thank you again.” She stood, mustering a smile. “Knight in shining armor and all.” Gianna reached for his hand, weaving her soft fingers through his metal ones. “Literally.” 

Bucky chuckled, relieved she still had her sense of humor after a rough night. 

“I guess that would make you a princess, which doesn’t seem like too big of a stretch.” Bucky’s voice was low and soft, gentler than she’d heard it before. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and regarded her for a moment. Gianna couldn’t read him if she tried. 

“If you need anything tonight, anything at all, just ring my room. I’ll be here before you can even get my name out.” He squeezed her hand. 

Gianna felt a lump in her throat and hot tears welling up. Not wanting to seem childish or weak for being so upset over something that almost happened, she didn’t speak. She fixed her eyes on the ground and nodded, standing to walk him to the door. 

As Bucky walked through and pulled out his keycard from his back pocket, he heard Gianna’s voice, barely above a whisper. 

“Don’t go.” 

He hesitated, unsure if he heard what he thought he did. He looked over his shoulder, still holding the room key in his right hand. 

“Stay with me. Please.” 

She stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind with all the lights in the hotel room left on. The way the rays of light shone around her made her look like some kind of angel. Some kind of sad, scared angel. Bucky let the door fall shut behind him and crossed the hall towards her. 

“Whatever you need.” 

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, unsure how he’d respond to her asking him to stay the night with her. Even given the circumstances, there wasn’t any way around the fact that her room only had one bed. 

“Give me two minutes to get my stuff, I’ll be right back.” Bucky gave her a reassuring look. “You can time me if you want.” 

Gianna smiled at the super soldier’s attempts to be goofy, and slunk back into her room. She wiped off her makeup, throwing her lashes in the garbage and running the hottest shower the hotel pipes had to offer. She heard Bucky let himself back in and set his bag down outside the bathroom door. 

“I’m here, doll. Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.” He rapped his metal knuckles softly on the door, a random but comforting thing he’d taken to doing when he had to retrieve her from her hotel room in the morning or green room before the show. 

After scrubbing her skin and rinsing all the hairspray and most of the glitter from her hair, Gianna emerged from the bathroom in the hotel’s plush robe and slippers. Her feet ached from the extended time in her heels tonight. The excess cushion in the slippers felt like heaven. She rounded the corner into the bedroom to find Bucky pacing, talking on the phone. 

He’d turned off the overhead lights but left all the lamps on, and even pulled back the covers so the bed was prepared for her to collapse into.

“I gotta go, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Bucky said to whoever was on the other end of his call. “Yeah, send me any details you can come up with. Thanks Nat.” 

Bucky shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, a look Gianna couldn’t help but appreciate. He was typically in slight variations of the same outfit every day. Leather jacket, dark jeans, tactical boots, various holster buckles visible from different angles when he moved. 

Tonight, he looked softer, more human. He wore dark grey sweats with a black t-shirt that read Stark Enterprises across the chest. She let her eyes wander over him, soaking in this unfamiliar look. The shirt was snug across his chest and even more so on his arms. The short sleeves revealed more of his metal arm than she was used to seeing, and it caught the lamp light when he moved. Bucky ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, turning to face Gianna. The dog tags hanging around his neck clinked as he lowered his hand.

Tousling her damp hair with the towel, Gianna sat down on the bed. “Who’s Nat?”

“Natasha, she uh, works with me. She’s good, we should know this guy’s blood type and childhood stuffed animal’s name by the time we wake up in the morning.” 

“Natasha, she’s Black Widow right? I’ve seen her before, online and on the news, and wow - I can’t believe you just called her up, you are way, WAY cooler, than me…” Gianna gushed. 

Bucky couldn’t help but notice how young she looked. The excitement over Natasha, her bare face and wet hair, the way she was swallowed up by the robe and the giant bed, she seemed so small. So innocent. So undeserving of tonight’s circumstance. Selfishly, part of him was glad it had happened. He wasn’t sure there was really a need for him on this tour or if Tony had just given him this assignment to throw him a bone and keep him busy. 

Now, after tonight, he knew he was there for good reason. He tried to force away the small part of him that was thankful for the scare, because without it, he wouldn’t be crossing the room to spend the night with Gianna Cruz. 

He perched on the edge of the bed, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Feel better?”

She nodded and widened her eyes to show how serious she was. “Oh, god, yeah. The attempted assault, or whatever that was, that was bad, but those heels were the real crime.” 

“You’re a real trooper.” Bucky teased. “I figured I’d just sleep on the chair, I don’t want -” 

“No!” Gianna startled him with her abrupt response. “Sorry, I uh, I just really want…I want to be held tonight.” Looking down at her hands in her lap, she fidgeted with the belt of her robe. 

“It’s just been lonely, I guess, and tonight was so scary, and sometimes I have nightmares anyways, and you’re already here so I just thought…maybe you wouldn’t mind…” As she trailed off, she looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes. When he saw the way she looked up at him, his heart melted and turned to stone all at once. He knew he would do anything this strawberry blonde little thing asked him to do, hell, he’d throw himself off another train if it meant keeping her safe. He knew that he’d stop at nothing to protect her, and that scared him. He knew what he was capable of without having someone dear to him to protect…but now? He pushed the thought out of his mind and smiled. 

“Whatever you need.” He sat down beside her, sliding his legs underneath the plush white comforter. Propping his back against the wall, Bucky lifted his arm so Gianna could crawl underneath it. She rested her head on his chest and nuzzled in, her hair leaving a damp spot on his shirt. He felt her sigh and then relax, as if she hadn’t taken a deep breath all day. Her shoulders rose and fell with her breathing, and Bucky used his left hand to stroke her hair out of her face. 

Her eyelids fluttered open and looked up at him one more time. Wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, Bucky knew that he couldn't erase the trauma of what had just happened, but he could be there for her in that moment. He could stay through the night and until she didn’t want him there anymore. 

As they laid together, Bucky realized that he had come a long way since he first started working with Gianna. He had gone from being a distant and cold bodyguard, reluctantly assigned to protect a twenty-something singer, to being the one holding her as she fell asleep.

“G?” Bucky asked softly, wondering if she’d drifted off yet. 

“Mm-hmm?”

“Your song was incredible tonight. I never got to tell you.”

Her cheeks turned the slightest bit pink, and he saw her smile into his chest.

“Our song.” 

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x oc #james bucky barnes #avengers #winter solider x reader #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier

[squidbrain]

All I've Ever Wanted

A Captain Rex x Oc fan creation!

The Clone Wars changed everything. Danger was seeping into even the safest of places. A peaceful planet finds itself wrapped up in a political uproar that endangers the royal family. The Jedi Council assigns the 501st to assist establishing a Clone presence on Ziphus. Their Captain takes on the task of protecting Ziphus’ Archduchess, a young diplomat named Sarela, but she proves to be quite a handful for the stoic soldier!

18+ only! Later chapters will have mature themes and explicit writing!

Chapter Two: The Captain

Captain Rex and his boys in the 501st have been on enough high stakes missions to last a lifetime, so who better to guard a royal family in danger?

Prologue

Chapter One

“Once my ass hits that bunk, I’m never getting up again.”

Rex looked up from his datapad. He watched Fives drag himself across the room and flop down on his bunk. He let out a long groan and closed his eyes. Rex smirked and breathed the tiniest laugh.

After being out on a string of missions, back to back, he couldn’t blame his boys for being tired. He took a moment away from his report to look around the barracks. Jesse was sitting up on his bunk. Tup was sitting up on his own, above Jesse’s. Echo was at the foot of his own, removing and storing his armor. He nudged Fives to do the same, but he only got a groan in response. Appo passed them, chatting quietly with Kix.

“How long will we be down for?” Echo asked as he climbed into the bunk above Fives.

The question was aimed at Rex, but Jesse answered before he could. “With our luck? Six minutes.”

Rex laughed again and shook his head. “No rest for the best, boys.”

They all shared a tired laugh. Rex looked back at his datapad and scrolled through the mission report. He wanted to make sure the details were exactly right before he sent it off.

What he didn’t expect was his comm to go off. Fives groaned loudly. Rex shot him a glare and then answered the call.

“Rex, I need you on the bridge in five. The Council has a mission for us,” came General Skywalker’s voice.

“Right away, sir,” Rex replied. The call cut out.

Fives peeled his eyes open and looked at Rex. “No rest, eh?”

Rex grinned as he set his datapad aside. “Not for the best, Fives.”

Fives offered him a smirk. “Lemme know when you need me.”

Rex headed out quickly, tucking his helmet under his arm as he walked.

He was on the bridge in four minutes and as he walked in, he saw a smirk hit Commander Tano’s lips.

“Four minutes, Captain,” she said.

He returned the smirk. “I’m efficient.”

General Skywalker smiled and motioned to the war table. The holograms of two Jedi and a few clones were waiting patiently, Cody among them. Rex saluted them and stood at the ready.

Master Obi-wan spoke first. “The Council recently became aware of a situation on the planet Ziphus. Their Prime Minister received a few messages hinting at a possible alliance with the Separatists, but during the opening address of their congress they were interrupted by our old friend Count Dooku.”

“Gotta love when he comes around,” Ahsoka grumbled.

A Cathar male nodded. “Quite true, but we fear he won’t let Ziphus slip away so easily.”

“Anakin, we want the 501st to guard the royal family and the Prime Minister. Master Ornil’s battalion will set up a clone presence on the planet,” Obi-wan explained.

Anakin smirked. “You can count on us, Master.”

“Master Ornil will meet you on the planet. Get there quickly and secure the palace,” he instructed.

“Guard duty seems a bit low for us,” Ahsoka said, crossing her arms.

“Aw, come on, Snips. Every mission has its importance,” Anakin said, nudging her arm.

“Ziphus is a planet vital to the Republic. The revenue alone is extremely high, but its placement in the system could leave several smaller planets vulnerable if overtaken. We are counting on you to ensure the safety of the royal family and thus the loyalty of the planet,” Obi-wan explained.

Anakin smirked again and waved a hand. “Don’t worry, Master! We’ll take care of it! We always get the job done!”

“Yes, but your methods worry me,” Obi-wan sighed.

Anakin shrugged. “But my methods produce results.”

Aksoka rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Master Kenobi. As boring as guard duty is, we’ll take good care of the royal family.”

Master Ornil chuckled. “We’ll secure the planet as fast as we can and get the 501st flying off to more exciting adventures, Commander.”

The image fizzled out and Anakin sent the planet’s coordinates to their navigator. He smiled at Rex and Ahsoka. “Ready for an easy mission?”

“Are they ever easy? You know this is gonna go belly up,” Ahsoka said.

“With any luck, it won’t. Master Obi-wan was right. Ziphus sits too close to the capitol. If we lose it, it could leave Coruscant vulnerable to attack,” he explained.

Rex nodded. “Don’t worry, General. My boys’ll get the job done.”

Anakin beamed. “They always do, Rex! Go get them briefed and ready. We’ll be jumping in a few minutes.”

Rex nodded again and headed back down to the barracks.

He found his boys right where he left them. Fives looked up at him as he walked in and tossed his helmet on his bunk.

“We’re on guard duty, boys,” he said, setting his hands on his hips.

“Guard duty? Chancellor moving around?” Jesse asked.

“Not the Chancellor this time. We’re heading to a system called Ziphus. The Seppies wanna sink their claws into it and it’s our job to ensure the safety of the royal family,” he explained.

Fives smirked. “So we get to play with princesses, eh?”

“With your luck it’s a totally male family,” Echo said.

“Not according to this,” Tup spoke up. He was on his datapad. “Emperor Tam has a wife and three children. Two girls and a boy.”

“So we get to play with princesses,” Fives chuckled.

“You better behave or I’ll decomm you myself,” Rex said, pointing at him.

Fives laughed again. “No, you won’t. You love me too much.”

“We’ll see about that when you’re in prison for toying with a princess,” Jesse said.

“Everyone in this company better be on their best behavior. We’re professionals and I expect you to act like it. Understand?” Rex said sternly.

They all nodded and confirmed they, in fact, understood him. Rex sat down on his bunk and slid his helmet underneath. He stretched out to get some rest and look over his mission report.

“I hope they’re pretty,” Fives mumbled sleepily.

“Will you shut up?” Jesse snapped.

Rex chuckled and shook his head. Professional soldiers or not, they were all just boys sometimes.

“I’m gonna make you guard the prince,” Rex said.

Fives scoffed loudly.

“Can I help?” Tup suddenly piped up.

Rex, and a few of the others, looked over at him. Tup blushed a little and shrugged. Rex smiled at the subtle confession.

“Sure, Tup,” he said.

He smiled back and stretched out on his bunk. He wiggled his datapad and glanced at the others. “You know, this Ziphus is a pretty place. Guard duty on this planet is gonna be a nice change of pace.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” Fives said.

“General Ornil is setting up a base and once he’s finished and a team has been assigned, we’ll be off again. Couple weeks, maybe,” Rex said.

“General Ornil?” Echo questioned. “281st, right?”

Rex nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“I know their Captain. He was recovering on Kamino while we did our Arc training,” he said.

“Recovering from what?” Jesse asked.

“Got his chest cavity crushed,” Fives replied.

“And he lived?!” Jesse shouted.

“Armor saved his life. Took a while to get him back on his feet. He was doing p-t on Kamino and working with Alpha to get him ready to go again,” Echo said. “What was his name, Fives?”

“Bren,” he answered. “He’s a good guy.”

Rex remembered the name. He was sure he’d met him before, but he couldn’t think where. “Hope he’s doing alright.”

“Me, too,” Echo said.

The boys continued to have light conversation, sharing expectations about their upcoming mission and little anecdotes from the past until one by one they drifted off to sleep.

Rex was the last to turn in, as he usually was. He finalized his report, submitted it, and turned off the datapad. After shedding his armor and stowing it properly, he hit the bunk and laid his head back against his pillow.

Sleep came easily to his exhausted body, but it was interrupted far too soon for his liking. He was being gently shaken and he groaned in protest.

“Rise and shine, Captain!” Commander Tano said cheerfully. “Skyguy wants you on the bridge in ten.”

He rubbed his face with one hand and sat up slowly. He nodded and stifled a yawn. “Yes, sir.”

She gave his shoulder a good pat and headed off. He looked around at his men, who were all slowly coming to life. He climbed out of his bunk and shivered when his bare feet hit the durasteel floor.

As he pulled his armor on, a few of the boys exchanged grumbly good mornings with him as they shuffled about. He yawned and grumbled and stretched to shake off the sleep and headed up to the bridge.

When he arrived he looked at Ahsoka, who had quite the grin on her face.

“Eleven,” she said. “Thought you were efficient?”

“I am,” he replied. “Just usin my change from yesterday.”

She shook her head and looked up at Anakin. “So what’s the word?”

He smiled. “Master Ornil will be arriving in a few hours. He has his battalion ready to occupy the planet. We’ll be heading down to meet with the royal family within the hour, so get your boys ready to go.”

“Right away, General!” Rex replied, saluting him.

Rex turned and hurried away from the bridge.

He gathered his boys and had them briefed as quickly as he could. He made sure they had all of their equipment and ushered them all off to the hangar. Drop ships were waiting to take them to the planet below. Anakin and Ahsoka joined them soon after and they were off.

When they broke the atmosphere, he had a look out the port windows. Tup was right. It was a pretty planet. Lush and green, sparkling blue waters. Reminded him of Naboo.

Anakin stepped forward. “Men, I want this mission handled with the utmost care and professionalism. Ziphus is an important system and we cannot let it fall into Separatist hands. Understood?”

They all saluted and shouted in the affirmative. Rex didn’t worry a bit. He knew his boys would handle this.

“General, we have clearance to land and we’ll be touching down momentarily,” came the pilot’s voice over the comm.

“Excellent!” Anakin replied.

When the ship touched down and the doors opened, Rex and his boys spilled out. They spread out over the landing site and had a look around. There were Ziphan guards waiting nearby with a well dressed man. He waved to them as Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex approached.

“Good day, General,” he said. “I thank you for coming so quickly. My name is Nej Vane, advisor to his Majesty Emperor Tam.”

Anakin and Ahsoka bowed politely.

“Our company will be taking care of security for the royal family. Another company is behind us who will establish a base of operations and handle setting up a clone presence on the planet,” Anakin explained.

“Excellent, General. Come this way and I’ll take you to the palace,” Nej said.

Anakin and Ahsoka joined Nej in his transport while Rex and his team joined the Ziphan guards in theirs. Rex looked them over and made notes about the weapons they carried. Long range blaster rifles and a single blaster pistol. Rex frowned. Not enough against a droid company. He was glad they were there.

One of them tipped his chin up and caught Rex’s attention. “You the captain?”

Rex leaned forward and nodded. “I am. You are?”

“Gabe Nal. Major in his Majesty's army,” he replied. He held a hand out.

Rex shook his hand and nodded again. “Good to meet you, Major.”

“You as well. We’ll be working closely together. I’m in charge of palace security,” Gabe said.

“Good man. We’ll need a detailed blueprint of the palace. Access points, weak spots, and your command center,” Rex said.

“Of course,” Gabe nodded. He suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. “Do I use your..number? Seems demeaning and I’d rather not.”

Rex smirked and shook his head. “Name’s Rex.”

Gabe smiled and looked a tad relieved. “Well met, Rex.”

When the transport arrived at the palace, Anakin waved on to follow them inside. He turned to Appo and instructed him to work with Gabe.

“He’ll help you map the perimeter of the palace grounds and go over entry points. I trust you to handle this for me,” he said.

Appo nodded. “You can count on me, Captain.”

He saluted and approached Gabe, who was standing nearby with his own soldiers. Rex followed his commanders inside the palace.

He was used to seeing grand buildings and ornate palaces by now. He’d been all over to reassure kings, queens, dignitaries, and all manner of folk that their planets were safe from the droid army. He kept his eyes forward.

Nej led the group through the palace until they reached the throne room. He opened the doors and stood aside for them to enter.

Dead ahead in the center of the back wall was a grand throne. Ornately carved wood with gold filigree along the back. A smaller throne of similar style sat next to it, one step below. Emperor Tam and his wife were atop these thrones.

Standing to Tam’s right was a young woman, the spitting image of the Empress seated on Tam’s left. To the left of the Empress stood a young man and woman. Most obviously they were his children, but he wondered why they were separated.

The three of them bowed deeply.

“Emperor, I hope you’re well,” Anakin said as he straightened.

Tam smiled some. “I’d be better if it wasn’t for these uncertain circumstances.”

“There is quite a bit of tension now that Dooku has made his intentions clear,” Empress Thena said sadly.

Anakin nodded and brought his hands together in front of him. For such a chaotic figure, the General could really pull himself together and emit such a calm. Rex respected the duality of it.

“We’re here to ease that tension, Empress,” Ahsoka replied.

“Emperor, my name is Anakin Skywalker. This is my Padawan learner, Ashoka Tano and Captain Rex of the 501st legion,” Anakin said.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Empress Thena said with a smile.

Tam smiled a little wider, then motioned to his right. “Please allow me to introduce my heir, Archduchess Sarela.”

Rex watched Sarela curtsy to them, bowing her head slightly. He made a mental note that he specified heir. She would need to be well guarded.

Tam waved to his left. “And also my son, Duke Edric, and my youngest, Duchess Helene.”

Edric and Helene bowed and curtsied to them as well. Rex remembered Tup’s insistence in helping guard Edric. He smirked behind his helmet.

The trio bowed to the royal children. Anakin spoke to them, “You have nothing to fear. Captain Rex has a skilled team and in their care you’ll be quite safe. Won’t even know anything’s changed.”

Rex nodded.

“Everything’s changed, Master Jedi,” Sarela said softly.

“Cherub,” Tam said. A small, but gentle warning.

“Please, your Highness, continue,” Anakin said to her.

“Our people are scared for their lives. As are we. I don’t doubt the skill of your men, but I doubt things will feel normal,” she said sadly.

Ahsoka nodded. “Well, then we’ll do our best to make things as easy as can be. You’ll be safe, your Highness, and so will your people.”

She nodded and said nothing more.

“Sarela has quite a full schedule, Captain,” Thena said. “Will she be alright moving between the palace and the State house? Or should she conduct business from here?”

Rex considered. “I’ll guard her myself, Empress. Under my care she’ll be free to travel to any destination necessary to conduct her business.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Does this mean you’ll reopen congress, your Majesty?” Sarela asked. “Since we were interrupted.”

“Oh, yes, your nerd speech,” Helene said suddenly. “You were so excited over it.”

“Helene,” her mother warned.

“What?”

“Helene, this is quite a serious matter,” her father said.

“I never said it wasn’t!” she defended with a little smirk.

He gave her a look, but it could hardly be called a scolding one. Rex got the impression that his children had him wrapped around their little fingers. Which could prove troublesome if they didn’t want to behave. He’d give them the benefit, though, and wait to see what they were like when it came to taking orders.

“I will reopen congress tomorrow,” he said evenly.

Sarela smiled. She had a charming little smile.

“We should discuss your schedule, your Majesty,” Anakin said.

Tam stood and nodded. “Right this way, General.”

Anakin turned to Rex and Ahsoka. “Ahsoka, I want you to go with Empress Thena. Rex, I’ll leave it up to you to assign guards to the Emperor’s children. You know your boys best, so I trust you to assign them properly.”

Rex nodded. “Yes, General.”

Ahsoka smiled at the Empress. “Lead the way, your Majesty.”

The two Jedi followed the Ziphan rulers out of the throne room, leaving Rex with the royal children. He raised his arm and spoke into his comm.

“Sergeant, send Fives, Echo, Tup, and Jesse to the throne room,” he said.

“Right away, Captain,” Appo replied.

Rex looked around the throne room while he waited. The siblings came together in front of the throne. He watched them for a moment.

Helene pointed to her father’s throne. “Sarela, when you sit back on the throne, do your feet touch the floor?”

Rex watched Sarela gather her skirts and sit down. She wiggled backwards until she was against the seat back. Her little feet, in fact, did not touch the floor. It only then occurred to him how much shorter she was compared to him.

Sarela snickered. “No.”

The three siblings burst out laughing and Sarela kicked her feet.

“Baby queen!” Helene laughed.

Sarela laughed harder and pounded her fists on the arms of the chair. “My first royal decree is the abolition of nap time!”

The three laughed quite hard. Rex couldn’t help but chuckle. In this moment they really did forget their troubles. He didn’t want to disturb them.

“A toybox in every household!” Edric laughed.

Around her deep belly laughs, Helene wheezed out, “Blankies for all!”

They laughed themselves to tears until the doors opened. His boys came in, walking up the long center carpet until they reached Rex. The siblings settled and Sarela stood up off the throne.

“Alright, boys, listen up. Fives, Echo, you’ll be guarding Duchess Helene. Jesse, Tup, Duke Edric,” Rex said.

“Yes, Captain,” they said in unison.

“Study their schedules, vet their staff. They don’t leave your sight. Am I understood?” Rex asked.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Tup and Jesse followed Duke Edric. He explained his schedule as he walked with them.

Duchess Helene smiled at the Domino twins. “Be ready to die of boredom. My first appointment today is with the modiste.”

“The what?” Fives questioned.

Helene giggled. “The dressmaker.”

Fives nodded slowly. “Right. Well, lead the way, your Highness.”

Helene gave her sister a kiss on the cheek and she spoke softly to her. They parted and Helene led the twins away. That left Rex and the Archduchess.

He turned to her. “Madam, I will do whatever I can to make you feel safe and as undisturbed as possible.”

She smiled at him. “I am most certain that I’m in good hands with you, Captain.”

Rex offered her an arm and she took it quickly. They walked together toward the door.

“Where to first?” Rex asked.

Sarela smiled. “I need to get to the State house. I have a few meetings with the governors today.”

Rex nodded and led Sarela outside. Her speeder was waiting nearby. The speeder was surrounded by Ziphan guards and clone troopers. With the bulked up security, it was unlikely anyone would get within ten feet of her.

Rex was more than confident that he could keep this tiny princess safe.

Hope you enjoyed!! <3

The post dividers are made by @saradika ! I have linked each image to the original post for ease of finding them!

Get away from me, Disney

#my work #star wars #star wars fanfiction #writing #captain rex #orginal character #clone oc #jedi oc #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #captain rex x oc #fives and echo #sergeant appo #jesse ct5597 #tup #clone wars kix #the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #clone troopers #star wars the clone wars #star wars oc

[yourlocalweirdo-3000]

sanemi x reader, platonic genya x reader

a/n: okay there's barely any x reader stuff in this, it's basically you comforting these boys, y'know y'know *gay hand flap* (i'm LGBTQ+ dw I'm not like, appropriating the hand flap thing or whatever). Anyhow, enjoy <3

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

GENRE: Fluff, Comfort. Reader is a demon, and a demon slayer. Gender-neutral reader as well.

WARNINGS: Sanemi cussing, feelings of loneliness, a whole lotta comfort and acceptance. Sanemi briefly threatening you and you not putting up with it. It's mentioned that Sanemi is a little taller than you.

     Genya was always alone.  That's something you noticed.  Tanjiro was the only one who made a real effort to be around him.  It made you sad, because you knew how it felt, and how lonely he must be feeling.  No one made the effort to be around you, either, besides Tanjiro.  

    It started with bringing him food.  You asked him if you could join him while he ate, and were pleasantly surprised that he agreed. He was so shy at first, and didn't really make conversation, but you didn't mind.  And that was the start of your friendship; you'd bring him food, ask him how his day was, and wish him a good night's rest when it was over.  You did this whenever you could, and sometimes Tanjiro joined you.  It was remarkably peaceful.  

    Eventually, Genya opened up to you.  He'd talk in more detail about how his day went, and he'd even share stories with you about what happened on his missions.  You complimented him on his vulnerability, telling him how strong it was to be vulnerable.  He'd duck his head and tell you it really wasn't, which sent a sharp feeling of pain in your heart.  Did he really not see himself as strong, the way you did?  You let it be, for now. 

    You opened up about your past. How you became a demon, and how you lost your family.  Genya was very accepting, and it made you feel a lot better about it.  And then, he told you about his past too. About how his mom turned into a demon, about how Sanemi had to kill her, about how truly weak he felt. He told you about how Sanemi no longer acknowledged him.  It hurt your heart, but you knew it hurt Genya's heart even more so. 

    "Can I please hug you?" You pleaded.  This kid was so hurt, you just wanted to make him feel better in any way you could.  He nodded without meeting your eyes, and you embraced him. 

    He was a little unsure at first, almost like he forgot how to hug, but soon he gripped you like his life depended on it.  You pretended not to notice his tears on your haori. 

    I guess Sanemi caught wind of it, because it wasn't long before he threatened you to stay away from his brother.  Although not much taller than you, he cornered you against a wall and was dangerously close to choking you. 

    "Sanemi Shinazugawa." Your voice was firm, almost angry, and you said his full name like a mother did when she meant business.  "As much as I want to listen to you, I'm not going to leave Genya alone. He's hurting, Sanemi, and contrary to what you think, pushing him away and ignoring him is only going to make it worse." 

    "And what the fuck do you know?!" He seethed. 

    You were close to snapping. "I know more than you, child, I am centuries older than you."  You shoved him away from you, and advanced on him until he was the one backed up against the wall.  "How do you not realize that the whole reason he's doing this demon slayer thing, is to get your attention?!  How do you not realize that by ignoring him, you're practically digging him an early grave?!" 

    You glared up at him, and he tried to regain control of the situation. 

    "How dare you—"

     "No, how dare you."  Your passions clashed, there was a moment of dead silence, and then your gaze and voice softened. "Please, Sanemi.  I don't want him to be a demon slayer any more than you do.  If you're serious about protecting him, you should help me.  He needs you, he really does, and he tells me how much he misses you every day."  

   You see the resolve in his eyes waver, and his lip quivers briefly, but you don't have a chance to examine this before he shoves you off of him and strides away.  You sigh, and pray that the relationship between these brothers would get better.  

   A few nights later, when you return to your room, Sanemi is there.  He sits on your futon with his gaze focused on the ground.  He doesn't respond to your tentative greeting, sighing instead as he prepares to say his next words. 

   "...How do I help him?" His voice is so soft when he says this that you can't hardly believe it's Sanemi who said it.  He's never showed such vulnerability with you. 

    You smile. "First, you've gotta show him that you care.  Then I'll help you convince him to leave the Demon Slayer Corps.  And you need to talk about why you pushed him away; not only would it help convince him to leave the Corps, it would help mend the relationship between you two."  

    Sanemi nods somberly, still with his back facing you. "...How do I show him that I care?" 

   "Well, you could join us for dinner tomorrow.  I'll be there too; I can help break the ice and stuff if you're worried about it being awkward." 

   Sanemi nods again, and gets up to leave the room.  He pauses at the doorway though, and says thank you in a voice so quiet you barely catch it.  And then he's gone. 

    The next evening, you're sitting with Genya as usual.  He's chatting with you happily, and you tell him that there's a surprise coming soon.  He asks what it is but you simply put a finger against your lips, indicating that you weren't going to tell him.  When Sanemi shows up, Genya falls silent, eyes wide and mouth open with shock.  The quiet continues for a beat before Sanemi awkwardly says "hi" and joins you both on the ground with his own meal in his hands.  

   Genya stares. He looks at you, flicks his gaze back to Sanemi, and back to you. "Is this real...?" 

    You nod with a hopeful smile, reaching out and squeezing Genya's hand for reassurance.  He smiles wide, looking absolutely ecstatic at this turn of events, and soon enough the three of you are having normal conversation.  Sanemi, however, is uncharacteristically quiet, and soon asks if he can speak to his brother alone. 

    This makes Genya nervous, and he quickly looks to you for reassurance. 

    "It's alright, he's not going to be mean." You slap Sanemi on the back a little bit too hard, reminding him that you can and would beat his ass if he hurt Genya.  Sanemi growled at you but didn't retaliate. "I'll be around if you need me." 

   You pick up their empty bowls and leave, making sure that wherever you ended up wandering to, you wouldn't be able to hear them. 

   After a moment, Sanemi tries to start a serious conversation.  He apologizes to Genya, and explains his reasoning for pushing Genya away.  Genya nearly cries, and exclaims his forgiveness. 

   "Please just be my brother again.  Please." Genya begs, and it strikes a chord within Sanemi.  The brothers share a hug, and that's about all the sappiness Sanemi can take.  He bids goodbye, promises to see Genya again tomorrow, and leaves. 

    Genya sits there, starstruck.  He's so happy to have his brother back he can hardly contain himself.  He runs to find you, and when he does, he nearly bowls you over with his hug. 

   "Thank you thank you thank you !!" He doesn't even bother trying to hide his tears.  You pat his back and laugh with joy. Genya breaks away from you, hands on your shoulders, and asks you how you did it. 

    You shrug. "I was just honest, I guess.  I don't really know how I managed it; I'm just really glad it worked out." 

   Genya's smile is contagious, and you can't stop grinning yourself. You invite him in your room because he clearly wants to talk about it. 

    Time seems to get away from you as you conversate.  At some point while you're talking, you notice that he's fallen asleep, and sigh happily. You tuck him in as a mother would, and go and get a futon for yourself before rejoining him in your room and laying it next to his.  It's not long before you're fast asleep as well.  

#sanemi x reader #genya x reader #comfort #fluff #my writing #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #genya shinazugawa #kny sanemi #kny genya #kny scenario #kny scenarios

[darwin-xf]

Love is a Verb

His dick knew things.

In general, thinking with your little head not your big one got a bad rap.

But for him? The opposite seemed to apply.

Of course he’d been mortified when he sprung to life in her hand the night before, with Scully in full on doctor mode, acting so clinical and detached. While he was so very very exposed.

A wave of anger arose in the wake of his humiliation. At her. Which wasn’t fair. She was doing him a favor, after all. Examining him, because they were stuck in a crap motel in the middle of nowhere Florida, the day after a hurricane, flights snafued, roads clogged with debris. And him with a sea monster bite on his neck and an angry itchy red rash on his dick to match. She was caring for him, just like she always did. Even though neither one of them was exactly comfortable about the prospect.

But now, considering what that moment of vulnerability had led to, he was glad it happened. And hardly surprised.

And when his big head has been muddled and confused on a night a few weeks before? His dick had shown the way forward. When a different woman had laid her hands on him, slipped her tongue into his mouth.

He didn’t want her. He felt like a block of wood as she kissed him and touched him. And yet he let it happen. His mind filled with a fuzzy gray static as she whispered to him how she needed him, how she’d never stopped loving him, until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. She opened his pants and he let her, hungry for something she was offering. He would think a lot about that later.

But then his dick was in her mouth. And she worked it, employed all her little tricks. And still it stayed soft.

Until, giving up, she stood. She crossed the room and poured herself a scotch. He tucked his junk in his pants and zipped up. Not even embarrassed.

“You love her,” Diana said, her back to him.

He nodded. “I do.”

“But Fox,” she said, closing the distance between them, sitting down next to him, “She doesn’t know you like I do. There’s so much I want to give you...”

She launched into the pitch he’d heard from her before. Since she returned, she’d been whispering to him whenever she could get him alone, offering him access. “There are so many things we can accomplish together, Fox. Why would you want to keep toiling in the dark when you can shape the future of the human race? You’ve more than earned your seat at the table. And your voice is needed there...”

Though he never really felt engaged in these conversations, his big head listened to what Diana had to say.

But the little one was more persuasive. Not to mention more persistent. The truth was, Scully had been the only one able to get him off for months. Though of course she hadn’t touched him.

His extensive collection of salacious videotapes these days stayed tucked in their hiding places, moldering in their cases. The magazines delivered to his door each month, Penthouse and Hustler and Escort and Razzle and Club, remained stacked on his entryway table, their spines uncracked, their pages unperused. Most with the black no-see-um wrapper still intact.

A fact Scully discovered while visiting his apartment a few weeks before. She turned up on the late side one evening, work on her mind, files in her hand, her body tucked dutifully away in some dark suit.

“Oh that,” he said when she placed her palm on the towering cache of smut, popped an eyebrow in his direction. She had spent enough time in his space to understand that this was a departure from his usual behavior, where his porn was concerned. Whereby he’d rip the covers off the mags as soon as they arrived and leaf through them, looking for anything particularly good. He’d turn down the corners of memorable pages then leave them piled haphazardly around his place: on end tables, under the fishtank, next to his bed.

The explanation was not something he was prepared to share. So he thought fast, and invented something on the fly that seemed remotely plausible. “Yeah, the boys tell me that those are going to be collector's items soon. Print is dead, Scully. Everyone making the switch from atoms to bits and bytes. Paper’s so pulpy and inefficient. I have a book on it somewhere...” He riffled through his bookshelf, glad to escape her excruciating gaze. He plucked out a book and handed her a copy of Being Digital by Nicholas Negroponte. “He’s a smart guy. You should check it out.”

His effort to distract her was in vain. She put the book aside without glancing at the cover and continued to silently cross-examine him. He pretended to be interested in another book he’d pulled at random, but the moment stretched on uncomfortably. "I thought I could get more for them if they remained in pristine condition,” he said as he paged through the book he wasn’t reading. For all he knew he was holding it upside down. “You know how people keep their Star Wars toys in the boxes with the cellophane on?”

She shrugged, unconvinced. But she moved on, willing to let it go. Her stacked heels clacked obnoxiously against his hardwood floors as she slowly made her way into his living room.

He doubted she wanted to know the real reason. Though he was pretty sure he could turn the tables on her if he blurted it out. It would serve her right for the way she roamed around his apartment and let her eyes light on his stuff, storing her little data points in that mind, trying to figure him out. But maybe one day the tea leaves of his pitiable life she seemed so eager to read would finally speak to her. Maybe it would occur to her what was actually going on.

Which was that every time he touched himself, he imagined it was her hand. And he would try to switch things over, open one of his skin mags— his trusty strategy for years when it came to getting his thoughts off his partner and back where they belonged —but it wasn’t working anymore.

He’d listlessly page through the glossies, looking for a promising spread, land on some blowjob scene and eyeball it for a while. But when he got down to business it, was her mouth on him, warm and receptive, her eyes on his face, his hands in her coppery hair. He’d smolder for a while, thinking of her lips, her strong small hands, and always her eyes, then feverishly work himself up. And the magazine, forgotten, would slip away onto the floor.

On the bright side, his inappropriate intrusive fixation on his FBI partner was saving him two hundred bucks a month he used to spend on phone sex. The last time he dialed in he couldn’t even get it up. So he spilled his guts to one of his regular providers, droning on for forty-five minutes about how he had it bad for his partner, all the things she did that made him crazy, the reasons he couldn’t tell her. Realizing even therapy would be cheaper, and feeling like a terrible cliché, he’d quit calling those numbers.

His videos were his last line of defense. Their absorbing input had always been able to capture his attention, so he’d try one of those. It might work for a few minutes, but the real action was behind his eyes. In his mind it was her heels digging in to the small of his back as he plunged into her tight little cunt. She’d be beneath him hot and panting, open her mouth to moan and he’d stuff his fingers in, slide them wetly against her tongue. Soon he’d be picking up the pace... The television would blare fruitlessly in the background, rife with bad dialogue and silicone silo tits and oh babys. The money shot would come and go, unseen by him, and the screen would fade to black.

The reason porn had quit working was simple: in his fantasies, she always comes too. Usually more than once. He’d start slow, imagine he was taking his time kissing his way down her body. That could take a while. Then he’d tease her, rubbing the fat head of his cock up and down her slit. When she begged him to, he’d slip inside her and slam his hips forward. He’d hold there, bottomed out, and kiss her sweet mouth. Then he’d slide it in and out, looking into her eyes, feeling every inch of her.

Soon he’d need to fuck her harder, faster. He’d reach down to tease her clit until she was thrashing and pleading. Then she’d say his name, and her face would change, and she’d come on his dick. He’d watch her ride it out, humming with pleasure as her warm wet circles broke against him and travelled up his body in waves. Till his nuts and his gut and his heart and his throat and his brain were replete with her. Finally he’d come, imagining he was cradled by her hips and rocking, buried deep inside her, spilling his secrets into her ear.

In his dirty busy mind he’d already had her so many places and ways: in showers and motel beds, in cars and elevators, bent over his desk at work, the door unlocked, her skirt bunched around her waist, her drugstore pantyhose dangling from her ankle. Quick or slow or sweet or mean, acrobatic or missionary, rough or tender. Or both. God. Even boring. Just the two of them in his bed, nose to nose under the covers, whispering and giggling and whiling away a Sunday morning.

And the most pathetic and woebegone detail? Sometimes his fantasies contained no sex at all. He wanted to watch a movie with her feet parked in his lap. He wanted to shop for groceries with her and hold her hand on the walk home. To spend a weekend with her on the Vinyard and show her his old high school. He wanted to rub her back when she was sad and play footsie with her under the table during boring budget meetings. He wanted to gather her close and kiss her eyelids and hold her in his arms as she fell asleep. To watch her to rise naked from his bed and pull on his clothes she’d just stripped from his body. On red eye flights he wanted to leave the arm rest up and snuggle with her under those dingy felt blankets. To read to her while she soaked in the tub and find the nooks and hollows of her body where she was ticklish. He wanted to make her giggle, make her laugh, make her cry happy tears. He wanted to make her wet just with his voice. To lay in bed and watch while she got dressed for church. He wanted to kiss her in front of her idiot brother, maybe even slip her a tasteful amount of tongue. To shower with her before work, to soap her up and shampoo her hair. He wanted to stock his fridge with an assortment of her gross non-dairy yogurts.

Scully. Before she’d even descended into his office and introduced herself, he assumed she was a plant. Or a dupe, a patsy. Why else would a promising and talented young agent be conscripted to his lonely, disrespected division? Most likely she’d already agreed to keep tabs on him, to cast his work in a negative light. And even if she hadn’t, he was certain she’d be manipulated, using the lever of her obvious ambition, into doing so. He also suspected, since she’d spent most of her time thus far in the FBI in the lab or the classroom, that she was a house cat. The kind of agent who might hold romantic notions about working in the field, but who would soon balk at the grueling, unpredictable hours, the endless travel, the physical grind. And blanch at the dangers. It’s no kind of life for anybody who wants a life.

By the time their flight touched down in Oregon on that first case, he knew for sure that she was fun to spar with. And all kinds of smart. And even sort of cute. And while it can obviously be helpful to have a partner if things go sideways, he remembers hoping that didn’t happen to them before she washed out and retreated back to the lab. Because he suspected this itty bitty pathologist with zero field experience and impractical footwear? Would be more likely to become a liability than properly cover his flank.

After they’d worked a half dozen cases together, it was fair to say he’d reconsidered the hasty assumptions he’d made about Scully. Which is to say she surprised him at every turn. Except on the couple of occasions when she’d astonished him, leaving him flat-footed and slack-jawed in her wake. Against all odds, he had himself a partner. Which is not to say he fully trusted her. Not yet. And he doubted she’d hang around much longer.

But still. He’d learned that she was game. Skeptical and rational, but up for anything. She never complained about bad food or lumpy beds. And courageous, staring down firearms pushed in her face without blinking. She was fearless and cagy, and could take a punch or dish one out. And in the next moment she could soften, to connect with a suspect or a victim, to care for a child, or for him. She believed deeply in what she was doing. When he bumbled into trouble, which he seemed to have a knack for, she more than had his back. Yet when she’d sided with him and blew off her buddies from the Academy? It wasn’t loyalty to him she was demonstrating, but to the victims. To the truth. Above all, Scully was honest.

In some ways, he knew her so well. Yet all these years later there was there were aspects to her he could only guess at. Scully, he’d come to understand, was a deeply private person. Didn’t give pieces of herself away in idle conversation, like most people do. The fact that he was a trained and skilled profiler didn’t seem to help. In his fevered mind he’d become preoccupied with the things he didn’t know about her. Like how, exactly, does she like to be touched? He thought about that a lot. Is she a morning sex person? (God he hoped so.) Is she loud in bed? Or more quiet and intense? A little repressed, or wild and uninhibited? He could imagine it either way. Is she bossy? Submissive? A little of both? What does she taste like? Does she talk dirty? Will she like it when he does? (Because he definitely does.) How would he tease her? What are her kinks? Does she like it rough? And if he wanted to go down on her for hours, would she be okay with that?

So, yeah. He loved her.

That switch had been flicked for him on a steamy summer evening, a moment when he’d been staring down the real possibility of losing her. She walked away. He followed her, flew out his door like he’d been shot out of a cannon. Stormed up to her where she’d turned to face him in his hallway. Fists clenched, voice raised, he was in full on fighting mode. But he wasn’t fighting her. He was fighting to keep her. So instead of telling her off, as his body language suggested he might, he told her what she meant to him. How he needed her. Things he hadn’t even realized before they came out of his mouth. But all of it the truth.

She’d been girded and resolute, her body rigid and self-contained. But then she broke, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she softened and stepped into his embrace. He looked in her impossibly blue eyes glinting with tears and realized with dreadful certainty that, Christ, he was going to kiss his partner. More than that, if she let him, he was going to pick her up and carry her back through the door of his apartment and lay her down and fuck her.

That plan had been derailed, but the urge for him remained. And not long after, he gathered his courage and, with all the earnestness he could muster, he’d looked her in the eyes and confessed.

So he’d told her that he loved her. But had he shown her?

That was a thorny question, and it made him uncomfortable to consider it. Because he had to admit that for the most part, he hadn’t.

It was strange, but once his feelings for Scully had shifted, his behavior toward her had become less loving. For one thing, he didn’t let her in on that fact that she’d become the only featured player in his secret late-nite fantasy theatre. But more than that, he found himself especially irritable with her. Dismissive. Self-centered. Sometimes even cold.

When he was looking for an excuse to be angry with her, he told himself a story that she’d rejected him. Because, oh brother. But he’d seen her eyes go wide for an instant, felt her animal panic. She’d pored over his hospital chart and had to know he wasn’t high. So he’d concluded that she didn’t want him. Didn’t love him.

And Fowley’d chosen that inopportune moment to skip back over the pond and make a play for his ass. And though he had no interest in rekindling that relationship, just having her around reminded him of all the reasons it just might be a bad idea to get tangled up sexually with your partner.

More than that, even though he knew that Scully felt insecure because of Diana for several legitimate reasons, he hadn’t bothered to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about. When Diana called him and invited him downstairs for lunch, he’d go. Mostly to be near his files, and to mine the trashcans for cases when her back was turned. But he’d steal away from the bullpen, not tell Scully where he was off to, or why. He let her twist in the wind, wondering who Diana was to him and what her reappearance meant for their partnership.

It would make sense that once you’ve discovered the person you love, the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your days (not even to mention nights), the person who is, quite possibly, it for you? That you would try to make that happen. To lock that down. And yet he seemed to be doing everything but.

Even after she’d been shot by Ritter, and he’d almost lost her again.

And why was that? How to explain this puzzling behavior.

Maybe she didn’t want him, and he was just protecting himself.

The thing was, when he was being honest, he knew that wasn’t true. When he’d been about to kiss her in his hallway, she’d looked confused at first. And then concerned, with real fear flashing in her eyes. But by the time his lips were hovering over hers? They were on the same page. She’d gone molten in his arms, and her mouth awaited his, wet and ready. His body remembered how she’d opened to him, with her sweet breath and her fingers on his neck. He knew in his bones how that encounter would have ended, if not for that stupid fucking bee. Recalled it every chance he got.

As a psychologist, looking at the situation objectively? He’d have to conclude that he was engaging in some epic self-sabotage. Yup.

That night in her apartment when Diana had made her intentions clear, he’d agreed like some kind of docile sheep to join her. To scrum up with the other chosen few at El Rico Air Force Base as Armageddon loomed and save himself at the expense of the rest of humanity. And Scully, even though he wasn’t by her side where he belonged, was still fighting. For him, For them. For the truth. For the future.

And to repay her for her steadfast faith in him and devotion to their work? He was flirting with the one thing that could tear them apart. With inflicting a betrayal that could send her packing for good.

They’d dodged a bullet that night. More than that, they’d gotten their files back, and were free to resume their work. And by any measure he should have felt relieved. But he woke the next morning with a hangover worse than any he’d ever gotten from liquor. He looked in the mirror to shave and realized he couldn’t even meet his own gaze. He was ashamed. And he had to admit that he’d been seduced by Diana after all. Not into bed, but into complacency.

Needing some time and space to think things through, he called Skinner and redeemed a few vacation days. He threw some clothes in a bag and set out driving, not sure of his destination.

On the road, heading north, armed with this new clarity, he mulled things over. How was he going to feel, he wondered, when he succeeded and chased her away? That seemed to be his end game, after all. He knew what he’d do. He’d track her down to wherever she’d absconded to and interrupt her as she attempted to reboot her life. Then, looking desperate and half mad, he’d profess his love.

But it would be too late. She would conclude, quite logically, that he only wanted her when she was leaving. And even if she loved him like he hoped she might, she would not settle for that. Not Scully. And it would be selfish of him to ask her to.

It hit him then, with complete and utter clarity, that he had no idea how to love someone. He’d had bad models and a dearth of life experience in that arena. He knew how he felt. But love is a verb. It’s about what you do. She had taught him that.

He was good with the grand gestures, sure. Tracking her down at the bottom of the world and fishing her out of an enormous alien vessel, for example. Then breathing life back into her and hauling her to the surface while sidestepping rabid lizard monsters who swiped at them with razor-edged claws? Check.

But she needed more. For him to find mundane ways to express his care and concern, perhaps. To show her how much she mattered to him. How much he valued her and all the ways she contributed to their work. To his life. She needed to see that he put her first. She deserved these things. She had earned them. And he knew wouldn’t let him glimpse her secret self, let him know her like he desperately wanted to, until he gave them to her.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. But he knew he had to try.

He decided to start right away. He’d been thinking of her all morning, of course. About celebrating their return by pressing her her against a wall in their office and pushing into her, fucking her breathless and senseless before lunch, to be exact. But he hadn’t thought of her at all, he realized. Not really.

Scully. She’d be there right now, in the basement waiting for him, their first day back where they belonged. Wondering where he could be with half the morning gone. Bewildered as to what might be keeping him from reclaiming his precious turf. Maybe she already talked to Skinner and knew he was taking a few days off. Maybe she’d be worried. Or pissed. Or worse, wondering if he was enjoying a morning lounging in bed with a treacherous leggy brunette.

At the next rest stop, he pulled off and powered up his cell phone. He was relieved to see that he'd missed a call from her. She hadn’t given up on him yet.

Rather than listen to her message, he dialed her back. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey Mulder,” she said.

“Hey Scully,” he said. “Are you in the office?”

“I am,” she said. “Where I thought for sure you would be. Skinner told me you were on vacation. What’s going on?” Her voice was brittle. Defensive.

“I will be, Scully. I’ll meet you there. And soon. But I need to take care of a few things first.”

“Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “What kinds of things?”

“I, ah, I need to get my head straight before coming back. I’ve been mixed up. About some stuff.”

“I see,” she said.

They were both quiet for long seconds.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Me?” The question surprised her. “I’m good. Enjoying the quiet. Working on expense reports. Glad to be out of the bullpen.”

“You sure? You were popular, Scully. I think Agent Kargoll was working up the nerve to ask you out.” Mulder would glare at him as he brought her a donut on a little plate in the mornings. He’d leave it on the corner of the desk if she wasn’t in yet, like an offering to the high priestess.

“Yep,” she said. “I noticed that too. Reassigned in the nick of time...”

“I did my best to scare him off...”

“He was persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“He seemed like a nice enough guy. You could do worse than landing a boyfriend who arrives bearing gifts every morning...”

“I could do better, too.”

“No doubt,” he said. “What would be better than that?”

“Hmm. Why do you ask?”

“Research,” he said.

“Research,” she repeated. “Okay. Let’s see. The bearing gifts is ok. But maybe someone with some sense of what I actually like?”

“Let me jot that down,” he said. She snorted a little laugh. Which warmed him all the way through. “It’s true, Scully, you’re not a big fan of donuts. I benefitted from his crush on you more than you did.”

“I tried to wait until he had his back turned before handing those off to you...”

“You’re very kind,” he said.

Just then a truck blew by on the highway, laying on the booming brake, rocking his car.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I, ah, hit the road this morning. Just to think. Just to drive. But I suppose I’m heading home. To see my mother for a few days.”

“Everything okay?” she asked. He heard the concern in her voice, the fear that she’d be needing to tend to him trepanned and shocky, bail him out of jail. The usual.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or it will be. I really think it will be.”

“Allright Mulder,” she said after a long beat. “I’ll be holding down the fort. Drive safe. And keep in touch.”

“I will. And save me some of that paperwork, Scully.”

She laughed and hung up.

He had, in fact, visited his mother. She was glad to see him, and he stayed a few days, helped her out with some chores around the house. Got on a ladder and plucked the muck and leaves from the gutters, shifted some dusty furniture from the basement to the curb.

And he absorbed the silences of that house, his mother’s sadness, the way every possession, every exchange seemed steeped in a deep, abiding misery.

He remembered his mother different. Laughing, for example. Playing bridge with her friends, toying with her strand of pearls as she leaned in to gossip. Teasing him with a glint of joy in her eyes. Before Samantha had been taken.

It had broken her. Broken all of them. Now she ghosted around her own home, tending to her roses, watching television. Always alone. He lived much the same way. This was all that was left.

All because his father had been unable to protect them from the men he worked with, no matter how noble his intentions. The same men he had been tempted by Fowley to join up with, if he was telling the truth. Now they were reduced to ash. He had no idea what remained, but he knew he and Scully would find out.

By the time he climbed in his car to come home, he was committed to not making his father’s mistake. And to living differently. Less stubbornly solitary. To inviting some goodness into his life, no matter how strange it felt.

And last night, when it was actually happening, when he was wrapped up in bed with Scully in real life, it had been so vivid, so peculiar. As he rolled his naked frame against hers, time slowed down. In his head he heard the seconds ticking away distorted by doppler effect, whomp whomp. Felt his stiff prick slide against her buttery thigh, painfully slow. Pressed his ear to her chest. Imagined the steady squeeze and release of her heart beneath her breastbone. Heard the whoosh of her blood through her veins.

Looked up at her flushed face, this beautiful untamable breakable beast.

And he loved her.

He’d told her so.

Now he needed to show her.

Thanks for reading. Check it out at Ao3 This fic stands alone, but is also chapter 10 of Bedside Manner

#the x files #today in fic #msr fanfic #msr #mulder x scully #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #x files fanfiction #the x files fanfic

[milenadaniels]

Carve It Into Stone, 1574 words - Buck/Eddie + Chris, Sleepy Sickfic

(AO3 link)

Caught in the rhythm of routine, Eddie remembers a few moments too late that he’s meant to be entering quietly when he gets home from work. Or: a self-indulgent Buck and Chris napping together fic because of this post.

Caught in the rhythm of routine, Eddie remembers a few moments too late that he’s meant to be entering quietly when he gets home from work. The deadlock has already been turned but, wincing, he slides his key back out gently and palms the doorknob deliberately to prevent the familiar squeaks from reverberating through the house.

Once inside, he guides his duffel bag to the floor, not letting the strap clatter down as he usually would, and takes care as he bends down to unlace his boots and toe them off before padding into the living room, following the low sounds of the television.

On Thursday, Abuela asked for help figuring out the new tax software she wanted to use this year — it was very user friendly but she was very much in her 80s — and instead of subjecting Christopher to an entire afternoon and evening of boredom, Eddie asked Buck to pick him up from school and hang out until he could join them. He hadn’t known at the time that Christopher was sent home with a note saying he’d been sniffly and should be kept home until he felt better: new protocols in the mid/post-COVID-19 world.

Buck immediately got him a rapid test for COVID-19 and it was ruled out, and it didn’t present like a flu, it was just a hell of a cold. Mild fever, runny nose, body aches — the works. And Buck, who had been exposed for hours at its peak transmission period, did not escape it. Which made it handy when Eddie needed a sitter on Friday and Buck naturally had to call in sick himself.

Buck was sending him text updates all throughout his shift but they stopped suddenly a couple hours ago, so Eddie is not at all surprised to find them both out for the count.

Still, he’s not prepared to take in the sight of Buck stretched on his back, somehow fitting his 6’2 frame between each arm rest, and Christopher tucked snugly along his side, more on top of him than in the wedge between Buck’s body and the back of the couch. One of Buck’s hands is curled up by his face, while his other arm is holding Christopher to him as if there was a risk of falling. Christopher’s arm is tucked into his chest, and his head is resting against Buck’s collarbone, nearly tucked right under his chin and Eddie…

Eddie pauses.

He pauses and grapples with this picture of strength and fragility juxtaposed and blended together. Buck, built for strength and power, tenderly cradling his young son. Both of them unstoppable forces of energy and unrestrained joy, both cast down together by germs they just have to weather.

Both of them here, recovering together, safe under Eddie’s roof, under Eddie’s watch now.

He feels suddenly like he’s walked blindly into a moment in the course of his life whose significance he can’t yet pinpoint and he thinks if he just stays here, quiet, still, he might be able to reach out and understand it.

Christopher’s glasses are on the table nestled between a tissue box and two empty glasses of water, indicating one of them knew they were headed towards an extended nap before they settled in and somehow that detail tugs at his heart fiercely. To imagine Buck watching Christopher get sleepier and sleepier, carding his fingers through his curls fondly, and gently lifting his glasses off to make him more comfortable. Was he already settled against Buck by then? Or were they sitting upright until Buck started to lose his own battle with fatigue and rearranged them like this? Indulging both their need for cuddles when they’re feeling low?

It doesn’t matter, but Eddie wishes fiercely that he knew.

They’re both breathing easily enough, like most of the congestion has lifted, though he can tell by the amount of crumpled up tissues that missed the trash can Buck must have brought into the living room that they had a hell of a day with it. Their cheeks are a little flushed with fever still, and Eddie wants to check but doesn’t dare touch them for fear of disturbing them.

Instead, he takes in their pale skin, their dark curls, and their unguarded faces in sleep and marvels for the hundredth time at how improbable it is that they could look so alike and how strangely happy he is about it. By now he’s used to the guilt that accompanies this thought, and as always, spares a thought to Shannon, but then he lets himself linger on it like he doesn’t usually have the luxury of doing.

Usually their similarities strike him at the worst times: when he turns around in line to catch them making faces and laughing at being caught, and Eddie has to pretend to be grumpy and turn back around to play into their game; when they’re ordering ice cream and Eddie asks for strawberry and they both turn to look at him with identical expression of disappointment because fruit isn’t a treat even if it’s fake fruit; when he has to take a call from Carla as they’re walking into the museum and catches up to Buck and Chris just in time to hear the ticket taker say “you and your dad have fun!” because she has eyes and anyone on Earth would have assumed the same. These are moments Eddie has to let lie and move on from quickly. Moments he only gets to revisit when he’s laying in bed at night, trying to conjure up the visuals exactly as they were to reproduce the tightening in his chest he keeps experiencing, but failing every time.

But now, here, he can linger.

No, he can do more than linger.

Moving slowly as if any sudden movement could break this tranquility, Eddie slips his phone out of his pocket and double-taps the power button to bring up the camera.

He takes a single, wide-view shot of the whole couch, and admires it for a moment.

Then he zooms in on their sleeping faces and takes two more.

Three new pictures to add to the overflowing folder of pictures that will never go on Instagram.

He quickly sends Carla the wide-view shot because he feels the need to share what he’s come home to and she’s the only safe option. The only one who won’t read more into it than Eddie’s comfortable addressing.

Though if Eddie’s being truthful, he knows she’s just the only one who’ll keep it to herself until he’s ready to hear it.

Carla sends back three red hearts, and Eddie can’t help but agree.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and makes room to sit on the coffee table.

Buck’s hand is right there, open, palm facing up, waiting.

Eddie reaches for his shoulder instead, though he slips up and instead of jostling him gently like he meant to, his hand curves around his shoulder and his thumb glides back and forth against his shirt until Buck is snuffling and blinking awake.

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling when Buck remains half-asleep, his body as relaxed as it was in sleep.

“Hey,” he croaks, gently clearing his throat and casting a nervous eye to Christopher who makes nothing of the disturbance.

“How are you feeling?”

Buck seems to mentally assess himself. “Fine, just crazy tired. Our little man here was a trooper, but he conked out a couple hours ago. Aw, shi--oot,” he looks at the television, “I was supposed to pause it when he fell asleep. I don’t remember which episode we were on.”

Eddie smiles. “He probably won’t even remember the episodes you did watch. You can start over when you’re both back on your feet.”

“Mm,” Buck hums, his eyelids already growing heavier again. “‘K.”

Eddie watches sleep take over Buck, until those tired lids are pried apart suddenly with mild alarm.

“D’you want m’to put him to bed?” Buck slurs. “Be more comfortable?”

Eddie shakes his head with a fond smile. “He’s just fine where he is.”

Buck’s eyes grow vulnerable in a way he’s been trying to hide lately when he’s in full control of his faculties, and the corner of his lips tugs up into a shy smile.

“Go back to sleep,” Eddie says, his voice pitched low to be soothing.

Buck obeys and within a couple of minutes his face is slack and peaceful, his breathing evened out, but some stray impulse shifts his hand away from his face and off the couch entirely to hang in the space between them.

Can Eddie really be faulted then for taking it in his hands and holding on for just a second — feeling the slight heat from the fever seep into his skin, feeling the curl of mildly calloused fingers against his, feeling the weight of it between his palms and deciding that he likes it, a lot?

He guides Buck’s hand back to its original resting place and doesn’t give in when his fingers want to explore the ungelled curls resting against his forehead.

He lingers, again, just one more time, and lets the knowledge that Carla’s talk will likely be coming sooner rather than later wash over him.

And by the way he only barely makes it to the kitchen before thumbing open his gallery and reviewing the three pictures he took, he figures he may just be ready for it.

#buddie #buddie fics #christopher diaz #buddipher #buddie and chris #my fics

[myelocin]

what comes after fate | kuroo tetsurou

synopsis: they say the number three is reserved for what fate has in store, and you just hope that on the third time, kuroo tetsurou would finally choose you.

characters: kuroo tetsurou, you

genre: hurt/comfort, another promotion 4 self love once again

wc: 3200+

a/n: this baby has so much self projection r we even surprised anymore

-

“I’m always here for you,” is what you used to say instead of “I love you,” because for a while, Tetsurou’s heartfelt “Thank you,” sufficed.

You never bothered to learn her name, but you knew he called her love. And it was fitting, you think. Because the first time around, when you were only nineteen and feeling like all that you’ll ever have in the world will be found in the now—love was what was in front of you.

But in front of him was her.

She with the sweet dimpled smiles, freckled cheeks under the right amount of sunshine, and the waters of the pacific for eyes.

She.

Her.

Love.

So for Kuroo Tetsurou—what he thought was his future was her. His love.

Then for you, what you thought was love was him.

Tetsurou who used to be the boy who snuck into your room from your windows, a bag of donuts in one hand, and his car keys in the other. The love you sought to be part of your future was what was in the moment. Him.

And even if the summer nights you spent with him meant listening to stories of she whose name you still can’t recall—it was fine. Because when you were sixteen, those same nights in bloom where the stars above that twinkled brighter than the city lights looked down on you—you knew there would always be a slice in history when it was just the both of you.

“She’s something else,” you’d listen to him say, and the way Tetsurou’s eyes would squint when he smiled at the sky only had you thinking that it looked like he was looking at the sun instead of the moon.

Love, you come to conclude, wasn’t blind. It was what gave the smallest details the brightest spotlights as it comes into center stage.

For him it was the way love would scrunch her nose at his questions, tuck her hair behind her ear when she was called to answer a question in class, and quite evidently his favorite—the way her voice would hike up half a pitch if she was flustered enough.

And when Tetsurou would turn to face you and ask, “Have you ever been in love?” with his voice as breathless as you always caught yourself to be when he smiles at you, you could only nod your head.

“I guess I have,” would come your reply as you exhale. Your truth being the very thing that has your heart racing one minute before diving recklessly in the next.

“Who?” Tetsurou would ask, his voice always teasing.

He smiles, gold eyes glowing like the bokeh of streetlights faded in the background, and the sight has you holding your breath.

“Just someone,” you’d reply and pray that your message somehow reaches him despite the wordless confession.

“Someone, huh,” he’d repeat your words with an almost dreamlike expression as he turns away and looks up at the stars again. The summer breeze tugs at the sleeve of your blouse and as it leaves you exhale your truth with it.

“What if it’s you?” you say, looking at him, and the wind retreats to the trees as it gives your truth the chance to be known with a stage of silence.

“What do you mean me?” Tetsurou asks quietly.

The wind stays in the trees, the leaves rustling the only thing you can hear with the silence that hangs in the air. You can’t tell if it’s on your side or not, so you turn from the skies and face him instead.

“That’s just my truth,” you tell him, smiling softly.

He smiles at you, eyes patient and the hand that found yours warm.

“Your truth, huh?” he repeats next to you again, and your heart flutters at the silver lining you found in his eyes. And that same silver lining was what ignited the flames of hope in you that lasted far longer than you would have liked.

After you spoke your truth, what you saw in the smile he offered you was the first step, and because you loved him, you took it upon yourself to walk three steps forward instead of only one.

Love really wasn’t blind, you realize again. In your case, it was just blinding.

-

You were still blinded after that night, and you don’t come to realize it as soon as you would have preferred to.

The first time Tetsurou loves, seven months later he lets go and returns to you with a tremble in his lips and a yearning for the comfort that left his heart.

“You just love too much,” you wanted to say, but before the words could pass your lips, you were rendered speechless as the epiphany strikes you that you weren’t far off from where he was.

Too much, being the fact that you still stayed despite the morning after you laid your truth bare, he came to you with love holding his hand and a newfound radiance laced with his smile. But it worked out, you suppose, because seven months later Tetsurou stands in front of you again with his car keys in one hand and a bag of donuts in the other.

“Sappy nights and star gazing again?” are the words he says coupled with the same pair of golden eyes are what took you to release the tension in your shoulders and slip back in the cycle.

The cycle, being the fact that you’re lying on your backs in the very field you set your truth free, with his eyes and the background bokeh lights making you want to take another dive again. Beside you, Tetsurou is silent, but the look on his face is making you wonder if he’s struggling to explain the infinite all over again.

“I should have just loved you,” is what he says to break the silence, and just like that, your heart’s leaping to dive again.

“You still can, you know,” you answer, because you mean it. The truth of the matter was you always were still there despite his departure. Your heart left at the gate for him to claim when—if—he returned, while your body waited somewhere nearby to watch for his arrival.

“I’ve always been and I always will be here for you, Tetsu,” you finish, smiling with the honesty wrapped with your words.

“Are you really giving your heart that easily?” Tetsurou asks, and his voice you hear more than a sliver of vulnerability, so you take that as a cue to wade in waters even deeper by yourself. The golds of his eyes looked like the embers of a fire, but despite the absence of flame you still could feel the resonance of warmth.

You want to keep the warmth, so you fan the flames.

“That’s just my truth, Tetsu,” you tell him with nothing but raw vulnerability.

The wind ceases to rustle in the trees, because in this night, you feel it dancing on your shoulders: on the strands of your hair that you fastened with a clip behind your hair, and at Tetsurou’s lashes as he stares and blinks at you slowly.

“You said the same thing back then,” he laughs in a whisper, and when he leans in—you stay as still as the wind that you barely even realize has stopped moving.

“Because I meant it,” you try to say, but his lips are already on yours before the thoughts in your brain could even get a chance to try to connect.

Every word of it, you think to yourself as you look at Tetsurou, with his eyes closed and face up, bathing in moonlight.

-

He doesn’t call you love, like he did with her, but he calls you friend.

“I guess we just got carried away,” he tells you a few weeks later, and for the second time, you can only nod your head, mouth silent, but thoughts raging at his words.

You think about that night, of his sadness, then at how lonely his lips felt pressed against yours. Perhaps “carried away,” really was a good way to explain things, because in the second time you saw the silver lining for reciprocation in his eyes again, instead of taking one step and meeting him in the middle—you took it upon yourself to leap to three and meet him at his doorstep instead.

Only he hadn’t bothered to cross his own threshold as you already made it way past the boundary of yours.

But it should have been fine, because love was patient, right?

So you offer him a smile, knocking your shoulder against his again and exhaling silently as you swirl the melting cubes of ice around your glass again.

The world outside is storming, so the café the two of you found served as a nice refuge to let the storm pass.

The condensation drips on the side, and as you look at the rain still pouring outside, in that moment you feel a little trapped.

“You figured yourself out?” you ask him, nudging at his shoulder and setting your gaze down to look at your drink.

For a few moments, Tetsurou doesn’t answer you, instead opting to just keep his attention focused on the raindrops beating against the window the two of you are sat behind.

“How do we even know if we figured ourselves out?” he eventually chuckles, his shoulders dropping at the change of atmosphere.

You grin, not exactly sure how to formulate the answer to his question with only words, but you let out a sigh and attempt to do so anyway.

“We don’t,” you tell him truthfully. “I guess there are just moments where we feel so sure of something that it feels like we have shit figured out, but that could also change in the next moment. I guess what I’m meaning to ask is if anything has clicked for you at the moment?”

“I guess there has,” he tells you, setting his gaze down for a brief second. That’s when you notice the slight tug at the corner of his lips, so you drop your straw back down the glass and give him a pointed look.

“Care to share?” you say with a laugh.

“I don’t wanna break your heart,” is Tetsurou’s truth, because when he turns to face you for the first time that night—you can see hesitation evident in his eyes.

“Because I love you?” you ask, not really seeking for an answer, but you get one anyway when Tetsurou hangs his head and reshifts his gaze to something in the corner of the table.

“I already told you two truths before, didn’t I?” you question him once more, and beside you, Tetsurou stays silent instead of just nodding his head.

“I guess I owe you another truth then,” you start, pushing your ice filled glass to the side and folding your arms in front of you as you lean forward on the table.

Facing forward, you look at the force of the rain, then listen for the sound of the wind that hides behind no trees this time because tonight it’s in front of you raging as if to say it’s really time for you to spill your truth—in its entire vulnerability.

So take it as a cue, and do just that.

“You’ve already broken my heart twice, Tetsu. I think I still have it in me to take one more,” you declare in a voice that isn’t a whisper, and just how it was in the past, your heart still managed to leap with your words.

“I can take it,” you repeat, locking eyes with him through the reflection of the darkened window in front of you. Because of the distortion, you can’t read the expression in his eyes. Tetsurou was someone who always happened to be just the right kind of transparent for you, because for as long as you’ve known him—his emotions were as easy to read as the intention he expressed them with.

First, he sighs: the kind that’s deep and slowly released like he’s an old man looking over his will. Then, he turns his head again to look at you, and you could already see the apology swimming in the golden eyes you’ve come to adore before he could open his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” it says, and when you focus on the sounds of the rain instead of his voice that comes, the only thing you can read from his lips was because for him love, had always been her.

Tetsurou’s love, whose name you still can’t recall to this day.

Love, with her ocean eyes and poetry for words, and you can’t hate her because you don’t even know her.

“Friends?” he asks you, and you only shoot a smile his way, before looking forward at the windows again.

If something was fate, you recall, it happens on the third time. As you wait for the rain to slow, you allowed yourself to fall in step with the silence so you could gather your thoughts.

A phone rings—Tetsurou’s, you recognize, and when he picks it up, there is sunshine in the tone of his voice.

Love, he greets. So, you think about love.

But the love where fate was involved. Three, you think. It was supposed to be on the third.

The first time you meet Tetsurou through the rose colored lenses you wore yourself, the truth you gave him—which he listened to—counted as the first. You scoff inwardly when you think about the outcome, because despite the silver lining he gave you, for him, love was somebody who wasn’t you.

The second, was in that night he kissed you. A kiss that felt like its beginnings came straight from between the pages of a story book. Where prince charming heard your truth once more and decided that this time, love was you, and that this was right.

You realize that you forgot to count the fact that with a fresh wound also came a different sort of vulnerability. The kind where it sought healing more than reason.

And that night, perhaps because you laid yourself bare too—your healing meant his comfort instead of the salvation he sought after.

So the two times he loves, let goes, and cries all with a love that still isn’t you.

Where he loved her once, let go and realized that he loved her still, and for the third time came back to her but this time stayed. The first, second, and third for you meant a rebounded sort of love and misunderstood connections, while the three for him meant the love fate had long promised.

Because in the third, you realize as you listen to him speak to love over the phone—the third, or fate, is where he stays. He talks about her like you would him, and when the rain drops harder with the howling wind, you awaken to the truth that it hurts.

So what comes after the third? you ask the storm outside. You’re also the third storm of the season, so what now?

The wind doesn’t slow, but it rattles at the glass on the window even harder, so you try to find your answer in that. The wind was always on your side, you like to think.

After the third, you begin to think, comes something else. It isn’t the first where you begin again, or the second where you think about second chances and rewriting failed endings. In contrary, it isn’t the third where things finally click together either—like all the movies suggest.

The answer is simple; because what comes after the third is simply the fourth.

The fourth, being the careful steps taken to walk away. Where the heaviness in your chest means that you’re finally facing the blunt of the storm outside the eye of the hurricane. It’s leaving that false safety net that moreso trapped you for a lot longer that you realized, instead of protect you.

It’s grabbing your bag and thanking your lucky stars for bringing an umbrella with you, because you only tap him on the shoulder once and wave goodbye when you’re already halfway out the door. It’s walking through the puddles in your favorite pair of heels and almost losing your balance, if it wasn’t for the unusual gust of wind that kept you upright at the very last second. It’s looking at him when you finally make it across the street, sheltered under an awning, as he only looks down at his drink and smiles the kind of smile that you used to smile for him. It’s crying in vulnerability and thanking the rain along with the rose colored lenses Tetsurou wore because with that he couldn’t see the fact that your heart still hurts despite you saying that you could “take his truth.”

The fourth is saying “fuck you,” and “I’m done,” for as many times as you wish until your lungs give out and your throat becomes more hoarse than relieved. Because at the end of the day, letting yourself cry is a different sort of relief when you’re finally allowing yourself to realize that despite the steps you’ve taken for healing—shit just fucking sucks.

But what comes after fate, most importantly—is yourself.

It’s shaking off the raindrops, drying your hair, and getting in that taxi, the image of golden eyes against bokeh lights the last thing on your mind. Where you don’t shut off your phone, but mute his contact despite the what ifs calling you back at every stoplight.

You’re only reminded of your position in the present when the lights turn green, and just like that, you just go.

Yourself, being the person you begin to prioritize, because when Tetsurou texts you again, a photo of him with his car keys and a familiar box of donuts in hand, your only reply is a quick “I’m busy tonight,” and nothing more.

What comes after fate is yourself because after facing the reality of the storm that’s been raging, and making peace with the message the wind has been trying to deliver, you finally see the waiting sun peaking behind the exhausted rainclouds.

Vanilla skies, you smile. They’re the first thing that greets you, and your breath is stolen just like that.

Tetsurou’s name flashes on your screen again, but you don’t see it. What comes after fate is standing under the swirls of vanilla in the sky while the stars of your yesterday’s midnight sky calls you for company yet again, and you, not bothering to answer.

You think of golden eyes, the bokeh city lights, and the plethora of stars dancing around the moon. Your heart aches, but it’s the kind where it dulls as quick as it comes, so you breathe in and bask in the smell of morning dewdrops after the heavy rainfall.

A missed call, and a text that reads “I miss you” comes.

You leave it unread.

Because truth be told, you always preferred the vanilla skies over the moonlit nights anyway.

 -

a/n: i h8 men that is all tq

#haikyuu #haikyuucreations #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq!! #haikyuu!! #kuroo tetsurou #nekoma #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou imagines #kuroo tetsurou scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsurou angst

[birdsandspades]

I Was Never Good at Waiting (Sugawara X Reader) Chapter 10

- It was your last year in highschool, everything had been going smoothly until you got assigned the new teacher. Sugawara Koushi was handsome, maybe too handsome for his own good. Be he wasn't flirting with you right, teachers shouldn't do that....I guess we will see where this year goes.

Word Count - 3,753

----

It was wrong and he knew it. 

He was your teacher, that should be all he was to you. 

That day he saw you sitting in his classroom, ready to learn as a student, his student. 

That's the day he should have put his silly feelings behind him. 

But you made it so hard for him. He could see it, the soft smiles you gave him, the lasting glances. He was no stranger to the feeling. He had his fair share of crushes in school. But he knew he was infatuated with you. For him it wasn’t just a temporary thing, he loved you. 

But your feelings, they were only a crush.

You were young, new to the idea. He had shown you kindness, sweet words, lasting stares. He had fed into that crush, led you on with false hope. 

If things were only different. You were out of school, had met each other elsewhere. He could have asked you to dinner, held your hand in the park, maybe even stayed the night with you. But that just wasn’t the case.

You had come to him in a vulnerable state last night, and he took advantage of that.

He wanted to apologize, explain to you why something like this couldn’t work out. He should have done it last night, but he panicked. A momentary lapse of judgment. He owed it to you to do it today. 

So here he sat, leg bouncing under his desk as he waited for the first bell to ring. His students were slowly filling in for the day, chatting amongst each other as they took their seats. 

Most of them already knew about the fight last night, it had been the mornings gossip as he came in. 

Sugawara had called it in once you left, demanding that the principal come in to review the courtyard tapes. He had pulled Hina and her four friends into the principal's office when he saw them come down the hallways for class. They were expelled immediately, that was the schools guidelines. This was a private academy, and everyone had to sign a no conflict agreement upon enrollment. They had come clean in the office, owned up to everything they had done to you. 

‘’Six pairs of slippers...where did they even find the room to keep these…’’ Sugawara watched as they emptied out their lockers. It did fill him with a little bit of joy seeing their empty desks. If it made your day easier, that was enough for him. 

The final bell rang and the last of the students walked into the classroom. His eyes swept each group as they walked through the doors.

He waited for you, the familiar hair color, the sound of your voice, the jingle of your bag. But nothing like that trailed behind Hiroto and Yua as they walked into the room.

“Maybe she’s just late, but i’m sure she'll come in before long.” He started the lesson without you, talking about the morning announcements and the days agenda. Before long class was over and you were nowhere to be seen. It was excusable, last night was rough for you. He would just apologize to you tomorrow. But he didn’t see you.

He has asked the office why you stopped coming to class when he dropped off your work at the front office everyday before he left. 

“Her father calls her in sick every day, and the homework is missing when I come in. I’m not sure who picks it up, but she must be really ill if she's still out.” The secretary smiled as she placed the new worksheets in the basket. 

He hadn’t seen anyone come pick up your work, and he was checking, obsessively. 

He had also questioned your friends, asking if they knew why you had been gone for so long and if you were doing ok with the work. But they just gave him the same answer. 

“She’s been really sick, but I think her cousin is checking in on her. He’s been coming in to pick up her homework before school starts, he's probably helping her too.” Hiroto smiled ,Yua nodding. 

Maybe you really were just sick. 

----

Keys jingled as your door unlocked, Iwaizumi pushed the door open,  stepping inside. 

The house was a mess. Daily chores had gone undone, the result of your week in isolation. The furniture had been moved to the corners of the living room, replaced by a makeshift bed. Layers upon layers of blankets covered the hardwood floor, surrounded by a sea of pillows big and small. He looked around the dark room, blinds pulled shut, as they had been for days. A horror movie flashed across the t.v screen, the same one that had been playing yesterday. 

“How long have you two been up?” He frowned at you and Oikawa, tucked under the sheets. Your eyes glued to the screen, void and dark. That was enough of an answer for him. 

----

It was late when you got home that night from the school. You had just needed someone to talk to, someone to tell you it was going to be alright. When Oikawa picked up the phone he sounded tired, having been in bed for hours. You sat on the line silent for a moment, unable to choke out the words you wanted to say. 

“Do you need me to come over?”, was all he said. 

Your “yes” was quiet, barely a whisper.

But that was all he needed. He was in Tokyo visiting friends, a good four hours away. But sure enough, around 3 a.m you found a frazzled Oikawa, dressed only in his pajamas at your front door.

He was heartbroken when he saw you, standing in the doorway, eyes glassy and tired. He held you there, whispering loving words into your hair as you cried. He was happy you called him, glad you had chosen to suffer with him. He had watched you do it some many times alone, wishing he could be the solace you needed. He loved you, in more ways than one. But now wasn’t the right time, right now his only job was to take care of you. 

He walked you up the stairs to your room hand in hand. Sitting you down on the bed while he raided your closet. He found you something clean and comfortable to wear as opposed to your soiled school uniform. He would take care of those later.

You got dressed while he searched your bathroom for a medical kit. The echos of closing cabinets rings down the dark hallway. He kept the lights off as per your request, your head throbbing.

He didn’t take long to clean you up, making sure to be gentle with the then forming bruises. You were minutes away from sleep when he finished, exhausted from the day you had. He was packing up the supplies when you reached for his hand, cold fingers pulling at his sleeve.

“Tooru, will you stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone.” You opened up the covers, moving over to clear him a space in your bed. 

He sighed and shook his head, he couldn’t say no to you. 

It was cramped with the two of you together, far smaller then planned. But you fell asleep in no time. He stayed awake awhile longer, cherishing the feeling of holding you once again.

When you woke up he was already down stairs with Iwaizumi. He had called him that morning panicking. Oikawa was never good with talking to you at times like these, scared to say something he would regret. That was Iwaizumi’s job. 

He was the rational, level headed one. He had been your reasoning in life, but Tooru had always been your structure. The one thing you could hold onto when you felt like the world was caving in around you. 

You didn’t open up until the next day, sitting next to Oikawa on the couch. It was sudden, but you could just feel it needing to come out. You told him everything, all the feelings you had for Sugawara, how confusing he had been, what had happened. 

He stayed quiet, squeezing your hand reassuringly when you struggled with the right words. It felt good to get it all out finally. Sure Yoshiki knew about your feelings, but not the details. Those had seemed intimate, something to keep to yourself. 

Oikawa wasn't mad, he never made you feel bad for your actions, only nodding along as you explained yourself. “Well, you need to decide if what you told me is worthwhile to tell him."

Who was this wise and calm man? Definitely not the same one who had forgotten to put the water in his ramen before microwaving it last night. 

----

“I have your homework for today.” Iwaizumi sat down next to you and laid the packet in your lap.

It had been a week now since you went to school, opting to do your work at home while Iwaizumi called you out everyday as your father. 

“But you’ll have to turn it in yourself tomorrow.” His voice was soft but stern, his usual tone with you.

Oikawa turned his head towards you at the mention of class, glued on your reaction.

You were silent, looking down at the work in your hands. Sugawara had written small notes along the margins for the course work, page numbers and examples to help you along the way. You ran your fingers over his penmanship, taking in the curves and lines unique to him. 

“Kiddo I can’t keep calling you out. I know you said you didn’t want to talk to me about what happened after the fight. But staying here isn’t going to fix anything.” Iwaizumi's finger lifted to your cheek, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, he was right. “Ok, I'll go back.” 

Iwaizumi stood up, happy to see your shift in mood. “Now let's clean up all of this, it's a disaster in here.”

"Yep, you guys get this place cleaned up!” Oikawa smiled as he made way for the front door. 

Iwaizumi grabbed him by the collar, pulling him towards the kitchen. “You can help us clean Tooru-chan. If you have time to mess up F/N’s house, you can at least clean some of it too.”

You laughed as the arguing continued from the kitchen. Oikawa was definitely not winning by the sounds of it.

You walked into class the next morning, excited to see your friends. You hadn’t really talked much while you were gone, unsure of what to say about the whole situation. 

As per usual, they were at their desks when you walked into the room, arguing over some minute detail in a t.v show from the night before.

“Are you idiots still arguing about that?" Laughing, you took your seat.

"You're alive!” Yua screamed as she jumped on you.

Hiroto walked over, ruffling your hair with a laugh. “I’m glad you're feeling better, I don’t think I could take another class period alone with her."

Yua pouted at his remark, you only laughed.

The morning bell rang as the substitute walked in. “Good morning, Sugawara Sensei is stuck in a meeting this morning so just work on your homework for this period. But he will be back for your science class late.” 

“Figures, the first day I'm back and he's not even in class.” 

Once the morning announcements were over the substitute left the classroom. 

“So your face is looking better. ” Yua smiled as she looked over your fading bruises and cuts. 

“Yeah, I think they should all be gone by next week.” You laughed, feeling over your blackened eye. 

“I’m glad they kicked out Hina and her friends. It’s been so quiet since she left, Sugawara-sensei looks happy too. I’m sure it's nice not having to hide from a bunch of crazy teenage girls.” Hiroto chuckled. 

Yua rolled her eyes. “Well that's what they get. If I was there I would have beat her ass."

Now it was your turn to laugh as Yua punched Hiroto playfully. “Yeah, I'm sure you would have been so much help.", you teased.

Classes for the day went on as it normally would have. You handed in the assigned work as the periods went by, thanking you teachers for their concerns. Most of them had been really worried with your absence, glad to see you were finally well again.

The lunch bell rang, everyone packing up their bags to leave for the cafeteria. 

“Hey, I'm going to hand in my homework to Sugawara-sensei. You guys can go on ahead of me. I’ll meet you in the lunchroom once i'm done!” Waving goodbye, you and your friends parted ways for the hour.

When you got to the classroom it was empty, the lights off and blinds closed.

The school had made a new rule in your absence. After they expelled Hina and her friends, they found out they had been hiding in the classroom waiting for Sugawara. Many of them underclassmen that were not allowed to be on the floor to begin with. The principle put a stop to it, issuing a no lunch in classrooms order. 

You peeked your head into his office. “I wonder if he’s even done with his meeting?” You took a seat on the sofa, watching the students pass by out the window as you waited. 

The click of the door startled you, a tired Sugawara walked inside of the office setting down a stack of folders. 

You turned around, smiling at him. “Hi Sensei. How was your meeting?” 

He wasn’t expecting you back today, none the less sitting in his office when he came back from his meeting. “L/N-san, you're feeling better I take it?” He smiled back at you, taking a seat at his desk. “Did you have any questions on your work?” 

“Not really on the work,” You set down the completed worksheets on the desk. “but I was wondering if we could talk?”

“She’s gone a whole week, and she came in here right off the bat asking to talk?” He was dumbfounded by you. He had expected an adjustment period, a window of time where you ignored him. He expected that he would have to corner you one day before practice, force you to give him the time to explain. But here you were, ready to talk the second you saw each other. “What do you want to talk about?” He laughed nervously, trying to play it off as a simple conversation. 

“Well, I wanted to talk about what happened the last time we saw each other. I wanted to talk about the kis…”

”Oh yeah that!” His voice was a little louder than intended as he cut you off. He wanted to be the rational one, he had practiced a very rational speech for this very moment. But all the sudden the words just didn’t seem to fit what he wanted to say to you. 

He stared at you for a moment, thinking of what to do. 

“Sensei, do you want me to go first...or do you want to?” Tilting your head, you watched as he focused back in on the conversation.

“I’m sorry...I had practiced what I was going to say and I can’t remember any of it.” He chuckled to himself, hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Just give me the jist of it.” You nodded, giving him the floor to speak. 

Taking a deep breath he nodded back to you. “F/N, I know you're probably confused. I’ve been saying and...doing some things I shouldn’t have been doing with you.” 

He looked up at you and frowned, “But we can’t be doing this. It’s wrong of me as your teacher to have romantic feelings for you. You're a beautiful, bright woman and I know you’ll do amazing things once you graduate. But not if I continue doing this to you…” 

He focused his gaze out the window behind you, cheeks growing hot. “That day you were hurt. You came to me for help and I took advantage of the situation. You may think you have real feelings for me F/N, but it's just a crush. You’ll get over it…” 

You gritted your teeth at his statement, keeping quiet long enough for him to finish. 

“I’m really sorry F/N, things were different when I first met you at the coffee shop. I should have stopped this the day I came into class, but I didn’t and I'm sure I hurt you because of that.” Sugawara stood up from his chair, moving to sit beside you.

“Coffee shop? Sensei I don’t remember meeting you this summer…” You were confused now, you would have remembered Sugawara coming into the small shop, you remembered all of your customers.

“It would make sense that you wouldn’t remember me, I did only talk to you when I was ordering...and that time I asked you for a napkin.” Sugawara gave you a sad laugh, of course you never noticed him. Why would you when he never made any efforts to talk to you until now. 

“But whatever I felt then doesn’t matter now. You're my student L/N-san, that's what we need to leave it at.” He gave you a stern look, like a mother scolding her child.

“Sensei, it feels like you're trying to tell me how I feel about you…” You returned his look as you stood up. “You may have more experience in this kind of stuff, I mean I've only had one boyfriend and that was in elementary school. But this doesn’t feel like that to me. Sensei I lov…” 

“F/N, I know it may feel like you have feelings for me, but it's just temporary. We get along just fine, I'm sure this feeling is new to you with a guy. Teenage boys are strange and the boys you interact with everyday make you uncomfortable.” He cut you off again, this was starting to sound like a puberty talk. 

“Sugawara, listen to me. I lov…”

"One day you’ll realise how funny this all is. It’s a weird time for everyone your age, and relationships are going to be heavy on your mind. But don’t rush into it with the first guy you have an interest for. This will pass, I promise, and…”

You were about to lose your mind. You should have just gone first. “Koushi, I love you!” You screamed over his rambling. 

He gave you a stunned look, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it immediately when the words didn’t come. 

You finally had your chance to talk now that he was staring at you like a fish out of water. 

“You are acting like I'm a child Koushi. I’m 18, and I know that doesn’t account for a lot. But I’m pretty sure I'm old enough to decide how I feel without someone putting words in my mouth. I love you Koushi, I've loved you for awhile. Now I understand if you don’t want to pursue this because of your job. But god dammit, don’t act like I didn’t want this as much as you. I wanted that kiss Koushi, just as much as you did. So can you just for a moment talk to me like an adult about what you really want to do about this?”

He watched you pace back and forth as you spoke, now he felt like the child. 

“Can you please say something?” You were pleading with him now, begging for anything.

“What do I say? What do I fucking say?” He stared at you, eyes wide.

“Ok, I get it. I’ll just go.” You were defeated, the conversation had been pointless. Turning to leave you grabbed the door knob, pulling it open. 

His hand shot up, slamming the door closed in front of you. 

You turned into his chest, taking a step back at the close proximity. "Kou…"

“I need you to say it. One more time.” He leaned down, eye level with you now. 

Your back was pressed flush against the door. “Sensei, what are you doing?” You panicked now, eyes on your shoes as he inched closer.

“Please say it, just one more time.” He tilted your chin up, voice soft as he looked over you with dark eyes. 

“I..I love you.” 

Those words were enough for him. He closed the gap between you two, pressing his lips roughly against yours. He moved his hand off the door and behind your head, deepening the kiss as he pulled you closer. 

You slid your hands up his chest, pushing slightly to distance your lips. “Koushi...wait”, you mumbled between kisses. 

He pulled away, picking you up and setting you on his desk. “Shh, stop talking.” He chuckled as your lips met again. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. 

He smiled into the kiss, placing his arms on the desk to stabilize himself. His lips were soft, your mind fuzzy as he moved along your own. His hand slid behind you, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. 

Gasping in surprise he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. 

The previous coffee taste had been switched out for cherry something. You couldn’t quite figure it out, what was that taste. It was on the tip of your tongue and so was he. 

The class bell rang, the both of you separating.

You were breathless, cheeks hot as he stared at you. 

“I love you too. Probably more than I should, but I love you too." He pecked your lips again, bringing a smile to your face. 

You got off the desk, patting down you messy hair.

He on the other hand looked perfect, completely untouched as he watched you straighten your skirt.

“Koushi does this mean…” 

He cut you off by turning you around and pushing you out the door. “We can talk about the logistics of it after school.” He planted a kiss on your cheek before closing the door behind you. 

You placed a hand on your face as the students started walking into the classroom. 

“Hey F/N-chan...why is your face so red?” Yua looked at you weird as she scanned over your figure. 

“Physical activities.” You laughed as you walked over to your desk. I mean, you weren't lying.

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Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

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#haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu #haikyuu sugawara #sugawara x you #hq sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara scenario #sugawara kōshi #sugawara koushi #sugawara koshi #sugawara koshi imagine #sugawara fluff #sugawara imagine #teacher sugawara #student x teacher #teacher sugawara koshi #teacher sugawara koushi #guest starring #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa torū #oikawa tooru #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi #fanfiction #fanfic #ongoing #they finally did it

[ash-clarington]

WHO:  Ash & Lisette ( @lisetterosegilbert​ ) WHEN: At the ball, in a coat closet WHAT: Sharing the same hiding spot away from everyone.  WARNINGS: They’re just sad. 

The very back of the coat room. Ash wasn't proud of it but, she had at least made it there. Most of the night had been spent as moments like this, hiding away in a quiet nook where no one could find her. Of course she also had a date to satisfy. Why the submissive had ever agreed to attend a claim party in the first place was beyond even herself. The truth was, Dani had simply asked. And Ash liked Dani. So when she had herself together enough, she'd get herself and her date a drink and did as much socializing with the people she knew as she could. Which wasn't much. Landing her there, deep out of the way and finding herself holding her breath when suddenly the quiet safety of the space she found was interrupted by an intruder.

Lisette didn't want to feel the way she was feeling.  It was a happy day, one of the happiest of her life, to see her surrogate parents celebrate their claim.  And she was there with a woman who had brought new light into her life, a woman who she hoped to have a party just like this - well, okay, slightly less fancy than this - one day.  But the feeling was there all the same.  That itchy, burning feeling where her collar had been, and the deep shame that her claim had been such a failure.  So at some point, with Emerson otherwise occupied Lisette had snuck away for a moment, deciding on the most quiet place she'd seen...only to find there was already someone there. In a few heartbeats, Lisette had sized her up.  Something haunted in her eyes, in her posture, was all she needed to know.  "You too, huh?" she offered softly.  "Do you mind sharing the dark?"

Ash stared back at Lisette for a moment, allowing her lungs to fill and heart to calm in the realization that there was no threat of having to vacate her hiding place. She took a hit off her Juul and then slid over so that the woman could join her in the small space she'd made by pushing the few coats there out of the way. Silently agreeing to the company. Company wasn't what she wanted but it was something about Lisette's words, or maybe it was her tone. Regardless it was LJ's sister and Ash hadn't built up anymore energy yet to do anything else beside that. She took another drag and watched the vapor puff out in front of her face in the dull light. "What's the matter? Too much modest fun out there?"

Lisette waited calmly for permission, not wanting to take anyone's personal space and willing to leave if she had to.  Fortunately permission did come in the end, and she took a seat in the small space with a relieved sigh.  The vape didn't bother her, and the question made her chuckle softly.  "Too many memories," she explained quietly.  She didn't hide her past, and she had a feeling that her companion in the coat room would understand that.  "Makes me reach for my collar."  Which, even in the dark, it was obvious that she didn't have.  "How about you?  Did someone flash an ankle and everyone had to be scandalized and leave?"

The submissive was already on edge, everything about the party and general discussions where pertaining to claims so the the mention of a collar didn't cause her to have to hold back a near wince. She simply side eyed Lisette, sizing her question up. "Exactly that." She answered, her lips pressing together tightly. Ash didn't want to let it slip, not when she was already feeling vulnerable. And not to someone she had only met once before. It didn't however stop her from prying, curiosity and a little bit of masochism driving her forward. "How'd it end?" She asked, knowing the other submissive would know exactly what she meant without any other lead up than Lisette's mention of the absent collar.

There would be no pressing for details.  She knew what it was like, having a part of your past cut out, and if Ash didn't want to offer information she wouldn't ask for it.  "That's what I figured," she nodded.  "Better to stay in here until it blows over."  Her question didn't phase Lisette, not after opening herself up for it.  "I broke it."  Three words that contained volumes.  "And then I spent a year getting put back together."  There were a million more things she could say, but it would depend greatly on what Ash wanted to hear.  If she wanted to hear anything more than the simplest explanation, that was.

Lisette's words played through a few times in Ash's head before she actually let herself hear them. It sounded to familiar. It made her stomach hurt worst than the happy couple at the party. Jealousy and dread mixed as one was much easier to handle than whatever it was that Lisette was presenting her with. Ash knew exactly what Lisette meant and she could suck on her vape all she wanted, what she really needed was a cigarette. "It takes longer than that doesn't it..." She ventured aloud many beats later than typical conversation. "Or do we never get to be back together?" It made her think of her ex Mistress, as much as she'd been trying not to through the night. It was exactly the type of party she would love. Ash knew she was most likely off doing fine somewhere, someone else in her grips. The thought made her pulse quicken.

Lisette nodded.  "Yeah, it does.  I'm still trying to figure out how long.  But I have to believe that we do, eventually.  Maybe with the pieces in a different order, or a new shape, but I have a hard time thinking that we can't ever get put back together."  Fauna, and now Emerson, had gone a long way toward changing her mind in that regard.  "But I think it takes a lot longer than anyone would want to say."  She went to rest her head against the wall before remembering her new hairdo and stopping herself short.

Ash crossed her arms around herself and tucked her vape away tightly in her palm. Her jaw tightened against the question rising in her, the real question. The one that always sat with her. Above whether or not anyone else, or any appropriate Dominant felt they could ever be good enough again. What Ash really never let herself ask was, "And if we're never as good as before..." She sat up a little straighter to fight back the lump in her throat. This party was supposed to be celebratory but it brought up too much. "Because I might be banking on a little too broken and a little too... stupid for the foreseeable future." Ash looked over at Lisette, her mood and the amount of alcohol she'd used to suppress it making her unable to stop the sudden flow of words. "Even after all the time its taken to undo damage, I still miss her." She confessed, too numb to be bothered by the truth of it.

Ash's reactions made Lisette wonder if she was saying too much, making things worse instead of better, but she didn't know any way to be except honest.  They'd clearly shared at least part of the same experiences, and it seemed wrong to lie in answer to questions.  It was hard to decide what to say to the use of the words broken and stupid, because she didn't believe that Ash was either.  At least not from their limited interaction.  "I like to think of it like...a bone.  You break a bone, it's stronger when it heals."  She held her hands up, showing off her crooked thumbs.  "Like those."  The soft confession broke her heart, and Lisette worried at her lip.  "I can understand that.  I don't miss Him, because he was an abusive asshole, but I miss...that certainty of belonging."

There was some certainty even through the submissive's heavy buzz that her expression must have portrayed the her unimpressed reaction to the woman's thumbs. The analogy was cheesy at best but Ash was unsure if it was an attempt at comfort or humor. It was the insight the other submissive said last that caught her true attention. Ash nodded in understanding. "The steadiness of expectation." She added. Loneliness had become much more palpable following a claim, the constantness of being apart of something. The acts carried out and needs for both involved being met. For a long time before it went bad Ash remembered what that was like and it took a long time to stop yearning as deeply to have it again.

"Exactly," Lisette nodded.  She couldn't help but be impressed by the way Ash had put into words a concept that she probably never could have.  "Knowing every day what's going to be expected of you, when to have breakfast ready and when to..." she nearly finished the sentence with bend over, which probably wasn't something they needed to discuss.  "When to be waiting at the door on your knees," she went with instead.  "I still have a hard time with that - with not knowing where I should be every minute."December 16, 2020

"Yeah." Ash agreed distractedly. Her eyes were boring into the ugly hotel style carpet on the floor but her thoughts were miles away, flashing over exactly what Lisette was describing. It was the alcohol, or maybe the overwhelming shared truth of it but the submissive felt herself soften and a wall she kept in place all the time dropped away. Ash closed her eyes against the wetness gathering in them and leaned her head back against the wall. She swallowed hard to be sure her voice wouldn't break when she spoke. "And how we crave the things that broke us." Ash's stomach twisted while her thoughts soured over the conflict. She didn't know how she was supposed to be able to ever give someone that sort of power over her again but at the same time, beyond the prevalent social expectation, it was all she really wanted.

Lisette could see the way her words were affecting her companion, and she hated how that felt.  But it seemed like a conversation that both of them needed to have, even if neither wanted it.  So she listened, and she gathered her thoughts to reply.  “That,” her voice shook, “is the thing people don’t understand most of all.  What that craving is like.  I was broken to an unfathomable degree, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t wake up from dreams with my body trying to follow orders no one gave me.  And it doesn’t mean that I don’t like that feeling.”

Ash chanced a glance over at Lisette, it was genuine and the energy between them felt a little too raw. She turned away to wipe aggressively at her cheek just as the other submissive nailed an exact though Ash had every day. Having to wake up and unlearn habits trained into her. Everyday coming to consciousness and remembering there wasn't a thing she needed to do, a place she needed to be, or anyone to attend to. Not even the dog anymore. Aimless. And recently, reckless. "Scenes can only do so much." Of course it helped satisfy urgent needs but the things they were talking about required something deeper. It was only because Ash'd had it that she missed it so fully. She lifted her nearly empty glass from the bench beside her and held it up. "To the happy couple."

When their eyes met Lisette had to struggle not to look down, look away.  One of the many things she did instinctively, because they had been driven into her with the force of a hammer on a nail.  But it was gratifying to keep their gazes locked, because she could see herself in Ash's eyes and assumed that the inverse was true as well.  "Exactly.  Because scenes, at their heart, are play.  It's not like being collared and broken, it doesn't have that urgency to it."  Lisette found her own glass, drained to a swallow, and held it up in return.  "May they be happier than we were."

Their glasses clinked, Ash threw back her last sip and then abruptly stood. "Doubtful." She shot back pessimistically. She was in a mood now, there was no turning back but at least that drove her to quit hiding. The submissive was ready to go. Turning back before she got to the door, Ash turned back toward Lisette, addressing her without actually looking at her. "I'm... around." She offered, knowing the other submissive would understand. "When there isn't anyone else to get it." It wasn't often Ash offered any sort of friendship, and maybe this wasn't that really but, she didn't mind Lisette. The woman already knew what she was thinking before they even broached the subject, and that was valuable to Ash. She gave a nod, then disappeared.

Lisette nodded, knowing exactly what Ash was saying without having to ask for clarification.  "Me too," she managed in reply.  "Pretty much anytime."  It meant a lot to her that she'd made a connection with someone who could grasp what she meant about things that most people would never experience.  Once she left the confines of the room, Lisette took a deep breath and exhaled in a well-practiced way as she searched for calm.  It was time to smile, and time to get back out.  She could do it.

#lisette gilbert #f2f: lisette gilbert #; para #(( AT THE BALL ))

[theateared]

That’s New. ❜

Summary:  Recalling reincarnation in vivid detail derails a man’s urge to sleep.

    Whatever he says today, you don’t care.

    It was a mantra that Grace had been repeating over and over for the better half of four centuries now.  Despite this dedication, every time Edgar opened his mouth, she felt a frustrating amount of investment in what he was saying - and more often than not, it was because he was pissing her off.

    That was precisely why she was surprised when she entered the tavern and was met with silence.

    “... that’s new,”   she muttered, straightening out her skirt as she glanced around the familiar space.  It was strange to her, how their creed had steadily come to co-exist with huros, but she wasn’t complaining.  If anything, it was nice to see the civilised side of life.  The No-Man’s would always be her home, as she suspected for most of her group, but being able to be around people that didn’t expect her to fight for her life was a welcome change of pace.  She would never be used to the shelter, but she knew that Edgar’s reasons for investing in it were most likely good ones.  Though she couldn’t pretend to understand the considerations an Alpha had to make, she knew that hers made decisions on the basis of his peoples’ safety.

    It took a while to locate him because he wasn’t standing tall and he wasn’t talking loud, but eventually her eyes fell on him.  He was in his usual spot behind the bar, though his stance was completely different - slumped against the bar-top, hair soft against his face as he slept.  His slumber was a quiet, frail thing, one that made Grace wary of breathing.  Slowly, she approached him, taking care to step quietly.

    You look so much different when you’re not grinning like a maniac.

    She took in what she could see of his face, half of it obscured by his arm, the other divided by his bangs;  his black-tipped nose was like a button that she felt an overwhelming urge to press. Hesitantly, she circled the bar, trying to get a closer look at him.

    Before she realised what she was doing, her hand made gentle contact with his face, brushing a strand of hair away from his mouth.  She tucked it behind his ear, unwittingly getting a feel of the back of his head.  Soft.  You take such good care of this form.  I have to wonder why.

    “Does this satisfy your curiosity…?”

    Her hand was drawn back to her side as if it’d been burned, her face heating up all at once. Though she attempted to, Grace was unable to gather her words, stammering uselessly.  She watched as he sat up slowly, stretching in his seat until his back cracked.  It seemed to satisfy him, body slouching once more before he levelled her with a look.  Tired-eyed and caught off guard, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the domestic quality of his mouth, smile seeming kinder than normal.  Suddenly, she was all too aware of the fact that they were alone together.

    “I understand you must be quite eager to lay your hands on me, but could you not wait until I was awake?”

    “Edgar.”

    “All I’m asking is for is a little patience--”

    “EDGAR--”    Though she desperately wanted to stop it, her face was only getting redder. Embarrassed, she reached out blindly ahead of her and pinched the very tip of his ear between her forefinger and thumb, pulling it lightly.  He hissed shortly, though his mouth split into a grin of amusement as they folded away from her naturally.   “I liked you better when you were asleep.  Go back.”

    “You woke me.  That isn’t my fault.”

    “You--”     You piss me off.  You’re so annoying.  It’s even worse when you’re right.  She remained tense, arms rigid, pout curled tight, and then she heaved hard, all tension let go of all at once in a whole-bodied sigh of resignation.  In a tone softer than she intended:   “... I’m sorry for waking you.  You just--  looked so peaceful.  You don’t sleep much.”

    His smile calmed, gaze no longer so mean, and in a moment of candid innocence did the Alpha stretch all of his limbs and give way to a yawn.  Sharp teeth were worn proudly on display as he rid his body of all the things that made it weak, though he could do nothing to evict that exhaustion from his bones.  He was so old at this point, he figured that fatigue was just part of the deal.  In truth, he hadn’t been surprised at all when his sleep habits had suffered after his resurrection.  Recalling death so intimately was a recipe for wakefulness.

    That guardian couldn’t even get my uprising right.  I wasn’t supposed to remember.  Not      until much later.

    “... hey, Eddie?”

    He was dragged from his thoughts by her soft voice.  Somewhere along the way, she had taken a seat opposite him, perched atop a barstool like a pigeon on a drain-pipe.  You’re one of the only people I allow to call me that.  That nickname carries bad memories but you make it sound holy.

    His elbow met the bar, face cradled in his hand as he rested against it.  His body was bent, tall frame suffering the average height of the counter, but he didn’t mind.   “Hm?”

   “You never sleep.  Why not?”

    If there was one thing he couldn’t understand about her, it was her brevity.  She barely ever wavered, even when asking him something incredibly personal.  Most shied away, cowered under his unrelenting gaze with a muttered ‘it doesn’t matter’.  Attempts to learn about him were often squashed by those who made the attempt in the first place.  Edgar couldn’t say that he minded.  He wasn’t one for heart-to-hearts.

    The Alpha chuckled softly, shaking his head.   “What have I told you about asking questions, Grace?”

    She frowned.   “Yeah, yeah.  ‘Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.’  I know.”   Her finger began to absentmindedly mess with her hair, one blonde strand twirled without restraint. He watched and watched, entranced by the movement.  I want to stroke it.  I want to pull it.   “... but if you don’t ask, you’ll never know.”

    “There’s no guarantee you’ll know just because you ask,”   Edgar replied.

    “But there’s a chance.”   She locked eyes with him boldly, demanding his attention, and he found himself thinking about it.   “A chance that I’d get to know you a little bit.  Maybe you’d let me in.”

    “You want to be let in?”

    The implication sat heavily between them.  This time, she did break eye contact, looking down at the counter as she considered the grave that she’d dug for herself.  Was she really to blame? Regardless of her opinion on her Alpha, the truth was that his mystique captivated her.  It did most.  Everybody knew of him, yet nobody knew him.  His existence was enigmatic, a question mark in a sea of certainty.  Who are you, Edgar Strahv?  Who are you really?

    The tension sat heavy between them as he leaned further forward, trying to force himself into her line of sight.  The creak of the old wood beneath him made her ears twitch, eyes flitting into corners to glance at him.  He was close, but not too close--  not near enough to be offensive.  Her gut performed a frustrating somersault, and it was out of sheer indignation that she turned her head to regard him properly.  I’m not everybody else.  I won’t bend.

    In a softer voice than she was used to hearing:   “Is that what you want, Grace?”

    Was it?  Part of her couldn’t help but be annoyed with him.  Just how badly do you want to sleep with me?  Badly enough to feign weakness?  Nevertheless, she took a leap, nodding her head.   “Maybe a little.”   Despite him possessing layer after layer of bad will, she knew deep down that he would never force her to do anything with him.  He wasn’t that kind of Alpha.  He was respectable - he just sometimes needed to have a line drawn before he could give up.   “There’s so much I don’t understand about my own leader.  It isn’t a bad thing to want to know.”

    “That would depend on what you want to know.”   He wasn’t sure whether it was because he was tired or if it was because he was smitten, but he continued with a streak of sincerity that was alien to him.   “There are things about me that are best left unsaid.  Things that would taint your image of me completely.”

    “There’s not much to taint,”   she bit back, noting the twitch of one of his ears.

    “You really think so little of me?”

    She huffed softly.     “What am I supposed to think of you?  I don’t know you.”   Even if she wasn’t, she felt close to a piece of him in the moment.  This was the most vulnerable he’d been with her throughout their history.  He’d had brief moments of transparency in the past before retreating, had admitted to things and then taken them back, but he’d never regarded her with such open curiosity.  As much as she hated to admit it, she had a lust for a different kind of chemistry with him;  one that didn’t demand the use of her hands.   “... but I’d like to.”

    Their eyes met once more, something heated fizzling between them  His gaze was so dark, an obsidian as absolute as the inside of a cave.  In truth, she felt that was accurate;  if she was going to know him in any capacity, it would be through the element of exploration.

    “Then you should let me kiss you.”

    Immediately, she scowled.   “You know what, forget it.”   She hopped down from her stool more angrily than she intended, feet all but stamping against the ground as she prepared to walk away.  Asshole.  Dickface.  No-good motherfucker--

    “I don’t sleep because of memories.”

    Her body fell still, hand paused against the door.  What had been a fierce desire to be away from him petered down into a quiet annoyance.  Tell him you don’t care anymore.  Tell him that he blew it.  Instead, Grace felt her body slowly turn around, eyes finding him in the same spot he’d been in before she’d turned away.  Even if she was, he didn’t appear to be done with the conversation.

    “... memories,”   she repeated, hand falling to her side as she meandered slowly back to the bar.   “Like nightmares?”

    “No.  Just recollections.”   Despite the fact that he didn’t feel comfortable talking about himself so personally, his stare didn’t flinch any.  Her interest was so enticing to him.  The glow in her eyes reeled him in like bait.  Even if he should have resisted, he felt inclined to share secrets with her if it would keep those embers ablaze   “Things I’d do well to forget.  About the past.” There’s only so much I can say.  I hope you understand that.   “... I feel no guilt, or remorse. Some amount of grief for things not going my way, but never guilty.  I did my best.  I did all I could.  It just didn’t pay off in the end.”

    Her seat was reclaimed, chin burying into her palm as she peered up at him through her thick lashes.   “Are you sure about the no guilt thing?”  

    His face gained a sharpness that wasn’t there before, one that had her breath caught in her throat.  When he leaned close, she didn’t stop him.  The seriousness behind his eyes stole her train of thought like a bandit, his conviction clean enough to slice her in two.  All too tenderly, his index finger met the gentle slope of her chin, angling her head up towards him.

    In a low voice:   “No.  Guilt.”

    Though some doubt still lingered in the curve of her frown, Grace nodded slightly in understanding.

    “They’re just visions.  Phantoms.  Things I can never return to.  Things I’d never want to return to, either.  I’m certain of that, but in the night they attempt to convince me otherwise.  I’d rather not deal with their incessant ramblings, so I remain awake.”   He threw a glance upwards, drawing attention to his forehead, the beginnings of a smirk growing.   “While I’m awake--  while I’m conscious of what I’m doing--  they can’t reach me.  I don’t want those memories lingering around like leeches.  It interferes with my job.  Nobody wants a leader who cannot lead because they’re too busy thinking about things long-gone.”

    Fingers released her face slowly, palm placed elegantly in front of her atop the bar.  The more she thought about the explanation, the more things began to make sense.  If she was being completely honest, she had thoughts of her own about the Alpha that she’d never dared to ask about.  He seemed different than most, and some of those differences were not good in nature. You’re smarter than most, as if you’ve seen a lot more than the average lye, but you’re also more cruel.  You just act as if you aren’t behind a thin veil of civility.  It’s almost as if you’re constantly trying to prove yourself to somebody, and I have no doubt that the only ‘somebody’ you consider worthy is actually you.

    Her head slowly canted to the side.  His eyes followed the movement ever-so-slightly, enraptured by it.  Though she had expressed discontentment with his tendency to look over her, she’d admit that it made her feel special, as if he was seeing something that constantly evaded her line of sight.

    “You’re not just a leader,”   she said, eyes fixed on him.   “You’re a lye, too.  I think you’d do well to not ignore your personal needs all the time.”

    “People don’t care about that, Grace.  They care about me fulfilling my role.”

    ���Well…”   A finger traced the counter lazily, gliding easily across polished mahogany.   “I care about it.  A little.  Seeing you sleep just then…  it was nice.”   She offered him a smile, hesitating briefly before she reached forward, patting his hand with hers.   “Look after yourself too.  It’s as much your responsibility to do that as it is to look after us.  If you screw yourself over, who’s there to lead?  You idiot.”

    Edgar watched as she brought her hand back to herself, hopping down from her perch for a second time.  She looked considerably less annoyed than she had before.  In fact, she would even go as far as to say that she was happy.  Edgar was impossible to decipher from a distance; if she truly wished to close the gap between them, she had to do so up close and personal.  The more she learned, the more interested she became.  You’re so odd, even for a lye.  I’d like to know you better.

    She went upstairs with an uncanny amount of grace, wordless but sweet, and he was left standing there behind the bar as if a patron had left mid-order.  Now that he had a moment to himself, he was able to look back on what had just happened--  to realise what it was he’d done. Why did I feel compelled to share that?  She was ready to leave without knowing a thing. Nevertheless, he couldn’t say that he was unhappy with it.

    Fondly, he shook his head, a soft smile shaping one corner of his mouth.

    “You’re so odd, Grace,”   he said to nobody, retrieving the rag that he was now well-acquainted with, beginning to wipe the counter down rhythmically.   “Even for a lye.”

#☆ — tell me how you hate me. ❜ ( ooc. ) #drabble * #/ I! LOVE! WRITING! THEM! THEIR! TENSION! IS! TO! DIE! FOR! #but yeah this is pre- grace finding out that he's a hybrid #she has her SUSPICIONS because she too is a smart cookie but has no proof at this point in the narrative #BUT I WANTED TO TOUCH ON SOME DEV POINTS ABOUT EDGAR! #SO I WROTE A THING ABOUT HIS LACK OF SLEEP!

[isolophilicmoonchild]

~Resuscitation~

You’re seated at the same table at the cozy corner of the same café you first met her senior year-6 years ago. Resting your head on the cold window pane, you look out the one-way glass at all the people carrying on with their lives unbothered by the triumphs and failures of those walking beside them. You wonder how many of them changed or saved lives that day. You marvel at how humans are convinced that the universe revolves around their existence resulting in no time to look into the lives of others, and wonder if any of them know that your very life will change in a week's time. Your eyes land on a random couple across the street walking hand in hand; love evident in their eyes by the way they looked at each other. The look of sheer fondness shone a fire that glowed brighter than yours ever did. Your mind unconsciously wandered into a period of time when your fire burnt with the same ferocity. You remember how at the very beginning of her arrival into your life as friends, she used to look away embarrassed and flustered when you caught her staring. Even after you officially asked her out and labeled your relationship, she never did anything beyond stealing she glances from afar. But as time progressed, she locked eyes with you more often, pulled you into heated kisses out of nowhere, getting bolder and more open with the idea of not being afraid of what people thought of your same-sex relationship and switching roles, leaving you a blushing and stuttering mess. Although she didn’t talk a lot about how much you meant to her, her unwavering gaze spoke volumes. She stared at you almost always when you were looking away or busying yourself with something else. Little did you know how she could spend hours looking at you squinting at your phone screen or scrunch your eyebrows in concentration while working on something. Sometimes you caught her staring and sometimes you didn’t. When you did, you looked at her questioningly at which she’d tell you with a lopsided smile about how she’s not embarrassed at appreciating true beauty and is not in the business of denying true things. You were amused every time she said things like that chucking a pillow at her and laughing it off. But internally you thanked every higher power out there for ending up with someone like her who always provided you with reassurances when your insecurities blinded you. You remember how she dragged you across the bedroom you shared one day to stand in front of a full-length mirror. Snaking her arms around your waist and placing her chin in the crook of your neck, she asked you to describe what you saw in the mirror. Your mind raced with the thoughts of every single thing wrong with you. She hushed you midway knowing that a question like that would send your mind into overdrive. Dragging er nimble fingers along your arms not taking her eyes off yours, she tells you that you couldn’t be more wrong about the things the voices in your head repeated over and over again like a broken stereo. She tells you that the only thing she sees is perfection at its finest. You smile at the mental image of her flashing her classic toothy smile at you after gently twirling you around. Facing you, she leaves a trail of kisses along your neck, leading up to your lips to show her adoration for you repeating how much she loves you. The soft background music muted almost completely by the distant chatter of the café pulls you back to the present timeline. A small laugh escapes your lips bringing about conflicting emotions; one part being the warm and fuzzy feeling of being lucky enough to have a precious memory like that registered in the recesses of your brain and the other being the unbearable pain of how you would never experience that kind of joy again. You didn’t realize that you were crying until the tears rolled down your cheek and stained the glass of the window. Quickly wiping away the evidence of your vulnerability with the back of your sleeve, your eyes scan the room for anyone who might’ve witnessed your moment of weakness; especially her. You heaved a sigh of relief when you don’t see her once red-streaked pixie hair and signature black boots squeaking with every step; the same look she wore as she walked into that very café, bells chiming signaling her arrival for as long as you could remember. Taking a sip of your neglected cup of coffee, you compose yourself, fixing your makeup to hide the cracks of emotion and reattach the seams of the tearing façade you’ve been wearing for quite a while now. You think of how as time wore, the brightly burning fire you once had was now reduced to dying embers losing its glow with each passing day. You look at the ticking of the needles of your wristwatch and sigh. You’re about to leave after being stood up for over 40 minutes when the familiar scent of vanilla hits your nostrils before you even looked up. She was dressed in washed-out ripped jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair bunched up into a bun on the top of her head had clumps of loose hair peeking out. She traded her black boots for a pair of red sneakers which she claimed suited her better now that she cashed in her leather jacket and t-shirts advertising your favorite bands for a more classier look. You see her lips move with words incoherent to you as you drink in her all-black hair with only the tips showing evidence of the once red ombre. You still remember picking out the pixie style and the wine red color from the catalog, the day she decided to get a haircut on a whim. Almost a year after that day, you found yourself sitting across her at that very table, the fading almost crimson curls resting just below her ears when she told you with pursed lips that she just didn't feel the same about you anymore. With the evidence of all romantic feelings drained from her eyes replaced with a kind of platonic love, she told you that she loved you but not in the way you wanted her to. Teardrops dripped down her chin as she told you that she still needed you as her best friend; her eyes swimming in a mixture of pleading desperation and fear of losing you completely. Swallowing the lump formed in your throat, you hugged her providing assurances that no matter what your label was, you’ll always be by her side loving her the same. A year went by as both of you regressed back to the friendship label from the very beginning; all the while not loving her an inch less. A few months later, she told you about the man she thought was the on. Though your heart cracked every time she told you about their encounters, you couldn’t help but feel content seeing her light up every time her phone chimed with a text from him or the silly twirling of her hair between her fingers when they talked. You were happy for her. You really were. But you couldn’t help but have conflicting emotions when you thought of what could’ve been. Snapping back to reality, you realize that you missed a detail in your observation as she walked in. Her slender fingers which your hands used to home almost always were intertwined with another set of fingers which were evidently not yours. His fingers. Your gaze trailed up the sleeves of his hoodie to see the smiling face of the love of her life staring back at you. She apologizes for being late claiming that they had last-minute preparations to take care of. You smiled back at her brushing it off; all the anger from being stood up dissipating at the sight of her. You can hear your heart shattering as the glimmering sunlight reflected light from the thin band of diamonds wrapped around her ring finger reminding you that in a weeks time she’d go from the status of fiancé to wife with you by her side as the maid of honor. Little did your naïve younger self know that you wouldn’t be the one making that transition. You smile at the both of them tucking back tears watching your first love look at him the way she used to look at you. Her eyes glittering with love and adoration for the person she’d spend the rest of her life with which wasn’t and would never be you. But you thought to yourself that it was okay. You felt unimaginable pain every day but you knew deep within that it’d fade with time. Until you found your “one”, you would feel the pain but that was only human. You were determined to walk out of the  café that day leaving behind the part of you that loved her. She would forever be your first love; but not your last. Before that day you were too lost in the land of heartbreak to notice anybody else. You were too busy dwelling in your heartache to notice a certain brunette sitting on the other side of the café looking at you all the while. You were always too busy recounting your past memories to notice how every time you sat on that very table, the mysterious brunette sat on hers every day admiring every feature of yours wondering what could’ve broken you so much that you wore the same melancholic look every single day and wandered in the nooks and crannies of your mind amidst faraway memories. She got her answer seeing you reduce to mush standing before a man and woman she had never seen before. There was something different about your eyes though; something which gave her hope. She could see the pained expression you wore every day but this time paired with a sense of farewell to said memories. She felt a smile grace her lips as she thought to herself that she didn’t have to wait anymore; that you were finally moving on and that she could slowly but surely ease the pain you felt and show you how to love again. As you were getting ready to leave, saying your goodbye to your first.....past love, the brunette stood up and paid for her coffee, put on her coat and without the hesitation she felt about approaching you for the past few months, walked up to you with a beaming smile taking a big leap to change both of your lives for the better.

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #excerpt from a book i'll never write #wlw #love #pride #fluff #angst #fluff ending #drabble

[the-queen-clarion]

ESFJ-A, Ravenpuff, Taurus Sun, Aquarius Moon, Scorpio Ascending

Archetype — Wise Old Man

Birthday — 4/23/1769

Zodiac Sign — Taurus

MBTI — ESFJ-A (92% Extraverted, 55% Observant, 75% Feeling, 83% Judging, 90% Assertive) - Consul

Enneagram — Type 1

Temperament — Phlegmatic

Hogwarts House — Ravenpuff

Moral Alignment — Lawful Good

Primary Vice — Workaholic

Primary Virtue — Caring

Element — Air

Overview:

Mother — Allegra Dewdrop

Father —  Florian Wellspring

Mother’s Occupation — Water Talent

Father’s Occupation — Water Talent

Family Finances — idk they were hollow fairies

Birth Order — Oldest of 2

Brothers — None

Sisters — Tessa Dazzlesplash

Other Close Family — Two aunts and uncles, four cousins

Best Friend — tbd

Other Friends — the fairies of the hollow

Enemies — Fairy Hunters/Mundus that don’t respect magic

Pets — None

Home Life During Childhood — Lived with the Fairy King, peaceful and quiet if a bit lonely. She didn’t really get to stay with her parents or her sister so she doesn’t know how it would’ve been had she done that instead.

Town or City Name(s) — Swynlake

What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Tidy, every item she had carefully tucked away in each place. In her youth she shared a space with the fairy king, and her room was in a tucked away corner. It was tastefully decorated with a row of books on one side of the room, and a loaf-pan bed.

Any Sports or Clubs — None

Favorite Toy or Game — a kite

Schooling — Pixie School, Talent Apprenticeship, Pride University for Law Degree

Favorite Subject — Law

Popular or Loner — Popular

Important Experiences or Events — The ceremony where she took her place as Queen and the fairy king was able to retire. It was such a momentous occasion, and the feeling of having that powerful connection to the pixie dust tree was astounding.

Nationality — British

Culture — Fairy

Religion and beliefs — Atheist, believes in communal giving and sharing

Physical Appearance

Face Claim —  Constance Wu

Complexion — Fair

Hair Colour — Black

Eye Colour — Brown

Height — 5′4″

Build — thin

Tattoos — none

Piercings — none

Common Hairstyle — straight and down, sometimes an updo

Clothing Style — has a tendency to wear gold and white dresses, though she also will often choose the color of another talent if she wishes to honor that group’s work that day or week. 

Mannerisms — pursing her lips, pinching the bridge of her nose, 

Usual Expression — A gentle smile (in the hollow), a rather stern look when working at law stuff.

Health

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — No

Physical Ailments — Migraines

Neurological Conditions — None

Allergies —  None

Grooming Habits — Stays properly clean. Washes every day, and goes to have her wings washed regularly as well.

Sleeping Habits — Goes to bed late and gets up early

Eating Habits — Fairly normal, probs vegetarian

Exercise Habits —  Flies around the Hollow every morning, otherwise she doesn’t do too much. Doesn’t really have the time.

Emotional Stability — Stable

Body Temperature — Normal

Sociability — Social

Addictions — None

Drug Use — None

Alcohol Use — When there’s a party in the hollow

Your Character’s Character: 

Bad Habits — overworking

Good Habits — hearing people out

Best Characteristic — Caring

Worst Characteristic — Critical

Worst Memory — Seeing the hollow nearly falter when she was selfish and wanted to be with someone she loved.

Best Memory — First experiencing her connection to the pixie dust tree and communicating with the past talents.

Proud of — her hollow, the fairies.

Embarrassed by — mundus who think they know about fairies

Driving Style — she doesn’t drive

Strong Points — She’s a caring person who wants to do right by the hollow and other magicks. She’s a tough love kind of person, but she wants to see people succeed.

Temperament — Phlegmatic

Attitude — Calm, collected. Takes time to make decisions.

Weakness — the cold.

Fears — the end of her reign as she doesn’t know what she’ll do with herself.

Phobias — Fairy hunters. 

Secrets — Was once deeply in love

Regrets — Not finding someone who understood her that would fit right with the hollow.

Feels Vulnerable When — she has no energy/strength left. When she’s forced to deal with her own emotions rather than other people’s.

Pet Peeves — being interrupted when speaking

Conflicts — sort of a person versus fate kind of thing. Maybe. Free will kind of seems a little impossible.

Motivation — To protect the hollow and magicks

Short Term Goals and Hopes — to do well on her law cases

Long Term Goals and Hopes — to see the hollow prosper and succeed under a new Queen one day

Sexuality — Pansexual

Exercise Routine  — Not much of one

Day or Night Person — Both, but more Day Person

Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert

Optimist or Pessimist — Realist

Likes and Styles:

Music — Hip Hop and R&B. She got into Lizzo recently if you’ll believe it

Books — Most autobiographical/history books

Magazines — None. She doesn’t like them

Foods — Vegetable stir fry

Drinks — Coffee

Animals — All animals come on

Sports — None really

Social Issues — Environment, Magick Rights, Fairy Rights

Favorite Saying — A dream does not become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination, and hard work

Color — Gold

Clothing — we’ll get into this later.

Jewelry — she crafts some of her own

Games — tbd

Websites — None

TV Shows — she’s strangely hooked to the Good Place

Movies — movies with snow in it. Snow Dogs breaks her heart but she’s seen that one a few times.

Greatest Want — to see the next Queen Talent succeed

Greatest Need — to figure out what she’ll do when she isn’t Queen

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Pixie Hollow

Household furnishings — a bookshelf, a bed hollowed out from an acorn

Favorite Possession — a book her mother gave her years ago

Most Cherished Possession — a flower crown her ex once made for her and frosted so it wouldn’t wither

Neighborhood — Forest of Enchantra

Town or City Name — Swynlake

Details of Town or City — You all know Swynlake

Married Before — No

Significant Other Before — One

Children — None

Relationship with Family — Neutral, wasn’t raised by them

Car — None

Career — Lawyer

Dream Career — Magick Rights Lawyer

Dream Life — She’s actually pretty content with her life.

Love Life — Nonexistent

Talents or Skills — Queen Talent (haha), making a good argument

Intelligence Level — fairly intelligent

Finances — Middle Class

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — None

Past Lovers — One

Biggest Mistakes — Falling in love

Biggest Achievements — Protecting the Hollow from the fire

#about clarion

[flipperbrain]

The Deckhand and The Dagger

CHAPTER 10: A LAZY EVENING

Summary: Hook and Jones spend the remainder of the first day of their holiday together.

[Ao3]

The bathtub has plenty of room for two. Hook prepares the water and waves his clothing away with a flick of his wrist then steps in first, leaning back to watch Jones undress. The deckhand stands with his arms akimbo, ‘You remove your clothing with sorcery but I must undress in the conventional way?’ He complains shrugging off his vest. Hook nods and smirks, ‘One of the many benefits of being me, my love.’ His eyes focus on Jones as he pulls off his blouse and follow his breeches as they slide down his furred thighs. The deckhand sets his garments aside and climbs over the porcelain edge with vigor, purposely splashing his smug companion with his foot.

Hook playfully slaps a round cheek as Jones settles blissfully into the soapy water, tucking himself between Hook’s legs and relaxing against his chest, ‘Oh this is wonderful,’ he sighs watching the steam rise, then drops his head backward onto his lover’s shoulder, angling his head to kiss his partner’s jaw. ‘Yes it is, my sweet’ Hook whispers and wraps his arms around Jones, his fingers lazily gliding across his breast and over his abdomen.

‘It has been an age of sponge baths. You have magic, why have you not conjured a tub on the ship?’ Jones laments. ‘I have not considered it before,’ Hook shrugs, having no one to share it with until now ‘it does require a large amount of fresh water my love, not usually available on the average vessel.’ The deckhand can feel Hook’s erection pressing into his hip, but lovemaking while pleasurable, seems impractical here, at least at the moment. For now he prefers to soak and be close.

He drifts in and out of wakefulness for half an hour or more, thinking about the book and the object revealed within it. Could it be the answer? And will Acela have information that can guide them to its location? He wishes he knew more about its power and would study further if there were time to do so, as much as he has enjoyed this day, he is anxious to continue on. He worries that Hook will be overcome once again, perhaps it is not wise to wait. The darkness seems to be at bay for the time being and should they not take advantage of this reprieve? He decides against pressing for answers and massages Hook’s forearm while he muses.

Hook has controlled the temperature of the bath with small gestures to maintain the perfect degree of comfort, but it has been some minutes now and he is impatient. Jones smiles when fingers begin to brush and lightly pinch his nipples, his own hand has begun to prune, perhaps it is time to wash and dress for dinner. He can smell a delicious fragrance in the air, Sofia is preparing a meal for them and he is curious about what is in store, she had loudly shooed him from the kitchen earlier barking ‘fuera!’ at him and waving a large wooden spoon when he attempted to inquire, so he must be content to wait.

He sighs and leans away with regret. With much sloshing and considerable effort he turns around to face his love; Hook looks on with amusement as Jones twists himself into position then dunks his head beneath the surface of the water to wet his hair. Upon reappearance, the bathwater cascades off of his head and runs in rivulets down his face and body, his dark mane plastered to his skull. He swipes it from his eyes then peers at his lover from under his eyebrows.

Hook is overcome with the desire to kiss him and reaches out to embrace him and find his soft plump lips, his tongue peeks out to lick across the seal of Jones mouth, slipping briefly inside when they separate. Their eyes connect, Hook’s gaze is so intense as if he is memorizing every detail of his his face, The deckhand looks back quizzically, curious why his lover is so rapt.

‘Merely cherishing this moment my dear,’ Hook says in answer to Jones unspoken question. He breaks the kiss, sheepish at Jones’ scrutiny, smiling crookedly he follows suit, plunging his head into the warm water. The deckhand grasps the large bar of lightly scented soap and brings it to his nose, a subtle fragrance of Jasmine and something else he cannot put his finger on. His lover smelling of flowers seems a strange contradiction though he appears so vulnerable now, almost shy with long wet tresses hanging in his eyes.

He knows Hook shows this side of himself only to him and feels honored by it, a worldly and fierce warrior yet so gentle and kind despite the blackness that swirls within him, revealing the man beneath the armor he has built throughout a life filled with loss and hardship is not easy for such a person. Jones begins to lather Hook’s hair, massaging his scalp then working dark strands into peaks, laughing gleefully at his spiked visage. Hook narrows his eyes and returns the favor, they work together until they are both pink and floral and scrubbed.

Hook winces suddenly and tries to hide it, but Jones can see the shadow and turmoil in his lover’s expression as they step out of the tub, Hook is struggling to keep himself in check, distress etched on his face. ‘What do you think about?’ Jones asks reaching out to touch his face, ‘Are you in pain? Is there nothing I can do to ease it?’ Hook hesitates for a moment, ’It is not unbearable…’ he circles Jones waist with his arms and grins licentiously, ‘… I might think of a way you could cure my mood, but let us sup first and enjoy the evening.’ The deckhand nods in agreement, ‘Coffee and pie for dessert?’

‘Anything you desire my love.’

Hook will not say so yet, but he fears the darkness is mounting another attack, it has been increasingly difficult to manage his pain throughout the day. He wonders if these powerful emotions of late, a counterattack of sorts, have launched a war within him that he has no ability to command. He will discuss this with Jones in the morning, perhaps three days in peace was too ambitious a wish, but he will not spoil this night with talk of an early departure.

————————

As they dress a bell sounds to signal dinner is served, Jones insists Hook wear the burgundy coat with gold embellishment he found amongst his clothing and after helping him into it, stands back to admire him with a brilliant smile on his lips. Hook would not however concede to the ivory vest and stood firmly in favor of a black brocade and wool breeches. He looks so different wearing color Jones thinks, so grand and fancy and fine. Hook rolls his eyes at the deckhand’s perusal, ‘How could I have owned such a thing,’ he laughs, ‘but if it pleases you I shall wear it.’

’Thank you, and it does!’ Jones replies.

’So I am forced to be dressed as a dandy while you lounge in my old robe?’ He says wryly

Jones feigns injury, his hand smoothing the velvet collar of the black quilted dressing gown that he has silently claimed ownership of, ’This garment is more elegant than any I have owned! And it is so lovely and soft… but I will don something else if you prefer it,’ he says with an exaggerated frown, his lower lip extended in a pout.

‘Of course not my love, I would have you happy,’ Hook answers chagrined then pulls Jones into his embrace, nibbling the offended lip before bending to thoroughly kiss his neck and suck a brand at his collarbone. ‘Forgive me my teasing, let us enjoy some food and drink. I am hungry for nourishment, unfortunately my thirst for you must go unquenched until later, I fear those responsible for our meal await our arrival.’

Jones bounces and claps upon seeing the dining table so artfully arranged, a large centerpiece made up of wildflower cuttings from the garden and a candelabra at either end softly lighting the room, Sofia has set out the beautiful Delft plates and once seated the deckhand studies the delightful images baked into their surfaces. Garrett and the cook stand ready to serve them, the first course consisting of a mushroom broth and beetroot salad. They welcome the fresh greens having existed on salted pork, biscuits and wine for several weeks.

The main course; roasted pheasant with wild rice and raisins; an herbed pudding; cheese and potato casserole and sautéed green beans with almonds. They sit together at the corner of the table, laughing and tasting each glorious dish, exclaiming at the skill of its creator. The deckhand is careful not to overindulge, saving room to savor a slice of blackberry pie for dessert.

Unlike his partner, Hook is not overly fond of sweets though he does sample them on occasion. He takes only a few bites of his own slice content to watch Jones’ ecstasy at each forkful. He has maintained such youthful wonder at life. considering the difficulties he has faced, remaining positive and hopeful is a talent indeed, and his exuberance has rubbed off.

Hook knows it was not always the case with his companion, he has not pried too deeply into Jones’ past believing he will share what he wishes him to know in his own time… but many of the events he has confided were far from cheerful. He supposes dwelling in history is not in Jones’ nature, preferring to look forward rather than back, with a remarkable ability to forgive the transgressions of others.

When the meal is finished they push back their chairs and thank Garrett and Sofia profusely for their service this night and see them out, the caretaker will ensure the cook arrives safely at home.

————————

Jones takes Hook’s hand when they are alone again and presses his lips to his palm then kisses the pad of each fingertip. ’May we retire to the sofa?’ Jones asks.

‘Certainly my sweet, I would doff this coat in favor of something more to my liking…’

‘I suppose,’ Jones makes a face but acquiesces.

The deckhand pours them each a splash of brandy and studies the soft rug in front of the fireplace, if Hook would be more comfortable then he will as well and begins to remove his clothing, draping them over the loveseat as he peels off each piece. He tosses a few pillows from the sofa onto the rug and lies down, closing his eyes he revels in the plush comfort of the fur and the heat of the fire on his bare skin.

Hook returns a moment later in a blouse and breeches, his violin in hand and does not see Jones hidden behind the sofa when he enters the room until the deckhand’s grinning face pops up into view above its back. He beckons him with a crook of his finger and Hook wastes no time setting the instrument aside and divesting himself of his garments.

‘Had I known this was your intention my love, I would not have changed my clothing,’ he says grinning taking a sip of brandy and pausing to admire his lover before joining him. He lays before him so openly, one arm behind his head, his muscled chest covered with dark wiry hair. A trim waist but not overly so, his shape toned from hard work aboard ship, having sailed on his own for some time as Hook recovered his arms and thighs appear more chiseled with use. 

One leg bent, he props himself on his elbows at his lover’s examination, throwing his head back to expose his long neck, an invitation that Hook will not hesitate to indulge in. He lays down beside his love, forming himself to his body, his thigh moving between Jones’ legs and chafing against his groin.

Hook’s fingers spark with magic and roam over Jones body, then move to comb through his hair, clutching handfuls as they kiss roughly until their lips are swollen and red. The deckhand whispers I love you over and over again as their bodies move together, Hook positions himself and pushes inside gasping as he enters his tight opening. 

Jones’ long legs wrap around his waist, his hips buck in rhythm to meet each thrust. A sheen of sweat covers their bodies as they rut together in the firelight, Hook grasps Jones’ hard length his hand still humming with magic, stroking and tugging him as he drives inside, feeling his magic pulsing around him as he slides in and out.

His lips drift over his lover’s face then he hovers above to see him when he falls. Jones’ mouth hangs slack as he pants and moans with erotic fervor, his eyebrows arching as he concentrates on the sensations below, he opens his eyes when the warmth begins to spread up his torso, watching his lover's hair flop against his forehead. 

Hook’s hips swivel and grind on and on until sweat drips from his brow, his hand working between their bodies until Jones’s mewling sounds merge together into a moaning cry as he spills out. Hook smiles down at him then covers his mouth with his own, kissing him deeply until his own thickness throbs and pours its orgasm inside. When he is finally spent he collapses into Jones arms, breathing heavily and well satisfied, his body flushed and wet with perspiration.

‘I fear we will require another bath,’ Jones grins as he mops Hook’s face with his palm. ‘Indeed,’ Hook puffs rolling onto his back, he sees a fissure in the plaster ceiling that needs repair and cannot think of another time he has looked up from this perspective in front of the fire, but knowing the pleasure of it he imagines it will not be the last. 

He waves his hand and cleans away the evidence of their sex then sits up to reach for a brandy, handing a glass to Jones and taking a long swallow of his own, grimacing as it burns its way down his throat. Returning to his lover’s embrace, ’I would have you again and kiss you until morning,’ he says against Jones mouth. The deckhand’s lips curl into a sweet smile, he would not protest.

@laschatzi @hollyethecurious @ashley-knightingale @artistic-writer @suwya @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones

Added a little lover boy art for your viewing pleasure. :)

#HookxHook #hookxhook smut #hookxhook ff #The Deckhand and The Dagger Ch10 #Dark!Hook #deckhand hook #slash

[womenhealthbeauty]

Toenail Fungal Infection

Skin treatment in winter

I love winter and I love being well tucked in, but the cold weather does bother me. From good wool hats, over waterproof jackets to good, warm and comfortable boots. Even though its winter I still like to feel beautiful and refined. During the winter one thing we primarily take care of is our face. Cold weather and low humidity result in dry air.

Cold and wind make our skin dry and because of this, we require extra facial care, which is especially important for people who suffer from dry skin. Without proper care, dry skin can lead to cracking and bleeding, harsh winter and wind only make that problem worse. Aside from using moisturizing creams that help you hydrate your skin during the cold winter, you should also avoid very heated indoor areas, having hot showers, as well as using harsh wash gels that reduce skin moisture levels.

Nail fungus early stages

During winter, a few years ago, while most of my attention was directed towards my face and skin I started to notice that some of the boots I usually wore without any issues were starting to slowly cause me discomfort. I thought it was just a slight increase in the pressure on the foot, and I'm guessing that it doesn't only apply to me because I always get some extra pounds during the winter. And I didn't pay any attention to it. I simply bought myself a slightly wider model of the boots and the discomfort was gone. However, that solution only lasted temporarily! After a few weeks, even though I was wearing my new boots I still felt discomfort.

I examined my feet and nothing seemed out of ordinary, and my feet were still the same size. It is known that during winter our feet are confined all day long in warm footwear, which can cause excessive sweating and odor to appear. I have read that just like our skin and face need hydration, our feet need hydration too. The skin of our feet also needs to be nourished with moisturizing creams to prevent it from being rough and dry. Whenever I had some free time for myself I provided my feet with a warm and relaxing bath. However, the discomfort did not seem to go away...

What is nail fungus symptoms

I did not have thickened skin on my feet, they were not cracked nor did I have a bunion. However, one detail did catch my eye. My feet had an uncomfortable odor. This was not that unusual because during winter our feet sweat and are trapped in socks and boots, this is a natural occurrence. These two factors interacting along with the bacteria, cause the occurrence of unpleasant odors. Feet are known to have more sweat glands than any other part of the body (about 500 per square centimeter). Sweat itself does not have a scent, but our feet are trapped inside of socks and boots which microorganisms find to be a perfect environment.

I stopped paying any attention to it for a time being, I got used to the discomfort while walking and sitting. This one time, while I was applying moisture cream to my feet, I noticed a small white dot on the edge of my nail. This dot wasn't there before. A few weeks later I noticed that the dot had gotten larger and it gradually transformed into a smudge that, quite literally, covered the whole surface of my nail, which now had a yellow shade! I consulted with my friend who is a beautician, and she said that it may just be a normal occurrence for the winter, but to still consult a doctor just in case. Nail bed fungus The doctor wanted additional analyzes done, so I did mycological diagnostics. The sample was taken from the diseased part of the nail ("crumbly" material at the border between the healthy and diseased part of the nail). To determine the type of possible fungal disease, the nail material is cultured on a nutrient medium, and the findings are read within 14 days. I was advised not to apply any treatments to the foot or even skin hydration 5 days before the mycological treatment. While waiting for the results I did some research and had found out that not every change on the nail is caused by fungus.

Black nails are the result of some sort of a strike and hematomas, and green nails very clearly indicate an inflammatory process and are accompanied by pain. My nail, however, was not green but yellow, so I had the hope that it was not a fungal disease. Unfortunately, after less than two weeks, the result had arrived ... I had fungal nail infection!

Is nail fungus contagious?

Fungi can generally not form by themselves. There are many fungi in our body, and we live with them, usually without any problems, but sometimes some fungi get out of control which can then cause problems like this one with nails. Nail fungi are most commonly obtained by: Walking barefoot in damp places such as swimming pools, bathrooms, etc. Spending most of your time in a humid atmosphere, whether it's because your of work or at your own home Wearing synthetic socks and shoes that do not absorb sweat or allow your skin to breathe, but on the contrary, promote sweating Sharing towels, socks or footwear with someone who has nail fungi Using infected material and nail equipment at home or a cosmetic salon. I did not go to the pool (I don't like going to the pool during winter), I don't really have a humid atmosphere at home or at my job and my beautician is a really dedicated person and only uses sterile equipment.

So there is only one thing left on the list, sweat. I had noticed that at the beginning of the winter my feet were sweating more than usual. Honestly, I thought that was a natural occurrence because every time I took my shoes off my feet were wet from sweat. I thought that if my feet were warm enough to sweat than the shoes were doing a pretty good job at keeping my feet warm and protected. Unfortunately, the combination of warm socks and boots made a pretty suitable environment for fungi to spread, which my body was not able to fight off. Best socks for toenail fungus

While talking to the doctor I found out that fungi are contagious so you need to be aware of what kind of environment you are staying in and in what conditions your arms and legs are in during the day. This is very important to keep in mind because all of the medication you take is in vain if you continue doing nothing in order to eliminate the actual cause of fungi. So you should forget about those nice synthetic socks during winter. You should stick to woolen and cotton socks that help your feet breathe. Since this was the cause, all of my synthetic socks were thrown out of the winter wardrobe. But the problem still remained. I have already been told that if left untreated, it will spread.

What does nail fungus look like?

My nail became yellow. But as an aftermath of nail fungi, you can end up having thickened and twisted nails that are full of bumps and furrows that split into several layers. Sometimes these changes affect one nail, however, it is not uncommon for them to spread to other nails, as well as to infect the skin around the nail. Sometimes infected nails separate from the substrate, so there is also a good chance that they will eventually fall off.

Particularly endangered groups of patients

There are several particularly vulnerable groups of patients with a predisposition to developing fungal nail infections. These are primarily: Older people (poorer circulation, slower nail growth, longer exposure) Athletes (staying longer in confined footwear, increased sweating because of exercise, using shared shower facilities) Immunosuppressed patients Patients with diabetes or psoriasis Certain "wet" occupations (waitresses, maids) People with increased sweating on the legs and endangered peripheral circulation

How to treat nail fungus

Natural remedies for toenail fungal infection

Tea tree oil against nail fungus The Tea tree oil has antiseptic and fungicidal properties and is one of the most effective natural remedies for nail fungus. This oil can also be used for other skin infections. If you suffer from nail fungus, rub tea tree directly into the affected area and leave it on for ten minutes. Afterward, use a toothbrush (one that you no longer intend to use) and gently rub the affected nail. Before applying the oil, you can dilute it with an equal amount of olive oil or thyme oil. This drug produces excellent results, especially if the infection had only just begun. Lavender oil against nail fungus

Lavender oil has several volatile compounds and antiseptic properties that can fight off any infection and prevent skin irritation. Mix equal amounts of lavender essential oil and tea tree oil and heat it just for a bit. Apply the mild warm mix to the nail and its surrounding area two to three times a day, preferably at bedtime. Wear a pair of thick wool socks to increase the effectiveness of this remedy. Wild oregano oil against nail fungus Wild oregano oil has an antiseptic, antibacterial, antiparasitic, antiviral and antifungal effect. This is one of the most effective oils that is used against fungal infections and is applied by mixing two drops of wild oregano oil with one teaspoon of pure olive oil. It should be applied to the nail once a day for three weeks. Even though many people confirm the positive effects of the wild oregano oil against fungi, more scientific research is needed in order to explain the cellular mechanism of its action. Orange oil against nail fungus Another natural way to get rid of nail fungus is by using orange oil. All types of oil have antifungal properties and can, therefore, be used on an infected nail. Use a dropper to apply oil and leave it on for at least one hour. You can also dilute the oil with a base oil, such as grape seed oil. Since orange oil can cause allergic reactions and may have some side effects, it is advisable to first test the diluted oil by applying it to a small area of the skin before applying it to the infected area. If your skin has any reactions to the oil than it is not advisable for you to use it. In addition to antifungal, orange oil has proven to have an antibacterial effect. Sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) against nail fungus Mix half a cup of baking soda, four cups of warm water, a quarter cup of peroxide and half a cup of epsomic or bitter salt. Mix well and add a quarter cup of alcohol vinegar. Soak the nail in alcohol vinegar for a few minutes, then apply the mixture. Cover it with a bandage and leave the mixture on the nail. Repeat the process every ten hours for four weeks. If the sequence is done regularly than the nail fungus will soon disappear.

What kills nail fungus fast

Natural home methods are certainly good but are also time-consuming. I wanted to get rid of fungus quite quickly but by using natural methods only. I have found out that toenail fungal infection can cause the following complications: Foot pain. Thickened and deformed nails are not only ugly. They can squeeze the surrounding tissue, grow into the flesh, and this can be a very painful experience. Even a simple chore such as walking can then turn into a real nightmare. Skin infection. If you neglect the fungus on your nails, they can quickly spread to the skin and around the area between your fingers. The skin then becomes sensitive, red, itchy and cracks start to appear. New places are opened, ideal for the accumulation of dirt, and you then enter a vicious circle that is very difficult to get out of. In addition to the fungus, it also opens up fertile soil for bacteria too, the skin can become infected, swollen and produce a condition called cellulitis.

Loss of nail. In some cases, infected nails are detached from the skin and in this case, the nail is removed. If you leave your nails loose, not only will they not be beautiful, you can also lose some of them partially or in the worst case permanently.

What is the most effective treatment for toenail fungus?

I wanted to avoid any complications at all costs, and I didn't want to go into surgery. I was looking for something that would be clinically tested, effective, and of course, not too expensive. The prices for nail fungus medications range all the way from costing only a few dollars to a few thousand dollars. I didn't want to try these cheapest ones at all. I did not believe that products costing $ 2- $ 3 could help me save my nails from the infection.

They are certainly not natural, and I do not want to apply any medication that has suspicious contents on to my body. Those most expensive products that cost several thousand dollars are mainly intended for professional cosmetic shops and health care institutions, and since I only wanted to cure myself and not other people as well, I eliminated the most expensive ones. Although, according to the impressions of the users, they work well. However, I did not want to spend that much money on medication. In the end, the products I was left with were all ranged in between $ 30- $ 99. Based on my own personal experience and what I had learned from others is written in several product descriptions down below.

Home remedies for nail fungus

ZetaClear nail fungus treatment

ZetaClear ingredients have a long history as an anti-fungal drug and prevent the growth and reproduction of fungus cells. It uses a natural fungicide and is FDA approved in over-the-counter medications for fungus disorders and problems. ZetaClear in clinical studies has been shown to be approximately six times more effective than any other anti-fungal product on the market using caprylic acid and is also effective in maintaining a healthy balance. Please find more info on https://www.womenhealthandbeauty.net/zetaclear-cpa-nail-fungus-treatment/ CHECK OFFICIAL SITE SEE ON AMAZON Funginix FUNGINIX is the single best combination of anti-fungal agents, essential oils and fungus-fighting extracts. In order to create the most powerful anti-fungal solution, we at Sisquoc Healthcare took the best of research from both traditional and herbal medicine on how to battle the fungus that can attack and destroy healthy nails. Active Ingredient: Undecylenic Acid, USP 10% Other Ingredients: Water, Prunus Amygdalus Dulcis (Sweet Almond) Oil, Oleth-10 Phosphate, Triethanolamine, Polysorbate 20, Acrylates Copolymer, Glycerin, Propylene Glycol, Uva Ursi (Bearberry) Extract, Beta-Glucan, Propolis Extract, Aloe Barbadensis Juice, Tocopheryl Acetate (Vitamin E), Camphor, Menthol, Melaleuca Alternifolia (Tea Tree) Leaf Oil, Lavandula Angustifolia (Lavender) Oil, Jasminum Officinale (Jasmine) Oil, Eugenia Caryophyllus (Clove) Flower Oil, Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Seed Butter, Rosa Canina (Rose Hip) Flower Oil, Cetyl Hydroxyethylcellulose, Ethylhexylglycerin, Phenoxyethanol CHECK OFFICIAL SITE SEE ON AMAZON Better Nail

Better Nail is a powerful antifungal solution with a 25% concentration of undecylenic acid combined with six high-quality, all-natural oil extracts: Citronella, Lavender, Tea Tree, Sweet Almond, Jojoba, and Clove Bud. Better Nail's specially formulated to penetrate deep into the affected area to get at the source of the problem. We know that many nail fungus sufferers feel embarrassed, uncomfortable, and frustrated with their nail health. This formula is designed to give you peace of mind! We're so confident you'll find what you're looking for with Better Nail that we offer a 100% no-questions-asked money-back guarantee. If you're unsatisfied with Better Nail for whatever reason, simply ship us the product and you'll receive a full refund. SEE ON WALMART SEE ON AMAZON H-Nail Fungus Formula

H-Nail Fungus Formula uses established homeopathic ingredients to tackle the symptoms of nail fungus on the fingernails and toenails. This unique fast-acting formula also contains pure natural essential oils and is applied directly to the condition. The product is natural and free from any harmful chemicals or additives. H-Nail Fungus Formula works by reducing the fungus in the nail bed. The product is concentrated with a deep penetrating anti-fungal action. For extra benefit, add a drop to the bathwater. When used as directed, the formula will reduce the symptoms of nail fungus such as discoloration so that your fingernails and/or toenails are restored to their former healthy appearance. CHECK OFFICIAL SITE SEE ON AMAZON Urgent Fungus Destroyer

Urgent Fungus Destroyer is a very serious, all-natural product, and if I wasn’t able to help rid your Toe Fungus, you deserve every last penny back, No questions asked. Simply send us the empty bottle, and you’ll get 100% of your money refunded back to your original payment method. Guaranteed. The ingredients simultaneously work to target key fungal build up sites in the body, and through continued use, help regenerate the skin, both below and above the surface; helping restore your nails, hands and feet to their natural health. NO MORE yucky yellow toenails, pain, itching, risk of amputations or spreading the infection to a loved one. The destroyer was literally MADE for YOU! In addition to destroying your deadly Fungus, it can be used as a dietary supplement for anyone exposed to, and seeking added protection from common daily environmental toxins; which we all breathe in every single day. CHECK OFFICIAL SITE Tiehnom Nail Cleaning Laser Device

FIGHT IT DON'T HIDE IT. Did you try all kinds of solutions to get rid of the toenail & fingernail fungus, but didn’t work? Are you always wearing shoes at the beach? This is your answer, This Nail Cleaning Laser Device is a simple and revolutionary product that kills fungus on the finger and toenails, nail beds, and cuticles with no pain or side effects; it will penetrate the infected nail plate and target causative pathogens on the nail bed. As a result, the fungal infection will be greatly al 100% SAFE, NO SIDE AFFECTS, PAIN-FREE. The lightweight, compact the Nail Cleaning Laser Device will not hurt or cause pain when treating tinea onychomycosis; no more embarrassing visits to the doctor; no more creams, sprays, prescriptions, or dangerous medicines, using it just minutes a day in the comfort of your home, you can get rid of toenail and fingernail fungus once and for all within months. its portable and charges with the electrical plug-in adapter for 3 to 4 hours. JUST 7 MINUTES A DAY. By using the Nail Cleaning Laser Device for 7 minutes daily, you can quickly kill nail fungus and see results in just a few weeks with no discomfort or side effects and no other treatment delivers nearly the same results within such time. simply place the unit on a toe or finger and press. SEE ON WALMART SEE ON AMAZON Read the full article

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