#a-chill-grey-fox

[lipglossanon]

Shimmer

Leon S. Kennedy x Fox Fem!reader <one shot>

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, very little world building, smut a plenty 😆, Leon POV, hybrid reader, teasing, flirting, kissing, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, mommy kink, unprotected sex, creampies

not proofread ✌️ just a smutty hybrid au

title from Shimmer by Fuel

Leon couldn’t believe his eyes. You wind around the trunk of a tree, bright eyes locked on him as a little smile hovers on your lips like a secret. He swallows, tracking your movement, tenebrous colored tail flickering in and out of the tree line. He didn’t know he’d see a pretty little fox this far out. 

Leon planned for his four day weekend to be a relaxing hike in the local mountains, camping for a night (maybe two), and then heading back home to veg out in front of the tv before the next work week starts. He’s been out here in the forest for a few hours now and finally found a place to bed down for the night when you appear. A gray fox isn’t as common as the red, but he’s heard people in town talk about the few that have been spotted out here in Arklay. 

Leon doesn’t consider himself a hardcore outdoorsman, but he at least knows enough about the local wildlife. The closer you get to his little campsite the more enraptured he becomes; you’re absolutely captivating. His fire crackles and keeps him warm despite the chill permeating the night air; he’s afraid to move once you take a graceful seat on the opposite side of his fire pit, flames highlighting the hollows of your face. 

“Hi,” you smile, sharp little fangs glinting at him. 

“H-hi,” he croaks, throat dry so he tries to clear it.

“Camping, hmm?” Your gaze lazily drifts to his tent and satchel before landing back on him. 

“Yeah, needed a break,” he shrugs, hands clasping together to give them something to do, “you live near here?”

“Now why would I tell a stranger where I live?” You laugh, a throaty sound that makes Leon’s blood run hot. 

A flush overtakes his cheeks, “Sorry, I-I’m just making small talk.”

You laugh again, tail shifting to drape across your lap, “You’re cute. What’s your name?”

“Leon. What’s yours?”

He listens as you answer but his eyes can’t stop darting between your perked ears and soft tail. 

“Do you want to pet me?” You grin, tail swishing back to your side. 

“What—no, I mean, maybe,” Leon’s sweating bullets, mesmerized by you but also terrified you might rip his throat out with your sharp little teeth.

Smiling even broader, you stand up and make your way to him, folding down into a crouch in front of him. This close up, Leon quickly takes in your facial features before noticing the small black collar wrapped around your neck; his eyes trace down the modest sundress to your bare legs and feet. 

“Aren’t you cold?” He murmurs, blue eyes roving back up to your curious gaze. 

“No,” you smile, “but I’ll be sure to let you know if I am.”

Leon blushes and you look delighted, kneeling closer to peer up at him. 

“You’re pretty far out for camping, little Leon,” you fingers graze over his jeans, sharp nails making his pulse race, “aren’t you scared you’ll run into some big scary animal?”

Swallowing, he shakes his head no, “I-I brought bear mace and I’m sticking to the game warden trails.”

He watches your head tilt as one of your ears flick back, listening to the dark forest behind you. 

“Hmmm, you should be safe enough then,” your smile returns and Leon feels your tail brush across his arm, “want to see how soft it is?”

With hands steadier than his heart, Leon carefully strokes over the soft fur. It’s more silver than grey with a streak of black that ends at tip of your tail. Some white highlights catch his eye as his hand softly glides down the length. 

“It’s lovely,” he murmurs, dazed eyes coming back up to lock on your bright ones. 

“Thank you, Leon,” you purr, flicking your tail away behind you, ears perking forward, “you’re no slouch yourself.”

You let your nails brush across his sandy blonde fringe before pulling away. Leon doesn’t know what it is but he’s so drawn to you that his defenses are completely down. So he makes no move to stop you when you drag those sharp claw tips across his scalp and down his neck. 

A low groan slips from his mouth and he jerks away, an embarrassed blush crawling up his neck. You laugh and inch closer, hands moving down to skate up his jean clad thighs before resting on his chest.  

“Little Leon,” you coo, “are you feeling flushed? You look red.”

“I’m,” he coughs, trying to cover up his nerves, “maybe I’m just too close to the fire.”

“Do you need help to your tent?” You hold his gaze, your little grin showing off an incisor, “don’t want you to pass out.”

Your fingers drum across his pecs and he has the intrusive thought of you ripping into his shirt to tease his nipples. Biting back another groan, he nods jerkily. 

“I should probably lay down,” he clumsily stands, watching as you easily stand next to him, hands hovering over his shoulders. 

“I’ll help,” you take his arm and guide him the few feet away over to his accommodations for the night.

Pulling back the flap, you help Leon ease down onto his knees so he can kick off his boots before placing them inside next to the opening. Before he can thank you, you crawl in next to him, tail brushing across him as you splay out on his sleeping bag. 

“Comfy,” you pat the space next to you, “come lay down, Leon.”

His cock twitches in interest and he quickly zips the tent closed; the light glow of the fire can still be seen through the mesh. Moving over to you, he copies you, lying on his side with his head propped against his arm.

“Figured you might like some company tonight,” your eyes drop down to his mouth, “don’t want you to feel scared.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulse thundering in his neck as you shift closer, legs tangling with his. 

“Maybe,” you murmur, lips ghosting across his, “you should get comfortable for bed.”

Without any other prompting, he quickly shucks off his jeans and socks before taking his shirt off just leaving him in his briefs. His cock sits half hard against his thigh and he watches as your greedy eyes take him all in.

“Mmm, not bad,” you grin at him, tail waving back and forth behind you. 

He settles back where he was and you move into his space, lips kissing across his jaw before pressing softly against his own mouth. With a groan, Leon lets your hot tongue lick into his mouth, hips rolling forward until you finally push him on his back and lay atop him. You break the kiss once to stare down in his face while you rock your wet little cunt against his bulge before lapping at his parted lips. 

Kissing you messily, Leon can’t stop from moaning and groping your ass through your sundress. The hard press of your nipples against his chest makes him grind against the apex of your thighs even rougher. Pulling away, you raise up into a sitting position over his lap. Your sharp nails tease across his pink nipples and his whole body jolts like he got an electric shock. 

“Oh, Leon,” you grin. 

He feels powerless while your fingers pinch and tug his stiff buds until he’s mewling and rocking up into your ass. Hands grabbing onto your thighs, he presses your dress up until he can see your bare cunt coated in clear slick that makes his mouth water. 

“Sit on my face,” he pants, “fuck, sit that fucking chubby pussy on my face, please.”

“What a dirty boy,” you lean forward and bite his nipple. 

Leon keens in his throat, a sharp high noise he’s never made in his life. Fuck, he thinks he might cum from just you abusing his nipples. His eyes flutter as your wet little mouth decides to suckle and tease his swollen buds; your sharp teeth scraping across them has his cock weeping precum, staining his briefs. 

“I-I’m gonna cum if you keep that up,” he finally gets out, hands tangling in his own hair, “fuck, please baby, sit on my face.”

“I guess since you’re being so good,” you sigh, sitting up to pull your dress up and off, nude body coming into view for the first time. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes out, eyes sweeping down your body. 

Your ears twitch and you smile, “You’re so sweet, Leon. Now sit back so I can ride your face.”

“Please,” he whines, helping you crawl up his body.

As you move, Leon shimmies his briefs down and off his legs. Your knees then rest on either side of his head and you gently sit your fat dripping cunt down onto his face. With a moan, Leon’s lapping and sucking up all of the slick coating your pussy lips, tongue running up and down your slit. Settling more of your weight down, you relax against him and he humps the air, cock drooling everywhere as he licks your pussy. 

“So good, Leon,” grinding your cunt down on his mouth, he flattens his tongue letting you rut against the slick muscle. 

He moans, hands cupping your ass to keep you from moving off of his face. Even if he suffocated, Leon would die a happy man. Chillbumps race down his body when your tail brushes over his chest and stomach. The soft fur of your tail eventually drapes itself over his stiff and leaking cock making him lap eagerly into your cunt, tongue fluttering against your pussy walls. 

“Right there,” you purr, nails carding through his hair and scratching at his scalp, “suck on my clit and I’ll cum all over your pretty mouth, Leon.”

More precum leaks from his slit, cock so swollen it aches. His eyes shut in an effort to control himself, control his thoughts before he cums all over himself like some virgin. You rock and grind down on his tongue, low moans filling the tent as he laps along your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Keening, you press your bodyweight down, making sure he stays suckling your swollen bud until your orgasm finally overtakes you. 

Leon moans just as loudly as you do, drinking up your slick like he’s a man dying of thirst. You undulate in place until the overwhelming feeling of his mouth has you shifting back down into his lap with a pleased little hum. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” he rasps, eyes blown out as he takes in your relaxed posture.

“Glad to know,” you tease, running your hands down his pecs and across his puffy nipples. 

He lets out a low hiss but doesn’t stop your touches. Your soft hands drift down to the thatch of hair at the base of his cock before sweeping down his thighs. 

“Finally,” you sigh, one hand slowly stroking his dick while the other cups his balls, “a nice fat cock.”

Said cock jerks and leaks even more into your palm, balls throbbing as Leon watches you play with his dick. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, slowly rocking his hips up, “you like it?”

“Mm hmm,” you purr, “I’ve had lots of men over the years, but you have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

A spark of jealousy lights in his chest but it’s washed away by the twist of your wrist around his tip making him lose all train of thought. 

“I’ve been looking for someone like you,” you whisper, eyes flashing, like it’s a secret— Leon supposes it might honestly be, “someone to mate.”

His cock kicks, a glob of precum dripping over your fingers where they’re wrapped around his length. You use the sticky wetness to glide your hand more easily up and down his dick, slowly jacking him off. He groans, hips pumping but you only loosen your grip with a sly little grin. 

“Please,” he murmurs, “it hurts.”

“Does it?” You pout, hand softly massaging his sac before tracing the seam down to his taint, “poor little Leon wants to cum?”

“Uh huh,” he drops his head back with a broken moan, “please, w’nna cum for you.”

“Oh?” 

The way your voice piques with interest has his gaze lasered back in on your face. Your attention is focused on his cock but he sees the want sitting as heavily on you as he feels.

“Since you’re being so sweet,” your eyes flick to his and you hold the connection as you rub his cock over your slippery clit, mouth dropping open to pant. 

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, hands grabbing your waist, thumbs digging into your hip bones, “please, please.”

You press his cock against his stomach and glide your soaked cunt up and down—the world's most torturous pussy job he thinks dazedly. His tip leaks so much there’s a small sticky puddle of precum forming on his stomach as your slick coated pussy lips part around his cock, hole dripping and rubbing against him. 

“You’re going to stretch me open so much,” you coo sweetly, tail swishing excitedly behind you, “hope you don’t cum too soon.”

Before Leon can even argue, you tilt his cock up and sink your pussy down on him; he knows he’s gripping you too hard, but he can’t let go when your hot little cunt’s sucking him in so agonizingly slow. 

He’s babbling too, but fuck if he knows what he’s saying; whatever it is, you don’t mind since you’re giving him that same throaty laugh from earlier that makes him wanna spill deep in your greedy hole.

It feels like a lifetime before you start to bounce on his lap, pussy squelching deliciously, making his mouth flood with saliva knowing what you taste like. The pace picks up and before he can blink, you’re riding him rough and fast, pussy clamped down on his cock like a vice. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, hands going to your hips ready to pull you up and off so he can spill all over your pussy.

He feels like a fucking teenager, not able to hold back on cumming inside your pussy like he’s never fucked a woman before. Hybrid pussy must be something else, he thinks dizzily, cock throbbing as your slippery walls pulse and throb around his thick length. 

“Cum inside,” you moan, nails digging into his forearms so harshly blood runs down his arms. 

The pinprick of pain makes him buck up harder into your spasming hole. His brain fizzes in arousal, dick buried balls deep in your soaked cunt. 

“Can’t,” he gasps, “fuck, what if you get pregnant?”

His cock thickens at the thought, balls tight against his body, at the hint of knocking you up. You laugh, that throaty sound that makes Leon throb, and you grind harder down on his lap. 

“Then mate me, little Leon, spill your seed deep inside and give me kits,” your lips spread in a smile so wide your fangs show, “breed my pussy like your cock’s begging you to.”

“Oh god,” he whines, “I-I can’t,” but he doesn’t stop himself from fucking into your pussy harder and deeper, balls aching to shoot his load.  

“Aww you can’t?” You mock, guiding his hands up to grab your breasts, “can’t fill my cunt with your thick cum? Can’t breed a wet pussy that wants it so bad?”

He’s losing the battle. It just feels too good inside your fluttering walls while he rabbits his hips against yours, cock stuffing you on every thrust. He squeezes his hands until your tits spill over his fingers, nipples hard against his palms. 

“Make me a mommy, Leon,” you croon, voice saccharine sweet in his ears and he nods before even realizing what you’ve said. 

“M-mommy?” He slurs out, body flushed and overheated as he fucks up into your cunt. 

You giggle and lean forward, “Mm hmm, you like mommies, Leon?”

He gasps, eyes rolling back as he leaks heavily inside your hole, “Ye-yes. Love mommies.”

“Good boy,” you murmur, dropping a dizzying kiss to his lips and he chases your mouth with a moan. 

“Mommy, want you to be a mommy,” he babbles out, brain complete mush now from the arousal, “want you to be my mommy.”

“Ohh?” You sigh gustily and lean forward more, pressing your breasts into Leon’s face. 

Taking the hint, Leon’s hand shift down to your ass so he can mouth and suck at your tits, licking and suckling your nipples as he thrusts sloppily. 

“Mommy,” he murmurs, tongue lapping at the soft skin of your breasts before sucking a nipple into his hot mouth. 

Whining, his eyes flutter shut. If he breeds your cunt, you’ll leak milk from these gorgeous tits. He moans loudly, the thought turning him on so much he can’t stop sucking your nipples. He pumps his hips up into your soaked cunt, feeling you drip slick down his cock to drip off his balls. 

“So hard, Leon,” he distantly hears your voice, “being such a good boy for me, fucking your mommy so good.”

Mewling against your breasts, he bites the puffy bud in his mouth, tongue lashing against it until you’re squeezing and rocking down on his dick. He could fill you to the brim, bust his load deep in your pussy and keep you on his cock til it takes. Eyes rolling in pleasure, he swaps to your other breast, mouth greedily suckling the hard nipple into his mouth. 

He pulls away, mouth brushing across the stiff peak as he looks up at you, “Mommy, gonna cum for you, gonna cum so hard in your pussy.”

“Good boy,” you smooth back the sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead, “if you fill me up you can keep me, a mommy all to yourself.”

His eyes drop to your collar and you grind down hard on his cock making him moan. 

“This is to keep people from getting any ideas,” you smooth your hands down his chest, nails scratching at his abs and making them tense, “you can put your own collar here if you want.”

Leon closes his eyes, trying his best to behave. Having you in a collar he picked out? Coming home to you waiting for him, maybe even splayed out in his bed, wet and wanting his cock. Shuddering, he blindly mouths at your chest nuzzling until he finds your nipple to pull into his mouth with a rough suck. 

“Mommy, ‘m so close,” he groans, “wanna keep you on my cock forever.”

You pull yourself from his lap with a loud wet suctioning noise that makes his balls draw up tight. The words to keep you sitting on his cock die in his mouth as you kneel down at his feet with your back facing him. You dip at the waist to press your chest into the sleeping bag as you arch your ass into the air. Your tail mesmerizes him for a minute before he scrambles up onto his knees behind you. 

“So pretty,” he slowly strokes his hand down your tail and you moan longingly, spreading your knees to present your wet little cunt to him. 

“Breed me, Leon,” you look back at him, ears twitching and teeth biting your bottom lip, “want you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, notching the head of his cock at your opening before slowly sinking inside. 

His hands grip the fat of your ass, eyes unable to pull away as he watches your pussy eagerly suck his cock back into your slick soft heat. The first few thrusts are slow and deep, letting him luxuriate in the feeling of burying his cock in your hot little pussy. 

“Harder,” you whine, hips pushing back, “give it to me, Leon.”

He lets out a pained grunt as he pumps his cock in and out of your tight hole. Leaning forward, he braces one hand on your shoulder to pin you down as his other grips your hip. The new angle lets him piston his dick deep and hard into your slick greedy hole. Moaning, Leon rabbits his hips faster and faster, balls smacking your clit on every thrust and making you squeeze his dick. 

Moving the hand from your hip, his fingers seek out your slippery swollen clit and rub soft circles across the pudgy bud. 

“So good, such a good boy,” you pant, nails clawing his sleeping bag to shreds, “god, you’re gonna make me squirt.”

The words turn Leon on so much he nearly blacks out. Chills race down his back and he teases your clit from side to side, dipping down to wet his fingers from the slick leaking from your stuffed cunt before pinching your bundle of nerves.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he gasps, leaning back as he slides the hand from his shoulder down to grab the base of your tail, “gripping me so fucking tight.”

He tugs lightly and you keen, body thrashing wildly as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his cock. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” he groans, chin dropping to his chest to watch him fuck your cunt. 

The more he pets and tugs on your tail, the harder you squeeze down on his dick. Leon’s fingers also never let up on teasing and rubbing your clit while the fat tip of his cock kisses your cervix and makes you squeal. 

“Leon, ungh— fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you slur out, drooling on the slick material of the sleeping bag.

“Please cum for me,” he keeps the same breakneck pace paired with circling your clit and tail, “want that fat pussy creaming my cock, mommy.”

Your body locks up underneath him and Leon feels a gush of slick push his cock out and wet thighs; quickly recovering, he shoves his dick back inside your spasming walls and humps your pussy fast and hard. 

“You fucking squirted,” he whines, “never had a girl squirt on my cock and you fucking—god, I’m cumming, fuck, this chubby fucking pussy is making me cum, oh mommy—”

Leon nearly collapses as he presses himself as tight against your ass as possible, balls drawn up tight and pulsing as he spills deep inside your cunt. Your slick walls milk him for every drop— his dick spurting rope after rope of thick hot cum until it’s dripping from your used hole. 

When he goes to pull out, you whine and press your ass back against him. 

“Stay,” you sigh, “don’t want a mess just yet.”

Shuddering, he groans as your walls flutter and hug his cock. In no time, he’s just as stiff and hard as he was ten minutes ago. 

You moan low in your throat, “You can go again?”

“Yeah,” Leon’s breathless reply surprises himself, cock flexing inside your pussy and making you whine. 

The second time Leon creampies your pussy is rough and nasty. 

Pulling out, he flips you onto your back and slips his cock back inside your cunt. Slick and cum ooze out around his fat cock, but he’s too busy pressing your legs up and over his shoulders to notice.  

Mewling against his messy kisses, you clench and whine from Leon’s rough fucking. At this point, he can’t stop himself from giving it to you hard and fast.

“Gonna fuck your little cunt all night, mommy,” he knows he has no filter at this point, completely pussy drunk, but it doesn’t stop him from talking, “you’re gonna be stuffed to the brim, stuffed full of my cum.”

“Leon,” you moan, nails digging into his back and making him buck harder, dick knocking into your cervix roughly. 

“Yeah? Like that? I’m gonna pound this hot little pussy til you can’t take it anymore. Fuck, ‘m gonna give my mommy what she needs,” he growls out, feeling your heels bounce against his back with his thrusts.

“Want it,” you grin wickedly up at him, “give it to me, Leon. Be a good boy for mommy.”

He’s too wound up from earlier so in no time at all Leon’s cumming inside your pussy for the second time that night. His fingers pinch and rub your slippery clit until you’re clamping down tight on his cock, milking him into overstimulation as he finishes spilling his seed in your sticky walls.

Pulling out with a grunt, Leon collapses next to you with a sigh. Laying there in the quiet, he lets his heart rate drop back to normal before turning to you.

“You really want to get pregnant?”

You smirk and it makes his pulse race. 

“No, that little issue has been fixed,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “but it’s fun to pretend, right?”

Leon’s cock twitches against his thigh and he nods. 

“Yeah,” pink blooms across his cheekbones, “I liked it.”

Curling up into his side, he softly runs a finger across one of your ears. 

“Can I really keep you?” He whispers.

Night sounds slowly seep back into his awareness as a cicada screams nearby. 

“Can you truly keep a wild thing?” You muse humorously, head tilting back so he can see your bright eyes. 

At his contemplative silence, you run your hands through his hair with a half smile, “But I want to go home with you, Leon. If the offer is there.”

“Please,” he blurts out, not caring if he sounds desperate or whipped, “I’d love for you to come home with me.”

Smile softening your features, you brush the fringe from his eyes, “Then, I’m yours.”

Relief and excitement fills his chest and he grins, “Perfect.”

#hybrid au #hybrid!reader #fox!reader #leon s kennedy #leon smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x hybrid!reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x hybrid!reader

[steviewashere]

In Sickness and Health

Rating: General CW: Discussions of Medical Issues, Referenced/Past Seizures Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Older Steddie, Canon Divergent, Steve Harrington has Seizures, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Breakdowns, Hurt/Comfort, Angst & Fluff, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is giving them space when they need it."

💕—————💕

Eddie has learned to revel in quiet afternoons, even when he’s alone. The way the sunshine bathes the apartment’s living room carpet—his and Steve’s apartment. Their cat, Poncho, settled heavy and warm in his lap. A chilled glass of southern iced tea and a plate of crackers and sliced cheese. The television volume on low. Book open and set on the arm of the couch. It’s good, the quiet.

Yet, it breaks the moment the front door opens. He didn’t hear Steve stick his key in the lock. But he definitely hears his annoyed groans and huffs. The slam of the door, most likely shut with his hip. A muffled, “Damnit”, when he drops his keyring on the floor.

He peeks from the edge of the couch, eyes set and attentive at their front door. And Steve is there, wrestling with his puffer jacket, grumbling under his breath, kicking his legs and stepping on the backs of his sneakers—something he never does, he cares too much for those things. But here he is. One t-shirt stuck on a doorknob away from a breakdown.

Though, Eddie doesn’t chastise him for the way his emotions express. No matter how explosive they are. Steve just gets like this some days. Too angry to talk. Too begrudged to take care of his things.

What’s new, however, is Steve’s slightly splotchy, puffy face. Red and pink and white. The tears brimming in his eyes. Ever apparent even behind his glasses. A paper with professional scribbling on it—a doctor’s note. He had an appointment this morning. Made last night after an emergency room trip. A seizure is what put him there. Scared them both, Eddie too eager to make him take an appointment, to call in sick to work. He should’ve gone with, if this is how Steve’s coming home.

He plops Poncho on the couch, letting him stretch skywards and curl back into a little ball. Tea abandoned on the coffee table. And Eddie gently comes around the corner, hands hooked in front of himself, still dressed down in pajamas, eyes wide and expecting at Steve. 

“St—“

Steve shakes his head. A hand held out in front of him. Jacket and shoes abandoned by the front door. And he sidesteps Eddie completely, barreling down the hallway, slamming the bedroom door behind him, and locking it.

Eddie lumbers after him, slowly, cautiously. Face to the wood of the door. And through it, what breaks his heart, he can hear Steve’s soft cries. He resigns himself to some time on the couch. Steve always needs his space after breakdowns like these.

Needed it after Max woke up in the hospital, half-blind, limbs mostly healed. Needed it after Eddie came out of surgery, pock-marked and head shaved, half a grimace on his face. Needed it when Robin moved out of state for college. After Dustin and Lucas and Mike and Will and Eleven and Max all graduated high school, when they went their separate ways across the country, when they called once or twice a month. When his dad died, the grief a heavy blanket on his shoulders, his chest lighter, his brain angry at being relieved. 

Steve needed his space when Eddie brought home their cat (though he came out merely ten minutes later, an excited smile on his face, name on the tip of his tongue). Nightmares and dissociation episodes. At the grocery store, because he has to stick to a list, knowing that Eddie never does that. The first grey hair, which he then took in stride when Eddie called him a “Beautiful baby silver fox.”

Even after they moved to Massachusetts in 2008 and got married. His emotions were so strong, so palpable, so rapid—he just needed a moment to debrief, take a hot shower, and then cuddle into Eddie’s side on their honeymoon bed.

Point is, Eddie knows when Steve needs his space. Knows that he cherishes that time to himself, to break down in contemplative silence, to let himself digest new information or old information or just get himself restrung. 

He wishes that Steve had been taught that it’s okay to breakdown in front of his loved ones. That it’s okay to ask for help and for comfort. But it doesn’t come easy. It makes him guilty. It makes him scattered like a headless chicken.

For the mean time, Eddie sets himself down on the couch, iced tea in his grip, volume turned up slightly on the television. Steve doesn’t like it when people hear him cry. Eddie doesn’t acknowledge it either, for the sake of saving Steve from another impending breakdown. He loves Steve with all his might, he just wishes things were slightly different. He’ll do this, ever reluctant he may be.

——— Around thirty minutes later, an average amount of time for Steve, the bedroom door creaks open. Eddie quickly turns down the TV and gently places his now empty glass on the coffee table.

Small, floating from the hallway, Steve calls out, “Eddie? Can you—“ He sniffles, voice still choked up. “Can you come in here, please?”

The sight that Eddie wanders in on breaks his heart a little further. Steve’s face is still a splotchy mess, his eyes downcast and teary, waterlines pink. His hair, grayer now, is askew. There’s a definite slump to his body, where it rests on the edge of the mattress. Hands intertwined between his legs, fingers locking and pulling one another, socked feet shuffling on the rug. He got out of his day clothes, now back in his pajamas from the night before—sleep shorts, grey t-shirt.

Eddie closes the bedroom door behind him. He scoots over and kneels down on the floor. Hesitantly, he sets his palms on Steve’s knees. He rubs the inner skin, warm and soft, with his thumbs. “Whatcha need from me, baby? Ask me to do anything, I’ll do it.”

Steve sighs, breath shuddering as it leaves him. His exhale ends on a little whimpered hiccup. Instead of answering, he grabs the paper he was holding earlier and passes it over. It’s edges are wrinkled, probably from being handled roughly, maybe even scrunched. And Eddie was right, it’s something from a doctor’s tablet. Signed off with a messy scrawl:

— Instructions for handling seizures. — What to do if a seizure lasts longer than five minutes. — Steps on how to start the process of getting a service animal. — Firm directions telling the patient to not drive. — Prescription for Tegretol CR 200mg

And the diagnosis in thick, blocky, bold black text:

Epilepsy

Eddie sighs through his nose. He swallows thickly and looks back up to Steve’s defeated face. He murmurs, “I should’ve gone with you. I’m sorry, love bug.”

Shrugging, Steve mutters, “Thought I was done with the after effects of the shit back in Hawkins. I’m so—Angry? Disappointed? I don’t know how to feel.”

The paper is set back on the mattress and Eddie pulls Steve into his chest. He rubs a hand down the length of his spine, the other squeezing around his waist. “You’re allowed to feel however you want. And it’s okay to take the time to figure that out, too. This is hard stuff, baby.” He sways them from side to side. Closing his eyes in relief as Steve’s arms wrap around his back. Something that, unfortunately, doesn’t happen enough when he’s in need of comfort. His hands grip tightly to the back of Eddie’s t-shirt. Eddie gently turns his head and kisses Steve’s cooling, still ruddy cheek. “We’ll start figuring this out. Like we always do. I’ll be right here for you, alright?”

Steve nods against his shoulder. Muffled into Eddie’s neck, he asks quietly, “Can I have some more space and alone time?” He shifts to slowly release Eddie. “Just for a little while. I promise I’ll hang out. I just needed to tell you, so that it’s not harder later.”

He pries them apart gently. Arms still encasing Steve, he holds soft eye contact. “You take all the time in the world. I won’t be offended, sweetheart.” He kisses Steve’s forehead now. When he sits back on his heels, Eddie brings up a hand and runs it through Steve’s hair, fingernails dully scratching at his scalp. His smile is lopsided, the youngest it’s been since the first confession. It comes easier now, “I love you, you know that? I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Steve murmurs, barely returning the smile, and yet it’s there. Eddie revels in that, too.

And when Eddie goes to exit the bedroom, door almost shut behind him, Steve calls out his name one more time. Looking back, Steve swamped in their comforter, glasses folded on the bedside table, wrapped up and warm, Eddie tilts his head in careful implore. He hums in question.

“Thank you for understanding,” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for telling me, I know it was hard. If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room, okay? I’ll keep the TV low, but tell me if it’s too loud.” Steve nods, shifting under the blanket further, fully supine on the mattress. He looks more relaxed. He looks a little easier. “Have a good nap, love bug. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 6 #heed the tags #I promise it'll be okay

[dyingstars-if]

Hypothetical situation. The Ro and MC live together and it’s been years since the main story. Ro is just chilling in the living area, and suddenly MC just kicks down the door and runs in with a duck under one hand, a flaming tree branch in the other, soaked in water, no shoes or socks with the most panicked expression on their face. And when ask wtf is happening MC hurriedly yells “NO ONE’S DEAD-“

How would each RO react?

as if krios wouldn’t have been diving feet first into all your mayhem with you. ‘there’s need for you to look so panicked, my love…if anyone has an issue with what we did, i’ll remove them from existence 🥰’. xe’s your babygurl fr !!

rune is so used to you at this point, they’re just like ‘that’s nice, dear, but you should put the duck back before it gets stressed and then come take a bath with me’. would then loving wash your hair and let you talk their ear off about your adventures.

ez is too busy trying to work out the logistics of this because the duck and you being soaking wet correlates, but where tf does the flaming branch come into it? my baby is going to go prematurely grey at this rate from mc’s antics 😔 (at least they’d make a sexy silver fox/vixen).

aren’s just there like ‘that’s a shame, we should rectify that’ and then kills someone. just like that they’ve taken the attention off of you so you don’t need to explain anything. aren’t they a good partner?

bonus:

faolan has accepted duck as new pet.

#answered #ro: krios #ro: aren #ro: ezlyn #ro: rune

[mais-nerdy-corner]

Have I sent a request to you already or is this my first? If it is then I want another Tighnari fic. Anything will do. But I prefer reading it with a female reader. I just want to be loved by TIGHNARI. Give me fluff please please please or angst if you feel like it, I equally love both. I want Tighnari to love me please please please.

Also, I had been looking for your Tighnari fic where reader is dead and only left with his daughter. Thank you for making it.

I just divorced Wanderer.

❝𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊❞ | 𝕿𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Synopsis: What if Tighnari's spouse didn't succumb to her illness in an alternative universe/timeline.

Pairing: Tighnari x Female! Reader

Genre: Angst & fluff, hurt/comfort

💮 — Author Answered: Nope, I'm pretty sure this is your first one (if I'm not gravely mistaken :v). Lucky for you, I had something chilling in my drafts for quite some time (and I kinda miss writing for Tighnari). Thanks for the request!

Note: The synopsis will probably make more sense if you've read the first part (or you can read it after this, I won't judge you). Also, I know that alternative universe and alternative timeline are two entirely different things, but I don't know what's the difference. So I just put both, you get the point hehe :3

Perched atop of the largest tree in Gandharva Ville, is a little fox-eared girl adorned in flowers complete with floral binoculars as well. Her name is Zahra. She was surveying the grey skies above Pardis Dhyai, ​​which means it was bound to rain there. Knowing that, there's only one thing came to her mind.

'Papa...'

As she continued to look through her binoculars, Zahra's large and pointy ears twitched a few times. Not because they're itchy, but because she was not alone.

"There you are, my little flower. What are you doing up here? Get down."

It was you, her mother. Hearing you call her, Zahra immediately got down to a much safer place. You kneeled down in front of the little girl, holding both of her hands in yours.

"What are you up to now? Hmm?"

Your question earned a silence from Zahra, as she looked back at the direction she surveyed earlier. Zahra may be the type of child who often gets into trouble, but she will never keep secrets. And she felt safe enough to share it with you.

"...I'm worried that Papa hasn't applied his plant-based waterproofing oil to his tail before leaving for Pardis Dhyai. And looking at the color of the sky above it, it looks like it's going to rain heavily," Zahra confessed.

You let out a sigh of contentment as you went to pat your daughter's head.

"That's very considerate of you, Zahra. But your father will be fine. He doesn't want us worrying about him all the time, does he? So I know he can take care of himself."

"...Yeah, you're right. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. Thanks, Mom," Zahra said.

You smiled at her before standing back up. Pulling out your floral pocket watch, it showed a bit past lunch time.

"A little past lunchtime... You haven't had lunch yet, have you, sweetheart? What do you want to eat?"

"Uhh... Ooh! Mushroom Hodgepodge!"

"Even your tastes resemble your father's, huh? Alright, let's get Ashpazi to cook it for you."

(Meanwhile, at Pardis Dhyai)

The Traveler had just finished talking with the manifestation of the Balladeer, indicated by showcasing his newfound power by causing lightning around Pardis Dhyai. Paimon who remembered that Tighnari and Dehya were still outside, immediately asked the Traveler to go check on them.

"That means anyone outside is in danger! Let's go, Tighnari and Dehya still must be fighting!" Paimon urged.

They ran outside and saw that the Fatui soldiers were not there, meaning they must have retreated.

"Oh, have the Fatui retreated?" Paimon wondered.

"Tighnari and Dehya are over there!"

The Traveler and Paimon rushed over to them, and something seemed amiss.

"Hey! What happened to you!?"

"He's hurt," Dehya said.

Tighnari quickly denied Dehya's words, but regretted it soon after. "I'm fine... Ugh!"

"Don't move. I've seen Eremites get struck by lightning before. You need to rest."

"Struck by lightning!?" Paimon exclaimed.

Dehya recall what happened when the both of them were not there. How the weather suddenly became abnormal, how lightning started attacking everyone, almost as if it were alive. Just very bizarre things, to the point of forcing the Fatui soldiers to retreat.

The Traveler apologizes for Tighnari's wound, reasoning that it was probably them who might have triggered the thunder and lightning.

"Huh... It's alright, I'm sure you also never expected this to happen. Don't blame yourself," Tighnari said.

Even though he is wounded, Tighnari still worries about others rather than himself. "My wound aside, you look like... you've seen something unpleasant. Is Haypasia alright?" he asked.

"She's okay for now, but I want to tell you something."

"Ugh...!"

"Hey! Didn't I tell you not to move?"

"Just in case... Ugh! Let's... go to Haypasia's place, and talk about things there."

They headed inside and continued their conversation. The Traveler recounted everything from "meeting" the Doctor at Port Ormos to their encounter with the Balladeer while checking up on Haypasia.

Hearing the explanation from the Traveler, Paimon, Tighnari and Dehya each had their own reaction. Paimon was surprised by what the Balladeer was thinking, Tighnari ridiculed the Akademiya's god creation plan, while Dehya had a more “positive” reaction.

Nonetheless, with the Doctor out of the picture, Dehya took this as their plan being successful.

"Yay, that's a big accomplishment!" Paimon cheered.

"Ugh! I'm... also happy for you," Tighnari said.

Dehya thanked Tighnari and told him to rest, along with the Traveler.

"Yeah, yeah... alright," he responded.

"Okay, that wraps things up for us here at Pardis Dhyai. Traveler, it's about time we rendezvous with the others at the Grand Bazaar. Let's continue to keep a low profile. You can head there once you're ready."

"Ugh... What... What time is it?"

By the time Tighnari woke up, it was already dark outside. That meant he must have had enough rest, so maybe this was the right time for him to get up.

"Agh! Perhaps... that wasn't such a good idea."

Tighnari sat back down and leaned against the wall behind him. He thought to himself, what should he do now? His body was aching from the long period of inactivity, but at the same time moving wasn't a good idea. So... what now?

Being so deep in thought, Tighnari forgot to pay attention to the "wall" he was leaning on, as it suddenly started to move.

"Hm? What the– Oh, Karkata. Sorry, I didn't realize that I was actually leaning on you."

"Kulilu?"

The mechanical crab Tighnari saved was named Karkata, created by a Sumerian researcher by the name of Abattouy. It seems surprised that Tighnari moved and thought it was the one who woke him up.

"Kuli..."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who leaned on you and made you cautious so you don't wake me up, I should be the one apologizing."

It turned out that after some time spent with the mechanical crab, Tighnari began to understand what Karkata wanted to say. Certainly a lot easier to communicate with each other.

"Look, I'll just move over he—"

Tighnari quickly regrets his decision to move. Instantly, his entire body ached as he clutched on to his side. Karkata was confused about what to do seeing him in pain. It moved around, thinking of ways to help Tighnari but it hesitated.

Karkata suddenly remembered the cherry blossom bracelet you gave, which was laced at one of its joints.

(Flashback)

Tighnari took you to Pardis Dhyai to meet Karkata, and it was the first time you meet the mechanical crab. When you first approached Karkata, it was confused and somewhat cautious of you. It's understandable when you're meeting a complete stranger. But seeing Tighnari was the one who took you there, Karkata quickly warmed up to you.

"So, Karkata was created by your junior researcher named Abattouy?" you asked as you pet the mechanical crab.

Tighnari who was leaning against a tree answered, "Yes, he was the one expelled from the Akademiya for researching mechanical life forms. When Karkata took me and the Traveler to their 'new home', we only found his already cold body."

You grimaced at the image in your head. "I wouldn't know how to react if I were it too. Poor Karkata, it must have been through a lot..."

Suddenly, you took out a bracelet and tied it to one of Karkata's joints.

"Karkata, if you ever feel that you're troubled, always remember this bracelet. Come meet me at Gandharva Ville. Oh wait, do you even know the way there? Don't worry, next time ask Tighnari to show you the way."

(Flashback ends)

"Kalu! Kalu!"

"Agh... What is it, Karkata?"

The mechanical crab immediately showed the bracelet, and Tighnari slowly caught on.

"Isn't that the bracelet that Y/n gave you? What, do you want me to take you to her?"

"Kolu!"

Tighnari sighed. "As much as I want to, I can't. I can't move and who will look after Haypasia even if I could? Actually, now if I think about it, how can I even get there?"

(Back at Gandharva Ville)

"Aha! I won!"

"Aww, I lost... I must say, you're getting better at this, Zahra."

Sitting on the floor of Collei's hut, they were playing a game of Genius Invocation TCG with you as the audience. Collei won the previous match, this time it was Zahra's turn to win.

"Hehe, I like it when I win. Let's play again!" Zahra exclaimed.

"If you two keep going at it, eventually I will understand how to play this game. I can't focus on my work if all I think about is tactics and strategy to win. Plus, it's getting late and way past your bedtime."

"Aww, just one more match please~"

"At first I also still wanted to play because we tied. But now that I think about it, I'm getting pretty sleepy..." Collei spoke up.

"See, even your contender is unable to keep up. You can continue this tomorrow. Now, put your cards back into the box."

Zahra started tidying up her cards while you help Collei put her cards back into her Casket of Tomes. After she finished, Zahra's ears started twitching again, causing the fox girl to turn her head.

"Uncle Amir's dogs are barking again. Shouldn't they know how to behave by now?" Zahra said as she exits Collei's hut.

You and Collei watched Zahra leave before looking at each other and laughed.

"Be sure to wear a blanket when you sleep. It feels like it's going to be cold tonight."

"Mm-hm, I will. Goodnight, Y/n."

You kissed Collei goodnight before exiting her hut. You then found Zahra with her hands on her hips, examining the broken bridge.

"Someone really should do something about this bridge... Ooh! I have an idea."

Zahra then used the Dendro Vision on her to lift the two ends of the bridge and connect it with flowering vines.

"Eeepp! Doesn't that look pretty? Especially if you add small lanterns to the bridge," she said, satisfied with her work.

"As for the lanterns, I'll talk about it to your father or other Forest Watchers. And you should probably give back my Dendro Vision, Zahra. You wouldn't know when I'll need it."

"We're just dealing with some unruly dogs. There's no need to use your Vision, Mom."

Zahra was wrong. It wasn't just some unruly dogs. Amir's dogs were barking at the cowering Karkata who has brought Tighnari back to Gandharva Ville.

"Ugh...! Amir, can you tell your dogs to back down? They're scaring Karkata..."

"I'm trying...! Hey guys, calm down. The mechanical crab is friendly. It's one of us...! Come on, Sag. You're my best student, you should know better."

After seemingly succeeded in calming the dogs down, you arrived at the scene. The person you were waiting for his return was indeed back, but not in the condition you expected him to be.

"Tighnari?"

As Amir helped Tighnari down from Karkata, he let out a grunt, which made you rush to his side.

"What happened to you?"

"Stuff happened. It escalated to me having to clash with the Fatui and... Please don't panic when I say this... *sigh* ...I got struck by lightning," he answered.

"You got struck by lightning?!" You and Amir said at the same time.

Even though Tighnari told you not to panic, you couldn't help but do the exact opposite of what he just said. I mean, how could you not panic? The love of your life literally fought off soldiers from the most powerful military force in all of Teyvat, and then he got struck by lightning? How could you not?!

"In that case, I should carry you back to your hut. Here, get on my back," Amir said as he crouched down.

"That's not necessary, Amir. I can walk on my own."

Amir who was getting tired of his resisting colleague argued, "Please don't be so stubborn, Tighnari. What if you injure yourself more on the way there?"

"Here. Use this instead."

Zahra who had been silent all this time, suddenly brought a stretcher made from your Dendro Vision's powers. She probably made it when you and Amir were panicking over Tighnari.

"Good thinking, Zahra! Alright, hand it to me," Amir said.

Tighnari sighed as he turned to his daughter, "You really shouldn't have, Zahra... I already told you... I'm... fine..."

"Tighnari!"

Tighnari's words trailed off as he slowly fell backwards. Luckily you were right beside him and were able to quickly caught him.

"Okay, maybe now the stretcher is needed. Nasrin, can you help us out over here? We need the extra help."

(In the early morning)

"Tighnari? Are you awake?"

Cyno the General Mahamatra invited himself to enter the Forest Watcher's hut. When he saw Tighnari and you had fallen asleep, holding his hand on the side of the bed, he wanted to take back his stupid question. But he was too late, because someone already answered him.

"Nope, obviously not. But I am, so, there's that."

"What are you doing up so early?"

It was Zahra, the Little Forest Ranger in Training. She was eating something as she sat down on her foldable mattress on the floor.

"I couldn't sleep after what happened last night, and probably because of the adrenaline that caused me not to realize that I'm hungry. I didn't want to wake anyone up so I cooked up a bowl of mushroom rice for myself," she said.

"Then it must have been serious. Can you tell me what happened?" Cyno asked.

"I can, but not here. Again, I didn't want to wake anyone up and they both really needed their sleep. Let's go outside."

"Wait, before that, do you have a spare blanket that you're not using?"

'The General Mahamatra is cold?' is what Zahra first thought of when Cyno asked that question. Not wanting to question him, Zahra went to get a blanket that was stored in the lower cabinet of a shelving unit.

She then gave the blanket to Cyno, who then draped it over your shoulders. Zahra couldn't help but “aww-ed” a little.

"There. Come on, let's go," Cyno said.

With her blanket tied around her neck and her bowl of mushroom rice in hand, Zahra and Cyno exited the hut and looked for a place to sit.

"Now that we're outside, can you tell me what happened?"

Zahra then recounted the incident last night.

"I had just finished playing Genius Invocation TCG with Collei when I heard Uncle Amir's dog barking. So me and Mom went to che—"

"Did you win or did you lose?"

"Huh?"

Cyno's interruption did surprise Zahra, but she laughed it off. "We actually tied. So we'll continue it tomorro– Wait... technically it's today huh..."

"Hm. And although I can't be there to witness it, I'll be rooting for the both of you. I don't care who wins or loses, I will be happy either way."

"Aww, thanks. Now, can I continue the story?"

(A flashback that's written from Zahra's POV)

I watched as Nasrin and Uncle Amir carried Papa off to the hut, with Mom following behind. I then approached the mechanical crab that had been silent from earlier.

"I believe your name is Karkata, isn't it? I just wanted to say on behalf of my mom and also from myself, thank you for bringing my Papa back safely. She didn't mean to forget to thank you, probably because of her panic. And don't worry, Papa is in good hands. I've made sure of it."

"Kolu!"

"Hehe. Now go hang out somewhere away from the dogs. I'll go check on things over there."

By the time I got inside, they've already taken off Papa's hoodie. I still remember how shocked I was to see the scar on his upper body. It spread out like tree roots, with an electrifying purple tint.

I can't lie that I'm scared and worried, but I'm trying to keep my cool. On the other hand, mom is really freaking out. She paced around the room, checking Papa over multiple times, getting ingredients for the ointment, even messing up her workplace in the process.

At that moment, I just knew I had to do something.

"Zahra, give me back my Dendro Vision. I need it to–"

I grabbed onto Mom's hands and held it, looking at her with a stern look. I could tell from her face that she was a little surprised by my actions.

"I can take over from here. You can go out and take a breather."

I knew Mom would refuse and try to argue, so I quickly silenced her.

"It's okay, you've done well. You deserve a break."

She simply sighed and left the hut.

(Flashback and Zahra's POV ends)

"So what happened afterwards?" Cyno asked.

"Well, I did my thing and let Mom back in. I found her hugging her knees just outside the hut on the floor. She immediately rushed to Papa's side the moment I told her she was allowed back in. It also couldn't be help that the commotion woke Collei up..."

"Hm. I see..."

Cyno then went silent and was deep in thought. Zahra was silent too and was just about to spoon a spoonful of mushroom rice into her mouth, when she realized that her bowl was empty.

'Aww, I'm out of mushroom rice...' she thought.

Suddenly, the General Mahamatra stood up and pat Zahra on the head.

"Whaa– Hey!"

"I have to go now. Today is going to be a big day for the people of Sumeru, and I have to make sure the preparation is thorough. Get enough rest so you can win that Genius Invocation TCG match!" Cyno said.

"Oh, okay. Geez, excited much... Uhh, good luck, Uncle Cyno!"

(A couple of days later)

You heard the sound of birds chirping, that meant your consciousness was starting to return. When you woke up and looked at the hut's entrance covered by the large leaf curtains, you noticed how bright it is outside. It couldn't be that it's still early, right? So you got up, tidy up your bed and headed out.

"Good morning, Y/n! I see that you decided to sleep in today. So I made some Pita Pockets for breakfast. Would you like one?"

As you rubbed your eyes, you processed the voice that greeted you. And after a while, you realized it was Collei.

"Collei? What are you doing out of bed? You could've gotten yourself injured. What if you fall over?"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry! I feel much more energized than the previous day," she replied.

Hearing her reply, you then sighed. "I appreciate your effort in convincing me, Collei. But I'm afraid I–"

"No, this is for real! It feels like as if my Eleazar disappeared without a trace..."

"...What?"

Unintentionally, you pulled Collei's hand a little too hard to confirm what she said. When you realized you're being too rough, you murmured a quiet 'sorry' before continuing. You detached her sleeves to see the dark, hardened scales on her wrists had disappeared completely.

(Somewhere nearby)

Tighnari and Zahra were alerted by the sound of crying, sounding like it was coming from nearby. The Forest Watcher asked her to investigate the sound with him. The little fox-eared girl quickly stuffed her half-eaten Pita Pocket into her mouth, before putting down her plate and taking her other Pita Pocket with her.

"Y/n, what happened?"

The moment they reached the location, Zahra and Tighnari were stunned. They saw you crying as you crouched down and Collei who was confused about how to comfort you.

While Zahra took a bite of her Pita Pocket as a way of reducing her shock, Tighnari let out a sigh of contentment.

"I guess you found out about Collei's recovery if you're crying like that, Y/n. I too was shocked when she said that the scales on her body had disappeared. At first I thought that it was impossible since Eleazar had no known cure, but I gave up figuring out how. I think, for now, it's best if we be grateful for this unexpected miracle."

"I can assure you that these are tears of happiness, Tighnari," you said as you hugged the Trainee Forest Ranger.

The Forest Watcher came closer and pulled the both of you into a hug. Zahra who was still chewing the rest of her Pita Pocket, quickly swallowed it and joined in.

"Hey, I'm being left out! Group hug!"

[Author's Note]: Oh noo, poor Hat Guy 😅 I'm sorry this took so long, but I managed to finish it as my internship program is coming to an end. I only have about 10 days of break before returning back to school 😭

Hopefully I could finish that other request that's nowhere near done before I start my senior year of high school. Wish me luck :')

Publication date: July 6th 2023

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

[marimayscarlett]

Do you think Richard lets his grey hair grow out a bit when he isn’t touring?

I like the idea of him chilling out at home in all his silver fox glory.

Hi 👋🏻

That's a topic I'm thinking about on a weekly basis. Richard really loves his jet black hair dye and has been quite loyal to it in the last two decades, yet I think he's a bit more relaxed about it in his downtime 😌

My suggestion is that he might let his hair grow out just a bit when it's not required to stand on stage, or when he's just too lazy to make his next hairdresser appointment (unasked for little fact: he once mentioned in a podcast that the hairdresser studio he frequents always has 80's themed radio playing, and he always is a bit irritated that he could sing a long to almost every song, no matter if he likes it or not. Oh the power of 80's music).

In my mind, Richard is lounging on his couch, getting the rest he needs, watching one movie classic after the next (where he also sometimes gets lyric ideas from as he mentioned here) and his hair looks like this - just a little touch of grey but not too much. I don't think he's ready to delve into the silver fox era just yet 😅

#rammstein #richard kruspe #grey haired Richard 🤍 #Richard hair lore

[elitesheepi]

It's always canon-age Zutara or old people Zutara, what about middle-aged Zutara huh?

Mid-40s Zutara reconnecting with each other again after both of their kids had left the house and Zuko. Katara traveling the world again and finding herself in the company of her old friend she's spent too long not seeing.

His hair's gotten longer, she aged gracefully while having a cute wrinkle to her smile.

He's planning to abdicate the throne soon, so he's way more relaxed than she's seen him be in years. He's still hot-headed and awkward, she's still picks at him to eat and sleep properly. She tells him to not fuss over her, he tells her she looks just as beautiful as he last remembered.

Her hair is turning grey, his beard already has plenty of greys. She teases him and calls him a silver fox-wolf. He tells her she resembles a pearl.

There's a full moon and she's dragging him to dance with her near the turtleduck pond. She hasn't danced like this in years, he hasn't danced at all. "Too busy being with...fire lord...duties" he lies. Fire lord duties that involved galas and many times she saw him standing to the side like the awkward turtleduck he was. Many times she wanted to grab his hands and pull him with her to the center of the room and guide him in a dance. Wouldn't be a good look for the Avatar's wife to do that though, wouldn't it? She regretted the many years she spent not doing it. Hopefully tonight makes up for it.

His hands are rough and firm, decades if writing documents and firebending left their mark. Her's are smooth like a stone left in a river, all hard edges smoothed away with him. Dedication to being a healer will do that. Any knicks from cooking or remnants of raising a ramboncious child gone in the second she touched water. Here, there fingers curl within each others and hold onto each other tight--what are they so afraid of? Nothing can make them let go.

They dance in small circles as the moon highlight every wrinkled smile and crow's feet on their faces. Despite her jokes about the white in his hairs from raising a indignant and stubborn Izumi, he's just as handsom as she remebered. Even more handsome actually. She tucks the loose hair from his face and tries not to blush as he kisses her palm. What is she, a teenager? A teenage girl standing in the kitchen with him on Ember Island and trying not to let his prescence alone stop her from cutting the mangos he got from the market. That fails when she knicks her finger and he grasps her hand to kiss away the crimson blood flowing bubbling from the little cut.

The squeak she let out at the time was hilariously embarassing. Her hand was yanked away and she shoved it into the collected water in the sink. In seconds, the cut was gone. His face matched his shirt, she kept her eyes firming on the fruit and hoped he couldn't see how she kept looking at him from the corner of her eye.

Later that night, she smothered her face in the pillow as her traitorous brain forced her to remeber the feel of his lips on her skin. (Finger skin, but skin nonetheless.)

"I panicked," he explains, refusing to look her in the eye, and raspy voiced sounding pained with self-cringe, "I didn't think--I hoped you wouldn't remeber that."

She laughs and lets go of his firm, hard hand to hold his face. Her thumb touches the edges of the scar. Katara feels the chills of the crystal catacombs all over again. She pushes that away though. That was decades ago. This is now.

"I did," Katara replies with a smile. The tips of her feet allow her only so much height. Curse the sands of time for allowing him to grow even taller while she remained only a couple of inches away from the height of her teenage self.

"Are you feeling panicky now?" She asks once she finds her balance with her arms slung around her neck and his hands keeping her steady on her waist.

That golden colored eye widens before narrowing down as he bore deep into her sapphire eyes. Like before, he said nothing as he leaned down and kissed away. His lips on her's, her hand tangled in his long hair, only Yue is their witness to their clandestine reunion.

30 years. It took 30 years, two marriages, a couple children before they found each other again.

#zutara #where's aang? idk pick your poison in that regard #this quickly got away from me idk how #katara #zuko

[ravenvsfox]

something electric in the blood

hey woah it's my birthday again! this year I've decided to subject you all to the tfc superhero au that's been in my back pocket for 2 years. feedback would be a very chill birthday gift, but I'm also just happy to be here (not letting this story languish in a textedit file)! ok! rock on etc

________

Neil’s mother could call a monsoon down from a crisp blue sky. Her power was tearful and tormented; she was always wreathed with rainwater, a grey veil obscuring her face.

Neil’s father was righteous electricity. His power was a fork in a wall socket. He went off before he was even born; his lightning struck his mother dead from the inside out. A killer before he even entered the world—a born murderer.

Mary spent the first few months of her pregnancy wishing quietly for a miscarriage, petrified of a fatal lightning strike from the storm brewing inside her. Lucky for her, Nathaniel was never anything like his father. (He takes solace in this many times, when he’s old enough to understand how dangerous his powers can be.)

Long before he was Neil, he could cradle sunbeams in each hand, whistle for hail, and bend fog around his enemies like blindfolds. He could cover his footsteps with peals of thunder as he ran, and wash away crime scenes with downpours. 

When his mother was killed, he struck their car with lightning over and over, and watched the white flames burst the windshield and warp the metal. He set the beach on fire all around him, staggering and tearing his hair, smoking the sand into glass and then cutting his feet to pieces as he ran. 

He kept running for months after that, his powers spilling like loose change out of a hole in his pocket. And he was so determined to survive that he no longer had a say in which parts of the weather he wanted, like—instead of checking specialty books out from the library, he was pulling down entire shelves by accident. 

Now, in the final stages of his weather sickness, he finds himself screened behind fog and ice most of the time, tidal waves dragging anyone who comes close, sunlight pouring in and out of his body like fever. Most urgently, an electrical storm is always very, very close to the surface; lightning is thick in his nose, tickling his throat, writhing half-formed above him in the veins of clouds. He’s afraid it will make a weapon of him, when he’d give anything to be something else.

Read on AO3

_______

The stranger finds him in an abandoned mall, at the tail-end of his breakdown. Neil had filled the first floor up to his waist with rainwater, filtered down through the caved in ceiling—a shattered skylight that he had ripped lightning through like a hacksaw. He'd beckoned clouds down over all of the windows and finally slept, exhausted, in the eye of the storm. 

The man appears out of the blue, drenched, in the foodcourt-turned-swimming pool. Water laps around his belt and bleeds up his shirt. His hair is plastered to his forehead and his expression is unreadable. Neil peers at him steadily across the water. Reflections of the graphic 90s wall decals float innocently between them.

“Neil, I bet.” He wipes his wet hands on his shirt. Through the water, Neil can see his boots grinding against broken glass. “Call me Wymack.”

Neil unfolds his legs, letting his feet dangle from the table he’s perched on. He waits patiently for violence. “How do you know who I am?”

Wymack smiles, half-cocked, maybe a little pissed off to be up to his waist in Neil’s mess. 

“Not every day that a storm eats a shopping mall.”

“I asked how you know who I am,” Neil reiterates, “not if you have eyes.” His voice is raw from misuse. Everything is kind of echoey and green, in this washed-out mall of his.

“Alright smartass. I’ve had you flagged for a while,” Wymack says. “I keep tabs on supers who I think might be a good fit with my Foxes. We’ve known the general shape of you since you flattened that barn in Ohio.”

He narrows his eyes. “There’s no way you could connect me to that.”

Wymack raises an eyebrow. “You’ll notice I said flattened. As in levelled. As in hailstones the size of kittens. In the middle of August. Who else has that kind of power? A functioning dairy farm, Josten. It was a slaughter.”

Neil flinches. “Fine,” he mutters. “I know. Why are we talking about it?”

“A ruined barn, a glass beach, a total whiteout in the middle of a grocery store, this castle in the clouds you’ve hooked up for yourself? Seems like a pattern. Seems like a breakdown, actually. My job is to step in when a super loses their shit, and I think we both know you fit the bill.”

“So what happens now?” Neil asks slowly. He’s struggling to keep his voice even, but he can feel thunder brewing, metabolizing in his gut. “You take me to superpower rehab? Give me dampeners and lock me in a basement? Fuck off.” 

Wymack looks unimpressed. “Talking out of your ass must be another one of your special powers.”

Neil scowls.

“Look,” Wymack starts, wading two steps closer. “I’m offering you an opportunity to be a part of a team of people like you. We all know the heroes and villains model is psychotic, but shit, powers are made to be used. We use ‘em. Find people, fix things. Or break things, if they’re not working right.”

“You’re vigilantes,” Neil says.

“No,” Wymack says, breaking out in a wicked grin. “We’re government mandated. Barely. My team is powerful. It’s in everyone’s best interest to let them hunt criminals so they don’t become them.”

“You left out the part where we’re all already criminals,” an entirely new voice says. It takes a moment for Neil’s eyes to adjust to the fact that it belongs to someone standing directly in front of him, having materialized seemingly out of thin air.

Neil clambers backwards, and a little taser beam of lightning ricochets perilously close to the water they’re all standing in.

This new stranger is so close that he can see the tawny colour of his eyes. He’s short, nearly chest-deep in the water, with a shock of blond hair and a chalky, sullen face. 

“Jesus, Andrew,” Wymack complains. “How long?”

Andrew’s static expression twitches, and he’s a foot to the left without straining a muscle.

“Don’t fucking pause me when I’m talking to you,” Wymack says, nonsensically.

“Were we talking?” Andrew asks. “I forget.” He circles Neil carefully, nearly soundless in the water.

Neil frowns, still in the slippery process of righting himself on the table. His shoes screech against a flaking metal chair.

“Speed?” he demands. It comes to mind immediately, the way Andrew is sort of flitting like a hummingbird, punched out of reality and then clipping back in somewhere else. Neil has always been obsessed with the straightforward usefulness of super speed.

Andrew’s gaze turns shrewd.

“Wrong brother.”

“Excuse me?”

“Settle down. He’s green, Andrew,” Wymack interrupts. “He doesn’t know shit about the Foxes.”

His eyes flicker to Wymack and back. He glitches, and Neil’s neck is wrenched to the side by an open-handed slap to the face. His vision blurs. Lightning strikes the roof.

“Interesting,” Andrew murmurs. 

“Christ,” Wymack exclaims, “what have I told you about antagonizing volatiles?”

“You can manipulate time,” Neil breathes, holding the back of his hand to the pain-flushed apple of his cheek. Andrew snaps his fingers and disappears.

“He can manipulate my patience,” Wymack says, turning a slow, sloshing circle in the water to scan the balcony overlooking the food court. His eyes focus suddenly, and Neil follows his gaze to find Andrew lounging at the top of a long-broken escalator. Wymack sighs. “Quit showing off.“ 

Andrew blips directly behind Wymack, who trips a little bit, slapping his hands uselessly into the water to find purchase.

“Could you turn this to ice?” Andrew asks coolly, stirring the water with his index finger.

Neil shakes his head. “Once it’s out of the atmosphere I can’t really do shit with it. What else can you do with time? Reverse it or—“

“There’s only one button on my remote,” Andrew says simply.

“Not that I’m not enjoying these pleasantries,” Wymack says. “But I’ll take an answer now, Neil.”

“You called me a ‘volatile,’” Neil accuses.

Wymack rolls his eyes. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Every single one of my Foxes was classified as a volatile when I found them. It’s not an ugly word.”

He thinks of his father splashed through the news attached to that word, of being hunched over a police scanner full of dirty voices hissing volatile spotted, in pursuit of volatile, volatile resisting arrest. It was always about putting down anyone with powers before they could even think about being empowered.

“Depends on who’s using it,” Neil says. He shivers, and it snows a little, a miniature avalanche like something off of a disturbed tree branch. Andrew puts his hand out into the flurry, producing a fistful of slush that he promptly chucks at Wymack. It collides wetly with his chest, sticking there momentarily like a pathetic badge.

Wymack looks skyward. “Give me strength.” He seems to realize that the sky is Neil’s domain when a few more errant snowflakes catch in his hair, and he shakes them off, disconcerted.

“If I come with you,” Neil starts. “Can I stay anonymous?”

“Sure. We’ll get you a mask,” Wymack says, stone-faced. Neil can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He squints. Wymack sighs. “Look kid, I don’t care what you’ve done up until exactly now. You leave here with us, we officially work together. That means I accommodate you. I get you what you need to function. A place to sleep. Doctor visits. Dampeners if you need them.” Neil bristles, but Wymack powers on. “And in return, you work for me. Help us keep things balanced.”

Neil looks at him for a long, searching moment, feeling the snow blowing out of his chest, a sudden spring thaw. His sneakers are soaked, and the thought of a place to sleep where the weather can’t find him is so tempting.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll do it. But how do I know—”

He’s barely spoken when he feels a strange vertigo, a retreating, phantom pressure, and he realizes he’s been transported instantaneously to the back of a car. It’s indescribable, the absence of even a blink between one set of surroundings and the next. He feels like he was in some sort of virtual reality and his headset was ripped off.

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

“You ask too many questions,” Andrew says.

“You moved me here?” he demands. Andrew looks at him blankly, as if this should be obvious. “I can walk,” he grits out. “Don’t waste your powers on me.”

“I was tired of your babbling,” he says. “You already agreed to come with us. The Foxhole needs us more than you need your self-punishing little enclosure.”

Neil glowers out the window, his fingers itchy on the unlocked door handle. A dozen metres away from their spot in the faded tarmac grid of the parking lot, Wymack is wedging open the defunct automatic doors at the mall’s entrance, emerging in an absurd flood of rainwater. 

“If the ‘foxes’ are so capable, shouldn’t they be able to take care of themselves?”

“You would think,” Andrew says wryly.

Wymack wrenches the handle on the driver’s side door, but it just snaps back into place, locked. Andrew twirls the car keys on his middle finger. 

“Enough,” Wymack says, long-suffering. He raps on Andrew’s window until his fingers jangle, and he and Neil realize at the same time that the keys are now dangling from his wrist. (Andrew’s middle finger is still raised.)

Climbing inside the belly of the car, Wymack jabs a button on the console and the headrests whack down and catch Andrew and Neil both on the crowns of their heads.

Andrew makes an affronted noise. “We have a guest,” he says.

“We have a time crunch,” Wymack says. “Not that that’s ever meant anything to you.”

“Renee will take care of it.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” he argues, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot before the tide from the mall can roll out to meet them.

“What does Renee do?” Neil asks.

Wymack meets his eye in the rearview mirror. “She deals with a frankly inhumane amount of bullshit, mostly.”

“I meant—“

“I know what you meant,” he gripes. “I was getting to that part. You’re going to have to learn at least an ounce of patience if you’re going to—“

“She’s a shifter,” Andrew says.

“A shapeshifter,” Neil repeats incredulously. He’s so frantically jealous for a moment that he has to bite down on his tongue.

“She can turn into pretty much anything with a face,” Wymack says.

“You’re joking.”

Wymack rolls his eyes. “I wish I was.” He takes a hand off the wheel to jab a thumb at Andrew. “You think one of him is bad, imagine three of him underfoot.”

They lapse into silence for a moment as Neil considers this. Scrubby spring scenery whips past, Wymack taps an absentminded tattoo on the gearshift, and Andrew sits utterly, perfectly still at Neil’s side.

“What do the rest of the Foxes do?” Neil asks, badly feigning nonchalance. He’s calculating how much of this could be useful to him, the ways he could co-opt supernatural speed, stopped time, or a thousand disguises. The possibilities are staggering.

“They should probably tell you themselves,” Wymack says, slanting another knowing look at him in the mirror. 

Andrew snorts.

Neil narrows his eyes. “What, are they bad?”

Andrew glitches into the passenger seat, and Wymack nearly loses control of the car, clipping the horn with one flailing hand. “Last time he got too comfortable with the secret identity reveals, Kevin made him walk out into traffic.”

Neil absorbs this like a punch to the stomach, thinking of miscalculated lightning and swift punishments, a father with a bolt in each fist.

“Don’t listen to him,” Wymack says, “It’ll rot your brain.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Andrew says simply. He flicks a circle of beads dangling from the rearview, and less than a second later, they’ve disappeared.

“Jesus suffering christ,” Wymack says. “Put those back.”

“What?” Andrew says blankly, and Neil considers that any of these glitches might represent minutes, hours, or days where Andrew has been suspended, alone, in time. 

He wants to ask him how long he can stay outside of time, if he ages in the infinite space between seconds, or if it’s as peaceful as it sounds to be the only moving thing in the universe. Instead he asks, “How do you make someone walk into traffic?” 

Wymack sighs. “Well, if you’re Kevin, you get inside their head and tell them what to do.”

Andrew glances backwards. “Your worst nightmare, I would imagine.”

Neil’s neck is hot with anxiety just thinking about it, but he sets his jaw, defiant. “You don’t know me.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I know what someone who’s afraid of their own powers looks like. And I know how easy it would be for Kevin to set you off like a firecracker.”

Neil wordlessly rolls down his window and calls down a hailstone the size of a baseball.

“No more powers in my car,” Wymack snaps, deftly forcing Neil’s window up so he has to snatch his hand back, dropping the ice out into the street. “Honestly, it’s like I’m running a daycare.”

“You don’t have a power?” Neil asks.

“I have the almighty ability to withstand annoying questions.”

“Excuse me if I’m curious about how a powerless stranger tracked me all the way to nowhere, where my—where no one else thought to look, just to enlist me into his knock-off suicide squad.”

“Well first of all, let’s make one thing absolutely fucking clear,” Wymack says, twisting in his seat, one hand steady at the bottom of the wheel. “Just because someone can’t—or won’t—use any superpowers, it doesn’t mean they’re powerless. If you listen to a word I say to you today, let it be that. Got it?”

They watch each other for so long that Neil starts to feel uneasy. The car should’ve drifted off the road by now. Maybe Andrew’s correcting their course by increments. Maybe Wymack actually has a banal, embarrassing kind of GPS power that keeps wheels to pavement.

“Fine,” Neil says, clipped.

“Good. If you call Abby powerless, I guarantee she’ll give you an earful about nursing school.”

“Who’s—“

Andrew makes an irritated noise, and when Neil looks up at the sound, he’s disoriented again by an instantaneous shift in light. His head snaps to the right, and he finds Wymack dumped unceremoniously beside him in the backseat. Andrew is busily turning the engine off up front, and a sleek, black parking garage is spread out around them, like a high-tech hangar in a sci-fi movie.

“Chrissake,” Wymack says. “Give me the keys.”

“You have them,” Andrew says tonelessly, and then he disappears. Wymack sighs and starts working on disentangling the keys that have just been magicked onto one of his earrings.

“Does he move other people around like that very often?” Neil asks.

“When the mood strikes him,” Wymack says, kicking the door open and swinging a leg out. Outside of the car, he continues, “he used to say that things have different weight, when they’re paused. All that shit like gravity, velocity, friction—they function differently when time isn’t affecting you.”

“He told you that?" Neil asks. Wymack nods. "Huh. Wouldn’t have thought he’d be so forthright.”

“Amazing what sobriety can do to a person.” Wymack holds up a hand before Neil can speak again. “More on that later. We have a facility to tour.” They’re approaching the subtle seam of a door in a broad expanse of wet-looking dark concrete. Neil hadn’t even been able to make out that it was a door until it was close enough to touch.

“Right now?”

“You have something better to do?” 

Neil shrugs. He was kind of hoping to be shown somewhere dry and windowless, but he can play house-tour.

Wymack puts his thumb to an inconspicuous tab jutting out of the near-invisible door-frame, the mechanism beeps and clicks, and the the wall sinks inward. 

“That was the main lot, this is the atrium.” The door folds itself away like a bird’s wing, and Neil follows his host into a dark hexagonal space, black walls and cubbies like something from a locker room, everything lit up at the seams with artificial techno-orange. “We usually meet here before a mission, gear up and ship out.”

Neil rolls his eyes at Wymack’s back. Between the faux-military slang and the wannabe spy movie facility, the benefit of the doubt is already stretched paper-thin.

The hallway ahead is long and uniform, with identical corridors extending in either direction every ten paces. They come across a series of matching but modified outfits behind glass, displays full of black, orange and white leather, bulky looking jackets, masks, caps and gloves, boots and holsters. 

“Gear,” Wymack says, lingering at the farthest case, a petite, broad-shouldered suit with a full mask, strappy vest, and brass knuckles on a hook. Wymack taps the glass. “Each of these cases opens up into a personal changing room. You’ll get a custom suit. Probably something water-proof and—“ he purses his lips against a smile. “Shock-resistant. Hope you like rubber.”

Neil examines a suit with thick, elbow-high gloves and an ornate half-mask. “I don’t really care what I wear.”

“Glad to hear it. Some of my Foxes were not so flexible.” 

“Someone say flexible?” 

Neil looks up just in time to see a shape drop from an air-duct overhead, like paper spit from a printer. When it hits the floor, it’s a person.

“What the hell,” Neil says flatly.

The newcomer grins. He’s tall and wiry, and his hair is gelled up into deliberate-looking peaks. Even with a complete, three-dimensional heft to him he seems stretched out, like a teenager still growing into his legs. He offers Neil a friendly hand. “Matt Boyd. And you’re the new recruit, Neil, right?”

He nods, accepting the handshake. He glances meaningfully upward. “That can’t be more than a half-inch gap.”

Matt laughs, obviously pleased. “They don’t call me Flex for nothin'.” His hand becomes putty in Neil’s grip, and when Neil tries to extract himself, Matt has him in hand-handcuffs.

“You could escape anything,” Neil marvels, half-gawking at the unseemly image of Matt’s taffy-stretched, bisected hands, slithering back and becoming whole.

Matt looks sideways at Wymack, still smiling. “He is fresh. Still has the capacity for surprise. That’s kind of nice, actually.”

Neil’s shoulders hitch upwards, defensive. “It’s been a while since I’ve met new supers.” His mother had kept him in the most oppressively average and un-stimulating hideaways she could. If he ever met supers it was by accident.

“Well that ends today, dude,” Matt says. “We see crazy new shit pretty much all the time.”

“I’m starting to get that.”

“Your thing is weather, right? You got a demo in you?” Matt asks slyly. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Wymack says quickly, but Neil is already feeling his way skyward.

They’re underground, but he can still kind of always sense the atmosphere, whispering in from outside through filtered air or natural light. It’s as simple as finding a loose end and tugging.

He blinks, and suddenly, the hallway is a wind tunnel. It’s just a little air show, but still, the gusts are so intense that Wymack has to take a step back and steady himself against the wall. Matt whoops joyfully, his immovable gelled hair whipping back. He uses his stretch powers to balloon outward like a parachute, and the wind catches his rubber body and drags him twenty feet down the hallway.

Neil rolls his neck, satisfied, and the wind dies out. “If we were above ground, I could give you a real show.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Matt says, jogging breathlessly back towards them. “Man, we’re going to work so well together. You can be the wind beneath my wings.” He quirks a genuine smile at Neil, who relaxes in spite of himself. 

“Don’t you have crime to stop?” Wymack asks drily, and Matt rolls his eyes. 

“I mean, if I can’t stop some trouble, I can always make some.” He swerves unnaturally out of the way, laughing, when Wymack reaches out to cuff him over the head. “See you soon, Neil,” he calls, taking one enormous stride to the very end of the corridor, around the corner, and out of sight.

“Everyone shows off for newcomers,” Wymack says, pushing steadfastly ahead. “Please don’t give them the weather-works every time.”

Neil shrugs. “He asked for it.”

“Yeah, and you’re a real people pleaser, huh?”

The tour trundles on, through the tunnelling halls of a facility that is slowly revealing itself to be as well-appointed as it is well-hidden. They pass through a wide-open common kitchen area with enough dining space for twenty; an enormous training gym outfitted with targets, mats, a reinforced spectator box, and a fully stocked library of weapons and armour. 

There are a couple of available sleeping quarters, spartan, but outfitted with sturdy furniture, clean bedding, and storage like Neil has never even thought to ask for; a lounge with a beaten-looking couch and chairs, a smaller kitchenette, an entertainment system, and a pool table; and a professional-grade medical station, equipped to hold what looks like the entire team at once. 

Neil meets a laser-focused Abby Winfield in the med bay, where she’s tending to a surly Andrew look-alike with a bruise-mottled grimace on his face. Aaron’s gaze darts and slices like a bird unsettled from its perch when Neil enters the room.

Neil asks him if he ran into someone’s fist, but he doesn’t rise to the bait, just casting a haughty look down Neil’s rain-soaked jeans as he hops from the exam table. Abby seems to realize what’s coming a moment before it happens, because she waves a still uncapped tube of ointment in one hand and says, “Aaron, don’t, I’m not—“ but he’s already blazed from the room, head-spinningly fast.

Wymack shrugs an apology for their intrusion, and Abby sighs, offers Neil a surprisingly generous smile, and shoos them from her office—but not before promising a full physical exam for their newest team member.

Neil swallows his instinctive horror to being examined in any capacity, and forces himself to follow Wymack out from the exposing light of the medical hall. From there, they find their way to an imposing set of steel double-doors at the heart of the labyrinth.

“Mission control,” Wymack says, scanning them seamlessly inside. Neil can tell from the quality of his voice that this is the tour’s grand finale.

It’s a massive space, tech-ed out, and the obvious hub for the entire operation. There are sprawling screens full of moving data, a huge table, lit up from within, with stray files and blueprints littering its surface. There are also towering rows of black filing cabinets lined up against the far wall, a computer system too complex for Neil to understand most of its controls, and a couple of inconspicuous doors leading to what must be private offices.

“We do most of our planning here.” Wymack gestures towards the network of screens and keyboards. “Comprehensive database, files on every super in the country, past battle strats,” he nods towards a white-board over by the meeting table. “Individualized training schedules. My office over there.” When Neil follows his sightline he finds a woman standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes level and keen. Neil waves awkwardly, and her mouth pulls charmingly to the side like a swept curtain. “And that’s Dan Wilds,” Wymack finishes.

“The most important part of the base, right boss?”

“If you say so,” Wymack says, but he's smiling.

“Nice to finally meet you, Neil Josten. Gotta say, I was pretty impressed by your glass beach.”

He tries not to grimace at the thought of it. “Thanks,” he says. “It was accidental.”

She laughs good-naturedly until he doesn’t join in, and then she raises both eyebrows. “‘It was accidental,’ he says. Like he didn’t change the geography of half the East coast.”

“It’s not modesty,” Wymack says. “He really doesn’t know what kind of trail he’s been leaving.”

“I don’t really like to look—back,” Neil says.

Dan’s eyes glint. There’s something sturdy and well-balanced about her, like a broadsword. “Well. Amen to that.”

“Wait, why did no one tell me he was here already?” someone exclaims, bursting in from the double doors behind them. Dark-haired and animated, the new guy is wearing a hyper-casual graphic crop top and joggers, and when he sees Neil properly, he says, “oh christ, your aura.”

“He means to say, hi, I’m Nicky,” Dan says. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, for sure, hi, I’m Nicky,” Nicky says, waving a distracted hand. “I can’t believe how fucked up you feel.”

“Excuse me?” Neil says, face burning, caught (as he often is) between anger and shame.

“I feel what you feel,” he says, with some relish. “No wonder we’re having inclement weather.”

All of Neil’s gauges go haywire—instant panic. It’s even worse than Kevin’s supposed powers of compulsion. The thought of all his hard-won habits, straight-faced lies, and tooth and nail emotional regulation being undone by a little empathy is too terrible. Like a bad joke. 

Wind whistles in his ears. Dan winces sympathetically as Nicky makes a wounded noise and grabs his own skull, staggering backwards. A wave of energy flows visibly through the air from his body, and Neil feels it impacting his own chest. Suddenly, he feels calm and docile as a lamb. He sits on the floor exactly where he is.

“Hey,” Wymack snaps.

“Nicky, stow the powers, okay. You know most of us vollies aren’t empath-compatible,” Dan says.

“I’m sorry, I—“ Nicky’s eyes screw shut. Immediately Neil is in control of his body again, and he slides sideways, panting. “I wasn’t ready.”

“What did you do to me?” Neil demands. Somewhere above ground, thunder grumbles.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky says again. “It’s an instinct sometimes, I swear I can’t help it.”

“He gave you an emotional sedative,” Wymack says, crossing his arms. “Nicky can manipulate feelings.”

“But I don’t,” Nicky interrupts. “Usually. I didn’t expect it to feel like a war-zone in here all of a sudden.”

Neil stands, and starts to stalk threateningly towards Nicky, but a hand closes in his collar and lifts him clean off the ground.

“Let’s not escalate things,” Dan says, holding him easily aloft. “Nick, will you promise to turn off the charm when Neil’s around?”

Nicky puts his hands up in surrender. “Done and done.” Softer, he says, “It’s actually—nice to meet you Neil.” He smiles sheepishly, and Neil shakes his head in dull disbelief. A total stranger just took the full force of the storm at the centre of Neil’s consciousness, and he’s still smiling at him like he’s not a monster.

Dan sets Neil carefully back on his feet, and he shrugs out of her grip, putting several paces between himself and everyone else.

“I understand powers that happen without your consent,” Neil says slowly. “But if you mess with my emotions again I’m not responsible for what’ll come out of the sky.”

Wymack holds up a staying hand, moving between them. “Alright, alright, enough posturing for one day.”

Nicky looks flushed and upset, but as Neil watches, the air around his body shifts and undulates as a new wave of power is compressed inwards. His expression slackens, hazy. “It’s okay. I don’t intimidate easy.”

Neil blinks at him. “You can turn your powers on yourself?” he asks, putting his own discomfort on ice.

Nicky smiles. He seems to be following Neil’s mood at a distance, matching him beat for beat. Neil’s not sure if it’s a byproduct of his abilities or a true personality trait. “Sure. I can chill myself out if I can’t sleep, get pissed before a fight. I don’t do it very often though, it can get intense. Draining.”

“How do you know if what you’re feeling is real? How does anyone around you?”

Nicky’s smile twitches. Neil suspects he’s stepped on a nerve. “It’s not a memory thing. My power lets people know its been there. It’s why I can’t tell anyone to forgive me, or love me, or anything. They would know better.”

“Eh, I know better,” Dan says, walking close enough to rope Nicky in by the shoulders. “But I do it anyway.”

“Aw shucks,” Nicky says, clearly pleased. 

“And you’re—super strong?” Neil asks, eyeing Dan’s thick upper arms.

‘Something like that. I can nudge gravity where I want it.” She looks slyly at Wymack and he uncrosses his arms, taking a step backwards.

“Don’t do it.”

“Come on, not even for the new guy?”

“Dan,” Wymack warns.

“Alright, fine,” she says, hands up. She looks to Neil. “Just know in your heart that I can lift the boss with one finger.”

“It’s a real crowd-pleaser,” Nicky agrees, perching on one of the many data-projecting desks, capped with swirling, changing screens. “But what about you, Stormy Weather? What’s your story?”

He frowns. “I thought all of you knew everything.”

“We’ve seen the highlights reel,” Nicky says. “We don’t know you, though, not yet.”

Not ever, Neil thinks. He plans to treat this like a workplace that he clocks in and out of. After hours, he’ll stay warm and remote in a fog where no one can find him. It’s safer that way.

“I know him,” Andrew says, and Neil looks over to find him cross-legged at the centre of the conference table. The interior glow makes him look haunted, lit ungenerously from below. Andrew tosses a baseball-sized hailstone into the sleek stretch of floor in front of Neil. Preserved, somehow, from when Neil summoned it in the car. “He’s a storm chaser with an attitude problem.”

“Where the hell did you get that?” Dan asks. Then, pinching the bridge of her nose, “never mind, actually. The less I understand the monster, the better.”

“Excuse my cousin Andrew,” Nicky starts. Andrew looks away, apparently bored. “He thinks it’s funny to scare people shitless.”

“I don’t see him laughing,” Neil says tightly. 

“His sense of humour was dropped on its head as a child,” Nicky replies sadly.

“Okay, I’m calling it,” Wymack interrupts. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Neil. Whole lotta new faces today. You’ll meet Kevin, Renee, and Allison when they get back from mission.”

“When will that be?” Neil asks. He’s already paranoid that the shifter will appear to him without him knowing it.

Wymack shrugs. “When it’s done. In the meantime, I don’t want any more gratuitous powers in my base. No throwing shit, no lightning bolts, no—“ Andrew blinks across the room, perilously close to Neil’s side, jaw craned up to examine his face. Neil looks down instinctively, and finds Andrew’s eyes boring into his own. “No pausing me, Minyard, I’m dead serious. If I have to repeat instructions for you again it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“What was that?” Andrew asks, but Neil’s pretty sure he’s fucking with him, because Wymack just sighs.

“Get out of my sight, all of you.” They all start to disperse, Dan back into Wymack’s office, Nicky over to the doors that lead hall-ward, Andrew into thin air. Wymack catches Neil’s eye. “Get some sleep, okay? See Abby for pills if you need ‘em. We’ll get you something dry to wear.”

“Thank you,” Neil says stiffly.

“Don’t thank me yet. Tomorrow we see how you play with others, and that’s never pretty.”

“Is that a threat?” 

Wymack looks tiredly to the largest screen in the room, beyond the place where stats and mission details are spinning in space. “More of a promise, really.”

Neil follows his gaze to the focal point of the screen, where a hundred thousand tiny golden lights are scattered into a world map like beads. Supers, embroidered into the dark fabric of the world, punched into time by some celestial power source or trick of science that they'll never understand. 

All that running, all that wishing to disappear, and he was always just a dot on this map. There was never a reality where he was going to be able to hide forever. Not even in the eye of a hurricane. Not even in an underground bunker. And if he can’t conceal his powers, he might as well control them.

He looks back at Wymack, feeling like a season on the cusp of changing, a monsoon shaking itself dry. “Let’s get started.”

#I've been tinkering on this for years and for what!!! #my weather boy neil must finally see the light of day #the foxhole court #aftg #tfc fanfic #andreil #mine #if ppl want a second chapter speak now or forever hold your peace #anyway love you

[aristocratic-otter]

Howdy y'all!

It seems like I can only find the wherewithal to post on Sunday these days. Please don't stop tagging me for Wednesdays, though! I have hope that I'll build up the free time for it again!

Thanks to @prettygoododds, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @larkral, @wellbelesbian, @artsyunderstudy, @nightimedreamersghost, @rimeswithpurple, @shemakesmeforget, @whatevertheweather, @ileadacharmedlife, @facewithoutheart, @cutestkilla and @alexalexinii for tagging me over the last couple of weeks!

First things first, To Heal A Broken Mind is in the homestretch, y'all! It ought to be done in the next two weeks, and then goes to my beta, and then I finally get to share it with @yellobb-old and the rest of the world! Here's a bit of softness from the final chapter:

“I love you!” I blurt, and then squeak and hide my face in his shoulder. But he doesn’t let me hide, just chuckles and lifts my head up so I’m facing him again. . 

“I love you too,” he says solemnly, and I feel tears burn at the corner of my eyes. “But hold that thought. After tomorrow, say it to me again. And I’ll do the same. And we’ll start our new life…or, at least, my new life, with you in it. For good this time”

Westward Son is also on the downhill slide, both in the story and in the completion of it! I estimate that the final chapter will go up before November. Here's our crew getting to know a new friend:

Acorn knows where all sorts of forest gleanings may be had. He shows us berry bushes that still have ripe fruit, though chilled by the frost. He digs up squirrel hordes of acorns (his namesake, he chuckles), along with other nuts and seeds. And, while he is strictly a plant eater, he isn’t offended when we hunt the beasts of the forest. He even shows us the best places to set traps or string fishing lines. 

When I ask him if he’s bothered by us eating meat in his presence, he’s philosophical. “Should I grow angry at the puma or the wolf because they consume the beautiful deer and rabbits? Their needs are not mine, and so I am content with eating differently from humans, because I am not human.”

The next chapter of Saving Simon Snow is coming soon, lol (and so is Simon) (warning for smutty snippet below):

It’s harder than you’d think to roll your eyes and sneer in disgust when the love of your life is rocking in and out of you, and you feel so full that you’re certain you’ll burst. But I put in the work. 

“Consummated? You’re a moron, Snow,” I grumble, even as he steadily takes me apart. 

He laughs. “I feel like you should call me Simon when I’m fucking you,” he says, panting. 

“You’re a moron, Simon,” I repeat obediently. 

Here's a little bit of tension from Snow Fox (next chapter also up in a day or two!)

Gareth comes into view, his pistol now pressed to the back of Malcolm Grimm’s head. “I tied up the Lieutenant, Sir. Shall I give the rest of these blackguards the same treatment?”

Forgive me, Baz.

“As you please,” I tell Gareth, keeping my tone light. “And no need to be gentle.”

From my CORB, The Heart in The Well, Baz is in a spot of trouble.

A sharp pain in my skull, and I found myself facing a hobgoblin. He was holding me up by my hair. Hobgoblins are related to goblins, but their skin is more greenish-grey than green, and they’re far uglier. But they eat people, just like their prettier cousins. I wondered if I was about to be their next meal. 

I hoped they’d choke on me.

From what I am currently calling "Simon the TikTok Dancer" (which will absolutely not be its final name), try to guess who Simon's teacher is 😉

At least Snow’s obvious progress makes what I have to tell him tonight easier. I’ve been dreading it all day. San Diego State University starts up again on Monday, and so our dance season is over. I have to say good-bye to Snow, at least for the school year. 

I indulge myself in watching him dance, not eager to bring down the mood already. 

I can see spots where his control is rough, and areas where he needs more precision, but truly, he’s already beautiful to watch.

And finally, a little Simon and Baz bonding from Stars, Flowers, and Children:

Simon is bubbling over with excitement, and I can’t help being infected with his enthusiasm. The moment we reach the pond, he spins to face me with a wild grin and says, “We’ve found Blackbeard’s lagoon, Baz! His buried treasure must be nearby!” 

I stare at him. What on Earth is he on about?

Simon’s smile fades a little. When he speaks again, it’s in a softer, more coaxing tone. “Come on Baz. Haven’t you ever played a game of make believe?”

Is that what this is?  “I didn’t grow up around many other children,” I admit, stiffly. 

Simon’s expression softens into something that looks very much like pity. It’s intolerable. 

I'm actually posting well before midnight for once, so I'm going to tag generously. Welcome and join me if you'd like, friends!

@angelsfalling16, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @bloodiedpixie, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @captain-aralias, @cosmicalart, @confused-bi-queer, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @gekkoinapeartree, @giishu, @hushed-chorus, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ileadacharmedlife, @j-nipper-95, @jbrrring, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @messofthejess, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @palimpsessed, @sillyunicorn

#co/ws/awtwb #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #simon snow series #carry on through the ages #cotta 2021 #cotta 2023 #carry on reverse bang #oregon trail au #house au #blue lagoon au #american revolution au #canon divergence #forced marriage

[blarrghe]

The Hunter, the Snake, and the Fox

M | No Warnings Apply | M/M | Pavellan | Canon-Divergent

Summary:

When Magister Dorian Pavus' expedition meets unexpectedly with a clan of unhappy Dalish elves, First Taren Lavellan may be the unhappiest among them. Unhappier still to be put to the task of helping to see his quest through. This is the tale of how a fortnight in the forests of the Free Marches can change everything.

Notes:

This is a canon-divergent, enemies-to-lovers tragedy. I'm just gonna say that last bit once. Set in a canon-compliant Thedas where the Breach/Inquisition simply never happened. Other game-typical politics and prejudices are intact.

This is also a first for me in that this fic is already finished, and I will be updating weekly! Consistency! Wow!

Ch. 1/26: Master Pavus

Snippet:

The dawn rose misty. Soft brushes of pale white fog hung low in the air, painting the forest floor in a glittery dew. Rays of watery yellow echoed through the slats between trees in a faded memory of sunlight. It was quiet. The blue-grey soaked cushion of a cluttered forest floor insulated the small clearing where Dorian's company had made their camp. Only a few faint birds chirped, calling out desperate, lost calls in a farewell to summer. 

Dorian Pavus woke damp in his tent, cursing the chill.  

DAFF tage list: @warpedlegacy @rakshadow @rosella-writes @effelants @bluewren @breninarthur @ar-lath-ma-cully @dreadfutures @ir0n-angel @inquisimer @crackinglamb @theluckywizard @nirikeehan @oxygenforthewicked @exalted-dawn-drabbles @melisustheweee @agentkatie @delicatefade

#I'm finally posting ittttttttt #pavellan #my writing #my fic #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquisition fanfic #da:i #dorian pavus #dorian x lavellan #clan lavellan #enemies to lovers #canon divergent au #but also canon compliant ish? very much in the DA universe for a change #the hunter the snake and the fox #I'm so exciteedddddd

[phoenixyfriend]

Modern AU. We look at a relationship that has two very common elements:

Greying older man (seemingly late forties), attractive younger woman (mid-thirties, so not that big of a difference)

Wildly successful celebrity, seemingly trophy spouse

Except, of course, the version going on here is that the attractive younger woman is the wildly successful celebrity (she's an athlete initially, but her fame and money came from a transition into modeling, where her musculature and vitiligo were key elements to her popularity), and the seemingly normal trophy spouse is silver fox Rex who... well, he's an honorably discharged veteran who had a non-commissioned rank, but that's about it. He's also less than a decade older than her, but he aged a bit fast (military stress) and definitely looks like a silver fox instead of just Some Dude.

Every time someone refers to him as "Mister Fett," Ahsoka corrects them with Captain.

Basically they are tabloid fodder and in-universe tumblr is having constant hissing cat fights about who's taking advantage of whom, but they're just like. A chill married couple.

In this case, I imagine they technically met when she was a teenager, and he was just one of Anakin's friends, but then he left for the army, and she started her own career, and they didn't actually start dating until Ahsoka was in her mid/late-twenties (they ran into each other again at the twin's birthday party).

I want to push for a sliiiightly bigger age difference than I usually go for, since this is inspired by Rebels instead of TCW (I generally place Rex as either halfway between Anakin and Ahsoka, or on par with Anakin), and Rebels has them as... I think thirty-three and physically fifty-eight, respectively?

I don't want to go for a full on twenty-five year age difference based on Rebels, because that hits an entirely different set of narrative complications, but I think a solid nine year gap or so is fine. Rex being three years older than Anakin is probably reasonable.

(TBH I don't even mind having it be a slightly bigger age difference, but "he looks older than he is" has more potential for shenanigans. M. If one party was a legal adult before the other was born, it's a hard sell.)

#rexsoka #star wars #captain rex #ahsoka tano #the clone wars #sw rebels #modern au #phoenix posts #tbh my openness for fictional age gaps usually maxes out around twenty #If one party was a legal adult before the other was born it's a hard sell #not impossible... but not likely

[achaotichuman]

Acosad for the wip tag game

I WANT MORE 🔪🔪🔪

MY FAVOURITE FIC OF ALL THAT I HAVE WRITTEN OFC YOU MAY HAVE MORE

But the greatest thing in the entire room, the one that demanded the most attention, was the woman who lounged upon an emerald silk lounge. Draped in emeralds and gold, with her golden curls spilling down her shoulders and over her breasts. Wearing a silk green dress, with a tight bodice swirled with shimmering flowers and vines. When Nesta looked closer at the design, the recognised the flowers from Elain’s garden, all highly poisonous. 

Her black lipped mouth curled into a sinister grin. Eyes shining like deep forests. Pale skin glowing like the light of the moon. Belladonna Ashdown, mother of Morrigan Ashdown, took in Nesta Archeron, drinking in every stitch of fabric, shifting ever so slightly, Nesta became keenly aware of the white ribbon tied around her neck, with stains of dark red splattered across some part, the edges fraying as if it had been torn in half. 

It reminded Nesta of her Valkyrie ribbon. 

“Lovely Death,” Belladonna murmured, tasting the words like sweet wine on her tongue, “Please take a seat.”

Another snippet, cause I wanna rave about this

Tamlin flopped down beside the Fox. Placing his fiddle down gently on the grass beside him. 

They started to talk, but their voices became muffled. The edges of Elain’s vision started to darken. The sunny sky began to fade, turning a dark grey colour. The wind felt colder, and the air had a deep chill to it. 

A voice rang through the world, a cry that shattered the fantasy of pristine paradise. 

Don’t let anyone take what’s yours. 

Rivers ran red. The sky was blackened from smoke. Screaming and cries of agony filled the lands. 

Red hair was wet with blood, it dripped down his dark skin, his metal eye clicked furiously. A scream ripped from Lucien’s throat, a blood-curdling cry of despair and anguish. He was begging and pleading to anyone or anything that might hear him. 

And the fiddle player, the Spring Lord, Tamlin, was in his arms. Bloodied and bruised, his chest torn open and splayed out. Vines clambered up around his limbs, wrapped tightly around his skin, framing him in plant life that slowly began to shrivel away. Nesting in amongst the gore covered vines and flowering plants, was a stone carved to resemble a heart. 

#acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #tamcien #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #a court of song and desolation #acosad #acotar au #acotar headcanons #acotar fanfiction

[eruden-writes]

Halloween Drabble: Salty & Sweet (werewolf x gender neutral reader)

A sudden question leads to a bit of flirtation.

If you want to get early releases for my on-going stories or early access to the occasional drabble like this, check out my Patreon!

🍫🐺

“Can werewolves have chocolate?” The question came so suddenly as you munch on your own chocolate bar, you not only startle yourself, but the companion you’d been sharing the quiet with. They turn their almost-glowing brown-gold eyes to you.

Kellum sits at the picnic table with you, except he’s chosen to sit atop the table while you sit on the bench. Before your question, he sat hunched over his phone, elbows on his knees as the light flickered over his partially-morphed face. Now, as he stares at you, you realize you’ve rarely seen him in this phase of shifting.

Fur has begun sprouting along the sides of his face, his ears shifted from simply pointed to furry and tapered. The fur is the same shade as his hair, with interspersed flecks of grey. A ‘silver fox’ that was in all reality a wolf, you mused once. His nose has darkened and flattened, taking on the appearance of a snoot than a nose. His lips are the same dark shade and, a little shamefully, you wonder if their texture is somehow different.

When you first saw his outfit - a plaid button-up over a white tank-top and worn blue jeans - you had teased him about being a timberwolf lumberjack. Now, you’re regretting the joke, realizing how the plaid and tee-shirt highlights his muscular-chubby dad-bod, and how the rolled-up sleeves bring your attention to his forearms. Which are also partially morphed, the tan skin fading to a grey-black-brown fur with elongated fingers tipped in dangerous looking claws.

The two of you are taking a break from your shift at the haunted house, run by his college-aged kid and their friends. Gerard, Kellum’s son, actually asked for your help with the haunted endeavor ages ago and, without thinking, you agreed.

You hadn’t realized Kellum would also be helping out. In retrospect, you really should have expected it. The poor guy was having hardcore “empty nester” syndrome with Gerard off living it up at college. You’d born witness to it on a number of occasions, since you were his next door neighbor. Of course, Kellum volunteered to act in a haunted house and spend time with his son.

Embarrassed, you glance at his ear - locking your gaze to the glow-in-the-dark gauge there - to avoid eye contact. “I mean, dogs can’t. Not sure about wolves, but I imagine they can’t either. So can werewolves?”

In an effort to stave off further embarrassment and babbling, you shrug and break off another piece of your chocolate bar, shoving it in your mouth.

“I don’t know,” Kellum finally answers, a thoughtful timbre to his tone.

You rack your brain for any memory of him having chocolate in your presence, but come up empty. “How do you not know?”

It seems damn near impossible for the man to have gone his whole life without eating chocolate. But he shrugs again, before leaning over to pocket his phone in his jeans. You think you sense the slightest grin on his lips. Suspicion crawls over your skin, but you ignore it, telling yourself it’s the chill in the air.

“Should we test it out?” He asks, and you catch the sight of his tail flicking back and forth on the table.

At first, you’re not sure. What if it really makes him sick? Or agitates his system? Weren’t chocolate allergies often deadly?

But Kellum isn’t a spontaneous risky sort. He was a single father for fifteen years, for cripes’ sakes. He wouldn’t put his life in danger over testing a silly hypothesis. Likely, even if he did suffer adverse reactions, it’d be minimal, right?

He waits patiently as you mentally struggle, amusement curling at his lips. Eventually, you settle on a decision. Kellum is a grown-ass man, capable of saying no and understanding risks. And if anything really bad happens, you have your phone at the ready. “Okay, but let’s go small, just in cas-”

Your words are swallowed up by Kellum’s mouth, pressed suddenly to your lips. He moved so fast, your heart barely had time to beat between your words and the kiss. Heat claws up your face and you jerk, only to realize a clawed hand cradles the back of your head. His free hand grasps your shoulder, claws pricking into the fabric of your shirt. You gasp against his lips, which only seems to make the corners of his lips curve upward.

Then his tongue, thick and wet, slips into your mouth. Without thinking, you part your lips a little wider, angling your head as the kiss deepens. He is everywhere in your mouth. Tasting your tongue and your teeth, encouraging your own tentative exploration of his maw and teeth. 

Your eyes flutter shut, the woodsy scent of Kellum’s cologne enveloping you as he leans closer. His body heat sinks into you, warming the chillier parts of you and stoking a warmth deep inside you. Your hands slip to his upper arms, grasping the fabric bunched at his elbow. 

As quickly as it began, the kiss ends. Kellum pulls away, leaving you frazzled and - honestly - feeling a bit sloppy. You brush the back of your hand against your lower lip, swiping away any wayward drool, as you level a glare at the man.

Kellum ignores your irritated look, smacking his chops and humming in consideration. “No, I don’t think I-”

Suddenly, his eyes fly wide, a choked sound leaving his throat as his body stiffens. Even a slight tremor flickers through his body. Your eyes fly wide, terror gripping at your chest as you watch him list forward, toppling completely over before his back hits the ground.

“Kellum!” You shriek, trembling hands shooting for your phone. You stumble down from the picnic table, trying to find any sign - foaming at the mouth or gurgling - as further symptoms. In your head, you’re already rehearsing what you’re going to say as you dial the emergency services.

You freeze as Kellum’s eyes crack open, a wolfish smile tilting his lips. Embarrassed and angry, heat rises in your cheeks just as you realize his tail is wagging, thumping against the ground.

“Oh no, I must be allergic,” he chuckles sarcastically, propping himself up on his elbows. His furry brows raise, a devilish expression crossing his features. “You might have to give me mouth-to-mouth.”

You only barely resisted the urge to thump Kellum on the chest before standing. Fueled by rage and mortification, you’re already stumbling backward. With an accusatory finger, you jab it in Kellum’s direction. “That is not funny!”

Turning your back on him, you begin charging back toward the haunted house, trying to ignore how fast your heart is throbbing in your chest. It feels like your cheeks are going to burn off, with how hot the flush across your cheeks feels. Your brain tries to make sense of why Kellum pulled such a stunt. But wasn’t that what Halloween was about? It wasn’t simply about treats, but also the tricks.

As angry as you are, you can’t help being a little amused. And that just makes you angrier.

Behind you, you hear Kellum getting to their feet and laughing as he tails after you, “Aw, why so salty?”

Something in Kellum’s tone makes you freeze. That particular resonance when a dad is about to lay on a dad joke. A realization prickles through your thoughts. Turning around to face him, you narrow your eyes and point a finger in his face again. “You better not say what I think you’re going to say.”

His toothy grin only widens at your words, showing off his sharp canines. In that instant, your stomach drops, but the heat at your center churns wildly.

“Lucky for you,” Kellum’s eyes positively glow as he scoops you up in his arms, holding you against his warm chest. The fact he just picked you up leaves you a little dumbfounded. Instinct kicks in as your brain fritzes out and  you struggle and squirm. As he teasingly growls, the echoes vibrating through his chest, you freeze. “I like my treats salty and sweet.”

#exophilia #exo writing #halloween #werewolf #werewolves #lycan #monster x human #monster dad #werewolf x human #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #werewolf x reader #2nd person pov #reader #kellum #Salty & Sweet #I should really do some drabbles between long or arduous chapters #but I face the problem of always adding on #and making a whole THING of it #because that is just how I am

[courtonfire]

Foxxian + Dragonji bookstore/cafe, friends to lovers AU 🥰☕️📖

Lan Wangji's tail swishes with anticipation as he watches the door from behind the register.

Any minute now, his cozy, peaceful cafe/bookstore will be filled with all the chaos a Hulijing has to offer. His heart dance

The customers have long since been chased away by the small snowstorm outside, leaving the cafe in comfortable silence.

In the center of the room, surrounded by large chairs, a fire crackles eagerly, offering its heat and warm, flickering light to the space. Outside, snow drifts lazily to the ground. For now, it lays pristine and undisturbed, but it's nearly 7pm, which means any second now --

Bright laughter floats in from outside, as though carried in by a wayward snowflake. Lan Wangji sits up straighter. Its source bounces into view of the large windows a second later. Lan Wangji watches fondly as the hulijing kicks up the snow and attempts to catch falling flakes in his mouth.

The top of his head is covered by a bright red beanie, with space for his blackish-grey ears to stick out. What is visible of his long, raven hair is speckled with white spots of snow, as are the nine bushy tails behind him. The rest of him is covered by a large, black cloak with a gold pattern stitched onto it. Jyl must have gifted it to him for his birthday a few weeks ago, Lan Wangji guesses. It's a nice replacement for the ratty, faded red coat he used to wear.

As though sensing Lan Wangji's insult to his former favorite jacket, the Hulijing abruptly spins around to look through the window. Silver eyes lock onto him immediately and a wide smile stretches across the fox spirit's face, sharp fangs visible. He quickly bounds to the door, still kicking up as much snow as possible as he goes. 

"Lan Zhan!!" He cries, pushing the door open. Lan Wangji isn't sure if Wei Wuxian's presence or the cold air fills the space faster, but they each slam into him with great force.

"Wei Ying." The corners of his lips tick up in a soft smile. Wei Wuxian's gaze softens ever so softly. He skips over and rests his elbows on the counter, leaning into Lan Wangji's space, the way he always does. It once irritated Lan Wangji beyond all reason, but now it feels like a relief. Like the warm sun has finally decided to kiss his chilled skin.

"What do you have for me today?" Wei Wuxian asks with an eager grin.

"Due to the weather, the special today was a hot chocolate with..." Lan Wangji intentionally trails off. It has the intended effect.

Wei Wuxian's eyes sparkle with interest. He leans a little closer.

"Oh? Is there something more?"

"Mn. Chili peppers."

Wei Wuxian gasps dramatically and reels back, out of Lan Wangji's space. It doesn't feel like a loss in the face of such clear delight.

"Chili peppers?! No way!?"

"Yes way," Lan Wangji answers mildly. Wei Wuxian tilts his head back in a laugh. "Lan Zhan, you are too much!" He declares, ears twitching happily. "I'll take one of those!"

Lan Wangji nods and sets off to make it, intentionally not charging him, as always. And as always, Wei Wuxian stuffs far too much money in the tip jar when he thinks Lan Wangji isn't looking. They fall into a comfortable silence as Lan Wangji makes the drink. Wei Wuxian browses the new arrivals section absentmindedly. When he finds one that intrigues him, he carefully tugs it out and flips through it.

"Hey, Lan Zhan," he calls just as Lan Wangji is squirting an unreasonable amount of whipped cream onto his drink, the way he knows Wei Wuxian likes. As an afterthought, he sprinkles an extra dusting of chili powder as well.

"How long do you think I've been a regular here now?"

Lan Wangji sets the drink on the counter and considers it. "Hm. Around eight months, I believe."

Eight lovely, wonderful, warm months of Wei Wuxian visiting him every evening at 7, no matter the weather or the kind of day he's had.

"Eight months? Wow," Wei Wuxian shakes his head in disbelief. He slides the book back onto the shelf and returns to the counter. He pulls the warm mug into his hands but doesn't drink from it yet.

"And..." He hesitates. Concerned curiosity teases Lan Wangji's mind. Wei Wuxian very rarely hesitates unless he's talking about something especially serious. "Do you think... um, do you think we're friends?"

Lan Wangji blinks. That was not the question he was expecting.

"Yes, of course," he answers immediately. The tension drains from Wei Wuxian's shoulder and he offers him a relieved smile.

"Okay, good. I think so too, but I wasn't sure..."

"You weren't sure I felt the same," Lan Wangji finishes for him, heart twisting painfully in his chest. "Wei Ying, I look forward to your visits every day. Getting to know you has brought me great joy over the past several months."

As he speaks, Wei Wuxian's eyes grow wider, a bright flush rising high on his cheeks. "I hope to keep you in my life for many years to come."

Wei Wuxian squeaks and lifts the mug to hide his face. "Lan Zhaaaaan," He whines, ears flat against his head. "You can't just say things like that! My heart can't take it! Are you trying to kill me?!"

Lan Wangji huffs and moves to wipe down the tools he used for the drink.

"Of course not. That would contradict my previous statement."

"Well, how am I supposed to know when you say things like that?" Wei Wuxian lowers the drink to pout at him. "It sounds genuine on the surface, but I really almost had a heart attack, er-gege! How do I know that wasn't your intention all along?!"

Lan Wangji peers at him from the corner of his eye, intentionally letting it glow a little.

"You don't," he says darkly. It gets the desired reaction.

Wei Wuxian's jaw drops in horror, but his eyes shine with glee, tails flicking happily behind him. "I knew it!" He gasps. "This has been your plan all along hasn't it?!"

Lan Wangji curls his tail around his own leg and looks away. "Maybe. Maybe not."

A wide, toothy grin cracks Wei Wuxian's mock scared expression. "Well, I've got my eye on you now, er-gege! You won't be able to take me out so easily!"

"We'll see."

Wei Wuxian laughs and finally brings the hot chocolate to his mouth. The second the liquid hits his tongue, his eyes roll back in an exaggerated moan. The pointed tips of Lan Wangji's ears burn. He hurries to cover them with his hair before Wei Wuxian notices.

"Mmmm this is so good, Lan Zhan!" He cries. "Definitely the best I've ever tasted. You may not be able to top this, honestly."

Lan Wangji preens at the high praise. "I will try my best," he promises.

Wei Wuxian grins at him. On his nose is a small dollop of whip cream. Lan Zhan leans back and tightly grips the counter behind him to prevent himself from leaning forward to kiss it off. They fall back into silence, occasionally broken by Wei Wuxian's quiet sounds of enjoyment and words of praise.

When he finishes the beverage, he leans back with a satisfied sigh, rubbing his belly happily.

"So good," he mumbles, eyes half-lidded. The combination does unspeakable things to Lan Wangji's self-control, so he busies himself with emptying the pastry cabinet in preparation for tomorrow.

Wei Wuxian watches him quietly, tails swishing lazily. When Lan Wangji absentmindedly slides him a leftover lotus cake he knows he likes, his expression turns thoughtful.

"Say, Lan Zhan," he starts, leaning forward to rest his head on his hand.

Lan Wangji hums, not looking up from his task.

"Do you happen to have any relationship advice books?"

Lan Wangji pauses.

"...Relationship advice books?"

"Mhm," Wei Wuxian confirms, watching him closely. "See, there's someone I want to woo, but I'm not sure how to go about it. I feel like I've tried everything, but nothing seems to work."

At this, his bottom lip juts out in a pout, ears drooping sadly. Lan Wangji hardly notices. A loud buzzing fills his ears, dulling his senses. He feels like a movie character in a scene where a bomb has gone off nearby. Stumbling around, shaken and confused, trying to figure out what happened. There's an empty spot where a large structure used to be and a new reality needs to be processed.

Wei Wuxian has someone he wants to woo -- someone he wants a relationship with. "And since I happen to have a friend with a cafe slash bookstore," Wei Wuxian is saying, oblivious to his plight. "I thought maybe he'd have something to help me out."

And he wants Lan Wangji's help to do it. A growl builds in his chest at the thought of helping put Wei Wuxian in another person’s arms. He forces it down, along with all the other unreasonable feelings of jealousy and bitter disappointment. No matter how bad Lan Wangji wants him to, Wei Wuxian does not belong to him. Nor does he owe him anything.

Lan Wangji developed these feelings by himself. They are his own problem. Wei Wuxian is under no obligation to return or take responsibility for them.

He is coming to Lan Wangji as a friend. And so a friend he will be.

"The self-help section is the case closest to the window. Relationship advice books are on the second shelf."

Wei Wuxian chirps his thanks and skips to the indicated location. As he browses his tongue pokes out between his teeth.

He looks so pretty like this, curious and determined. Lan Wangji wants to carry him up to his apartment upstairs and hide him from whoever is trying to steal him away. The pastry plate in his hands almost shatters from his tight grip. He rips his eyes away and still his tail that had begun flicking angrily across the floor.

It is time to do the dishes, he decides. In the back, where Wei Wuxian is well out of sight. Perhaps the sound of the rushing water will drown out his shameful thoughts.

---

"Lan Zhaaan," Wei Wuxian singsongs when Lan Wangji shuts the water off. "Come help!"

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath to brace himself, then steps back to the front. Doing the dishes did indeed help him calm down a bit. Which is good because he has a feeling things are about to get a lot worse. 

Wei Wuxian fixes him with a teasing grin when he comes into view.

"Er-gege, isn't it poor business practice to leave your favorite customer all alone?"

"I did not leave my favorite customer alone. Just a regular one," Lan Wangji deadpans.

Wei Wuxian sputters. "You --! You are so mean!"

"No one believes me when I say you're the meanest person around, yet the proof is right here!"

Lan Wangji raises a brow. "No one believes that?"

Wei Wuxian deflates a little. "Yeah, okay, everyone believes that one -- but they shouldn't!"

A swirl of happiness curls in his gut. If Wei Wuxian ever thought him mean or cold and unapproachable, he did so with gleeful amusement. A rare person who appreciates a rose's thorns, even when they prick his finger. 

"But still!" Wei Wuxian cries. "You're not closed yet. What if someone came in?! I called for you so many times, but you didn't answer! I would have had to make that hot chocolate myself!"

Lan Wangji shudders at the thought of anyone tasting something Wei Wuxian made with easy access to spice. "Exactly! Very irresponsible of you, er-gege," he scolds.

Lan Wangji doesn't roll his eyes, but it's a close call.

"There is a storm and I close in 15 minutes. It is unlikely someone would come in."

"You called for my help?" he reminds. "Ah, yes!" Wei Wuxian jerks upright and slides a book towards him.

'How to Get the Man of Your Dreams in 5 Simple Steps' the title reads.

The urge to burn it is so strong tendrils of smoke slip out of Lan Wangji's nose. Luckily, Wei Wuxian is too busy flipping to the table of contents to notice. "Okay, so I'm gonna read out this person's ideas one by one, and you tell me if you think they would work on you."

Lan Wangji pauses. "On me?"

Wei Wuxian hums an affirmative. His ears twitch like he's nervous, but Lan Wangji doesn't know why he would be. "Yeah, I mean, you've gotta be one the toughest nuts to crack in the whole world," he laughs, the sound a bit pitchier than normal. "So if it works on you, then it could work on anyone, right?"

"Perhaps," Lan Wangji agrees slowly. "But everyone is different."

And much less biased than he is, he doesn't say. Anything Wei Wuxian does works on him, even breathing.

"Not that different or chumps like this would never sell anything! So just listen, okay?"

"Mn."

"Alright, the first one is easy. Make eye contact."

Lan Wangji's brows scrunch. How does that count as a first step? He tries to look at the book, but Wei Wuxian sweeps it out of sight.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Wei Wuxian chides. "Don't look away. You gotta try it to know if it'll work, okay?"

Lan Wangji hesitates. "I thought you were just going to say them?"

"I will say them," Wei Wuxian confirms. "But how will you know it'll really work if you don't try it?"

That is... somewhat true. But still, this seems a bit odd.

"Just trust me, okay Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian looks at him with pleading eyes.

"...Mn," Lan Wangji agrees. When their eyes finally lock, Lan Wangji can suddenly no longer recall why he felt uncertain. Satisfaction swirls in those silver eyes, drawing him in like a siren's song. He's always known how beautiful they are, but never how dynamic. Every shade of grey seems to be hidden in their depths. Lan Wangji thinks he could spend hours cataloging each fleck. Maybe he could even publish the results.

"Good boy," Wei Wuxian murmurs. "Is this working for you?"

"..Mn," Lan Wangji croaks.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian says breathily. "Okay, that's good."

"All these steps need to be combined, so don't look away."

"I won't." He couldn't, even if he wanted to. Wei Wuxian has had him completely enthralled from the moment he first stepped through the door all those months ago.

"The second step says to hold their hand." Lan Wangji reaches out his hand with no hesitation. Half a beat later, warm fingers lace between his and squeeze. Oxygen shakes and rattles its way out of Lan Wangji's lungs. He squeezes back.

There's something in Wei Wuxian's eyes that Lan Wangji can't quite place. But it fills him with tentative hope. "This doing anything?"

Lan Wangji nods slowly, like honey dripping from a spoon. "Mn."

"Good," Wei Wuxian murmurs. "Third step is to smile."

A soft smile stretches across his lips, as easy as breathing. Lan Wangji has seen a lot of Wei Wuxian's smiles. Each one has a special place in his mind and in his heart, but this one may be his favorite.

"This one also works," he concludes without prompting.

Wei Wuxian chuckles and squeezes his hand again.

"I'm glad. Three out of five so far isn't bad. Maybe this book isn't total garbage."

"It does not seem to be," Lan Wangji agrees. "Fourth step?"

Wei Wuxian inhales shakily and nods. "Fourth step is to tell them what you like about them."

An emotion fleets across his face, but it hardens into determination before Lan Wangji can read it. 

"Lan Zhan, you are one of the kindest men I have ever met. It is one of the world's greatest atrocities that some people are too dense and self-absorbed to see how smart, wonderful, funny, and thoughtful you are. I hate to think of what my life would look like without you in it,” he pauses to take a deep breath, then continues. 

“If that's too broad, then I also like the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about the latest piece you learned on the guqin or a cute rabbit picture you saw earlier. I love how you challenge me, but never in a way that makes me less. And, in the beginning, it fascinated me how someone who seemed so cold could design a space as warm and inviting as your cafe is. I didn't believe you did it yourself for weeks, Lan Zhan!" His laughter fades into a fond smile. "But that was just because I didn't know you yet. Now I can see how it perfectly reflects you."

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji gasps. It's a miracle Wei Wuxian's bones haven't been crushed from how tightly Lan Wangji is gripping his hand. He should lighten his hold, but his muscles refuse to comply. "Wei Ying I --"

"Step 5," Wei Wuxian stops him. The words sound as though they're stumbling out of him, like if he stops now, they may never be heard. "Is to confess your feelings and hope to the heavens that they're returned because you have no idea what you'll do if they're not."

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and allows his eyes to slip closed. Silence blankets the room. Lan Wangji watches him closely, his breath frozen in his lungs.

It seems Lan Wangji was wrong. The spell he's been under was not caused by those gorgeous silver orbs, but by Wei Wuxian's mere existence. Wei Wuxian visibly steels himself and when his eyes open, they pierce straight into Lan Wangji's soul.

"I love you, Lan Zhan. You're the best person I have ever known and I've been in love with you for a long time now. And, if you'll allow it, I'm sure I will be for the rest of my life."

It takes half a second for Lan Wangji to lunge over the counter and pull him into a searing kiss.

Another half second for Wei Wuxian to overcome his surprise and enthusiastically throw himself into it. Five minutes for Lan Wangji to flip the store sign to close and tug Wei Wuxian towards the stairs, their lips never parting.

10 minutes to realize he never responded and fervently whisper "I love you, I love you, I love you. Best person I've ever known. I'll love you for the rest of my life."

2 hours for them to slow down enough to actually talk things through. What they mean to each other, what they want to be, and for how long they've wanted to be it.

1 month for Lan Wangji to buy a ring and ask Wei Wuxian to marry him.

And less than a second after that for Wei Wuxian to say yes.

♥️The end♥️

I loved writing this and I hope you all enjoyed it! I wrote it for @fae-hulijing‘s birthday a couple weeks ago and loved the thought of moving it on here! It may be one of my favorite fics I’ve written!

#wangxian #mo dao su zhi #mdzs #the untamed #fanfic #cocowrites #dragonji #foxxian #coffee shop au #bookstore au #friends to lovers

[dailydarcycarden]

D'Arcy Carden's 'I don't think so, Honey.'

"I don't think so honey that one. fucking. neighbor. DO YOU KNOOOW WHAT I MEAN?? OOOOH honey I don't think you need to ever speak to me EVERRRR literally EVER if you wanna say hi that's ok That's. ✨️THE MOST✨️ I don't need you to Ever Ever Ever comment on my clothes honey if I am wearing yoga pants I don't wanna tell you if I'm going to work out or if I'm just ✨️BEING CHILL AS FUCK✨️ IT IS NOOOT YOUR BUSINESS HONEY ✨️THANK YOU SO MUCH✨️ THOUGH. I don't need you to tell me that you don't like the David Bowie shirt I'm wearing because GUESS WHAT HONEY ✨️HE DIED✨️ A MONTH LATER AND THAT'S ON YOUR HEAD HONEY I'M SOOOOO SORRY HONEY ✨️THANK YOU SOO MUCH✨️ and your little fucking LICENSE PLATE? with the FOX Century 21 whatever ✨️THE FUCK✨️ it is GUESS WHAT this is L.A. HONEY. WE ✨️ALLLLLLL✨️ WORK AT FOX HONEY THANK YOU SOOO MUCH. I NEED YOU TO ✨️NEVER✨️ literally Never look me in the eye I don't wanna talk to you if I talk to another OLD. FAT. GREY WHITE MAN I AM GOING TO FUCKING ✨️KILL✨️"

D'Arcy ✨️ThankyouSOMUCH✨️ Carden

#las culturistas #d’arcy carden #darcy carden #a league of their own #the good place

[leggerefiore]

Folklore

cw: fox god au, modern Volo, poly (Ingo/Reader) (Emmet/Reader), mostly implied, long, a bit of horror but not really,

Pairing: Ingo/Reader, Emmet/Reader

It was a brisk autumn when the leaves faded from their vibrant greens into their calming earth tones when you came to the rural mountain village. Those around the location often called it the fox village. This was believed to be in reference to their two Zoroark gods. Your friend Volo from university who was studying religion and folklore found himself deeply intrigued with the place. It was him who had brought you there. The train ride over was silent as the blond read through his notes about the place.

“There's a dark past there, you know,” he told you, “Rumours that the entire village is full of Zoroarks that hate humans.” You yawned and gazed out the window. It was a beautiful day outside, yet when you would arrive at your destination, the sun was sure to begin to set. Volo had found an old inn for you to stay in the actual village, so you could not even enjoy the city nearby. Why had even invited you? He usually preferred to do these things alone. Maybe he was lonely. His lack of friends was something that was easily observed, but you wondered if it was just that. “And yet, we're staying there?” you replied, pulling out your phone.

“Less time wasted travelling to and from the village,” he spoke while scribbling something into his notes, “It's a pretty location. There is supposed to be a festival while we're staying, too. Apparently, they don't let people leave and enter the village during that time.” You sighed. Superstition rears its ugly, annoying head again. Well, it would be good for Volo's research, but annoying for you. Hopefully, there was good signal there, so you could spend most of the time on your phone if it got down to it.

~

Following closely behind Volo, you listened as leaves crunched under your feet. The city was a quick pit stop before you gathered your bags to continue on foot to the village. Few cars travelled there, and neither of you could drive anyway. Suddenly, the blond stopped, and you bumped into him. A large gate stood as entrance to the village, with a two statues nearby in front. Two Zoroark figures with opposing facial expressions. Volo examined them with heightened interest. He tilted his head while holding on to his backpacks straps. “Creepy, is it not?” his grey eye darted to gaze at you, “This one is apparently representative of the god that handles vengeance. Apparently, when humans would enter this village in ancient times, he would appear and devour them in a grotesque manner.”

You swallowed, “Quit trying to creep me out, Volo. It's terribly rude.” He admittedly laughed a little. Standing up straight, he began to cross under the gate. Stopping again, he turned his head to look at you again. “Come along,” Volo teased, “I'm not dead yet, so maybe I'm not much of a meal alone for him.” How did he have such a well-connected family? You followed behind him once more. As you entered the main district of the village, you felt like you had been transported through time. A certain smell of rain hung in the air despite the clear skies. Few people lingered on the streets at this time of day, it seemed. Most had likely already gone home to their families in a place like this. You doubted there is much to do here after dark.

“You should wear some traditional robes,” you joked to break the uncomfortable silence, “Do you think Cynthia would let you borrow hers? You could play her twin, you know.” He scoffed at the mention of his cousin. The two of you passed by a long set of stairs. They were long, but at the top you spotted a familiar gate. “Is that a shrine?” you asked. He nodded, but made no move to stop and observe something that should obviously be more important to him. Instead, he continued on his path to your arrangements. You continue after him once again, feeling an uncomfortable chill run down your spine when you stood still too long.

Was someone watching you?

Probably, you were an outsider in a mostly unknown village.

You shrugged off the feeling and hoped you could take a nice, hot bath after the long walk here.

While you realised this place was certainly not the worst and that Volo was likely left with little choice, you felt a sigh escaped you at the room you got stuck in. It should have been obvious everything would be a bit dated and traditional. The old lady at the front desk had smiled at you both kindly and showed the way to your rooms, but you still felt uneasy. Unconsciously, you grasped Volo's jacket. If he noticed, he did not speak about it. You were sharing a room, so you felt relief at the knowledge you were not going to be left alone here. The old woman also informed you both that there was a bath here for guests.

The door was shut behind her and locked by Volo. Finally, you both dropped your bags into your room while kicking off your shoes. You sought to plug in your phone, having drained the battery during your trip here. Volo brought out his laptop and the table in the room. You sighed as you spotted the entertainment in your room, a television you were fairly certain was older than yours and Volo's age combined. He sat down to mess around on his computer while you laid out on the matted floor. Everything about this place held a distant nostalgia for a childhood you did not have. Your eyes closed when a pitter-patter of rain echoed outside.

“Say, Volo,” you wondered aloud, “Why did you not want to see that shrine?”

“Check-in,” he replied, “I'm going there tomorrow.” You nodded. That made sense. “You should head down for a bath,” Volo told you with a strange kindness that was foreign from him, “You look exhausted. If you pass out, I don't want to have to call your family.” Ah, there it was. You could laugh. Standing up, you headed out for a bath. It could clear your mind from the cloudiness that flooded your brain.

~

You had a strange dream that night, you felt certain.

Though, as you sat up from your futon, the memory was gone from your mind. Volo was already up when you awoke from your sleep. A piping hot cup of tea steamed beside him as he tapped away at his laptop. His hair was down from its usual bun. His eye moved to gaze at you, with an annoyed sigh leaving him. “You spent last night crying,” the blond complained, “Loudly, might I add? I tried waking you up, but I could not. Are you alright?” You were confused. Crying? Was your dream sad? Pulling back the warm cover, you got up. “I feel fine,” you replied, sitting down at the table across from him, “Sorry about that. I think it's just stress from being in a new location.” He shrugged.

“Well, that does not matter. It is nearly nine already, so I'm planning to head out to the shrine,” Volo told you. It was a silent question. You were barely awake, and he wanted to drag you off to a shrine with him. “I'll tag along, I guess.” He nodded silently before taking a sip of his tea.

The rain from the previous night left the scenery with a certain watery glow that caught your attention wonderfully. More people were out in the morning, housewives on strolls and an elderly couple on a quiet excursion. You and Volo stood out like sore thumbs. Even more so when you both began to ascend the stairs to the shrine. You pondered if you should pray to the gods out of politeness. Did you have any money as an offering? The shrine came into sight as you finished walking up the stairs. A single silver-haired woman swept around. Her eyes perked up at the sight of you two.

Two out-of-town people would be exciting to everyone, you felt. She walked over to you both with a big grin on her face. “Are you the one that called about a tour?” she beamed at Volo, “You brought a friend! Hello, hello!” A polite greeting was given, to which you both imitated. “Hmm, I think I heard two other people were wanting a tour, too?” She looked around. Her long strands were tidied away neatly, while the robes on her body gave her an elegant look. Despite her youthful appearance, something about her was strangely older than her looks. “Oh, there they are!” She called out and waved over two people walking about the stairs. Volo and you both turned to see who it was. Two identical men walked side-by-side. Their hair was the same colour as the girl's own. Were they related?

Actually, now that you were thinking on it, that hair colour appeared to be very common to the area. Many of the housewives you had passed on your way here also possessed it. “Are they relatives of yours?” Volo asked with a controlled tone. The girl nodded. “Heehee, they're my cousins from out of town,” she explained, “Everyone whose family is from here makes a trip to the village once in their lives to meet our gods. Lord Nobori is extremely fond of children, and most people from here are said to be related to them. It's like visiting a grandpa.” Volo nodded his head and took at his notebook to write the information she had just shared. The two made it to the top of the stairs. One wore a black sweater while the other wore a grey sweater shirt. They really did look alike.

“Hi!” the one in grey chirped, “What brings you here?” His eyes bore into you, completely ignoring Volo's presence. You gazed around in a bit of discomfort. What did you say? That you were boredly following around your friend while he did research into their village for a report? “Uh, curiosity? My friend is super interested in things like this, and I keep him company,” you told him. He nodded. His presumed brother spoke with the shrine caretaker for a moment. “Hmm, that's nice of you. I am Emmet,” he grinned brightly and stood a bit too close for comfort. Volo finally finished his writings and noticed the closeness of the newcomer with a slight scrutiny. “… Nice to meet you,” he stood tall, on par with the silver-haired man who just tilted his head. Did he think that little of Volo? It was a bit funny with the attention he normally drew to himself.

The tour soon stared after the caretaker, Anita, finished her chat with the other twin. It was not such a large place, so much as the history present at the location. In terms of shrine, you would say it was quite average for a village like this. Volo scribbled away in his notes for nearly the entire time while she explained the past of the place. You felt uncomfortable after she stopped in front of a lone tree. Her eyes gazed up at it as she explained that it was planted for the lost mate of gods. “The death was a mournful moment in the village, outsiders were forbidden entry,” she closed her eyes, “Our gods were beyond enraged. Lord Kudari would tear many trespassers asunder.”

You stiffened. Volo's words from the previous day suddenly in your mind. Zoroarks who hate humans. In your distress, you failed to notice the group leaving you. Anita happily showing the rest of the shrine. “… I wouldn't think too hard on that,” a deep voice spoke to you. Opening your eyes, the other twin remained with you. Light beamed through the leaves to give him an ethereal quality for a moment. “The gods have become more welcoming in recent years, apparently,” he told you, “… Where are my manners? It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Ingo.” You felt at ease from his words. Ingo… That was an odd name, was it not? Relaxing a bit, you let the twin guide you to where the others had gone off to.

Well, that was until a sudden yip echoed out. Fast steps came running in front of you until a wide-eyed Zorua tackled your legs. Their tails swished back and forth excitedly. Ingo seemed shocked by its sudden appearance. You laughed. “… I guess this really is a fox village, huh?” you reached down to pet the giddy kit. A few happy noises were given at the simple affection. Ingo smiled at the scene. You picked up the Zorua and looked around. “She lives nearby, I'm certain,” Ingo told you, while moving a bit closer, “You're correct with your words. There is a tradition of keeping Zorua and Zoroark as pets to honour the gods.” You giggled at a few licks from the kit. Putting her down, you bid farewell to her and continued toward the rest of the group. Ingo did not follow after you, however. He hung around with the kit for a moment.

You assumed he was looking for her owner.

~

You and Volo sat in the small booth of the diner. He had only ordered a coffee as he reread his notes for what must have been the hundredth time. Was he attempting to memorise it? You had no clue. The worn plush seating squeaked as you shifted. The tour was mostly over after you had returned to them. Anita attempted to get you to stay a bit longer, but you managed to think of some excuse. It was an awkward moment, especially when Emmet reminded her that she had some duties to return to. Were they really from out of town? Both felt like they knew too much about the village to have actually been from elsewhere. Your utensil clinked against the porcelain plate as you finally let a question escape your mind.

“What made you choose this place, anyway?” you asked, “Your family lives basically on a shrine. Why not on him?” His family attended to some local deity to the city, but he instead chose this one that was completely far off. He placed his notebook down at last to glare at you. “Don't you think everyone else will write about him, too? I felt this was a much more interesting topic,” Volo explained, “Besides, I'm apparently set to inherit a caretaker status according to lady Cogita. If I have to spend the rest of my days there, should I not enjoy my youth elsewhere?” Not that he was being illogical, but you just wished it could have been at home. Something about the idea that this village has a bloody history with outsiders left you uncomfortable.

You watched a few people stroll past your table. Teenage girls still in their school uniforms chatting idly. Their hair was a bright silver. “… Isn't weird that everyone has silver hair here?” you pondered. He gazed around. “Not really, when you consider that everyone is apparently related to the gods here in one way or another,” was his reply. Something about that sat distressingly with you. He pressed the button to call over a server.

You spent the rest of the day in your room at the inn, hoping that the next day you could leave the village to the city.

When you woke up the next day, you noticed that Volo had already gone out. It made sense you spied the time. Already noon. You still felt tired despite that. What was going on? You really needed to get out here. Getting dressed, you headed out from the inn, careful to lock your door behind you. As you headed to the exit that headed to the city, you caught a familiar person leaning on a shop's wall. One of the twins perked up at the sight of you. “Hi, again!” he grinned, walking up to you, “Where's your friend?” You shrugged. He stood over you in a loose white t-shirt while giggling. “Where are you going?” he asked. You were completely unsure of which one he was. “To the city, this place is stressing me out,” you replied. His face changed for a moment, shifting into something more serious.

“You can't. Nope,” he stood up tall, eyes darting in the direction of the shrine, “A local festival starts today. No one is allowed to come in or out starting after noon.” Volo had mentioned that you recalled, but you thought it was at a much later date. An annoyed sigh left you. You did not think you cared for their traditions as much as Volo might. “Well, if I get cursed, so be it,” you told him, “I don't really believe in the supernatural.” His smile suddenly widened while his eyes grew lidded. He hummed. The door to the shop opening broke the eye contact that refused to end between you both. His twin walked out in a loose coat.

“Ah, hello,” Ingo greeted you, “Is something wrong?”

“They want to leave the village,” Emmet told his brother, “That's verrrry bad. I'm trying to stop them.” Ingo nodded. What was wrong with these two? You felt yourself bite at your lip. The older of the two politely shook his head. “I do apologise if he was too aggressive, but it is genuinely a bad idea to leave,” he explained, “The festival only lasts for around four days. You can leave then, I promise.” Your irritation only grew worse. Ingo clearly noted that. “… Please, it would be rude to leave,” he continued and then gazed at his brother, “And they say… Lord Kudari kills those who do.” That name again. Why was that god so violent? You wanted to scream. “Could I not ask politely if I can be excused?” you asked. Ingo shook his head.

You were genuinely stuck here, as despite your words, you did fear angering a god. Annoyed, you bid a quick goodbye and walked off deeper into the village. Wood and stone were the primary components of the buildings, with streets based off paths that were clearly just the most commonly travelled walkways. Everyone just seemed almost out of place with modern clothing. You felt even more lost. Slowly, as you continued followed the road, it became fewer and fewer homes. Trees began to invade the borders of the area, while a river coursed down from the mountain and through the village. It was a quieter place, with occasionally birds chirping or flying about.

You wandered across a bridge, where you spotted Volo observing a tree. Running, you managed to catch up to him. “You didn't tell me the festival was so soon!” you whined. He only gave you a bored look. “Well, I wouldn't exactly want to be stuck here two weeks. Would you?” the blond walked back towards the village, “Did you try to leave?” You groaned. “No, but I wanted to! Those weird twins stopped me,” you explained. His eyebrow cocked up. “I wonder about those two… Did you know the gods here are said to be twins, too? They usually adore them,” he told you, “Anyway, it's just four days. Why don't you just hang out in our room until then? The festival will fun, but it actually doesn't start until tomorrow.”

You were truly regretting coming here.

~

That night, a horrible dream came to you. Most of it was lost, but the pieces you remembered left you breathless and weak. A horrible pain in your stomach while the smell of iron burned your nostrils; a feeling of fur in your palm while tears poured from your eyes. You sat up from the terrible dream in the still, silent darkness of the early morning. You swore, as you gazed at the window, that a Zoroark's face was there. Swallowing down a glass of water, you sat down. Everyone you texted laughed at the fact you feared superstition.

You felt drained. Why were you having these dreams? You had done nothing to warrant such belligerent nightmares upon your unconscious state. What was that fur? It felt like the Zorua's you had petted the other day. Had she made it home alright? You doubted anyone would ever hurt something so sacred in this village, but you felt concerned. Volo was still out-cold as well. It was just you and the moon.

But… You swore you almost felt another presence with you in the room.

It must have just been a strange confusion from your disgruntled mind.

You ended up at the festival that evening despite your hesitancy, but after having stuffed yourself away in the inn room all day, you needed a change. Your nightmare had yet to fade from your mind; it clung to you with a vigour that left you with more questions than answers. You gazed around at the crowds of people at the shrine, chatting and interacting with stalls. Lights swirled around in lanterns while laughs and cheers echoed about. Your eyes closed. Why did it feel so familiar? While you had been here just the other day, this all felt different.

Volo had gone from you, deciding to poke around and observe customs instead. He did encourage you to enjoy yourself, however. You heard someone call out for you. Emmet approached you in white and red robes with a smile. He was always smiling, it seemed. Despite your uncomfortable last communication, you felt open to speaking to any known person in the strange loneliness of this place. “Did your friend leave you?” he asked with a head tilt. You gave a slight glare at him. “Did your brother do that?” you retaliated. He looked a bit hurt by your comment, eyebrows pressing together. “He is… He got sick, so he couldn't make the festival,” Emmet's tone was a whine.

Great. Now you felt bad.

“Oh, what's wrong?” you asked, a bit concerned. Emmet might have been on the ruder side, but Ingo had been nothing but polite to you since you both had first spoken. “He has a… fever. He just did not think it would be good for him to come,” Emmet sighed, “He will be fine. Do you want to explore together? This is Lord Nobori's festival, so it's family oriented, heehee.” That caretaker had mentioned that one of the gods was fond of children. You gazed around at all the groups and felt small. “Uh, sure,” you agreed. He grinned.

“Follow me!”

You did.

Emmet took you around to every stall you swore and had you try all the food he could. Some of the games were even played by you both, to which he won a surprising amount. You laughed as he handed you a stuffed Zorua kit. It had a different fur pattern than you were used to, but Emmet assured you that they were based off real ones. You watched a few fireworks with him, before Emmet brought you over to the actual shrine to sit. The moon shined brilliantly above your heads. People were slowly beginning to clear out a bit. Tomorrow would be another day, you knew, but… You felt strange again.

Like eyes were watching you from somewhere unknown.

“… Did a Zorua kit die here recently?” you felt the dream bothering you again. Emmet genuinely stiffened at your words, eyes growing wide while he bit his lip.

“Not recently… No,” he told you with an odd tone, “… Why do you ask?”

“I've been having strange dreams I can't remember,” you admitted to him, “It started when I came here. Last night I dreamt that I got injured somehow and there was a Zorua there.”

He said nothing. His silence was startling while his head turned to look at the shrine behind you both. You wondered what he was looking at when you suddenly felt extremely tired. “I'm sorry,” he apologised, “Everything will make sense soon.” You collapsed into unconsciousness into his arms. Emmet held you close to him with soft eyes.

A familiar face peered out of the shrine, but obscured by a mask.

“They're remembering,” he smiled at the god.

Ingo felt a terrible happiness and fear in his chest.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #ingo x reader x emmet #ingo/reader/emmet #pokehybrid au

[ae-neon]

Nesta Archeron in the Autumn Court

Other Neris Autumn Court stuff: (X)

[Non-political Neris because if I get into it, this will be 28 pages long]

She arrives in Autumn one month before the Hunt.

During her official introduction at court she wears a deep green dress, mermaid cut, the ends of the sleeves and tail made to resemble peacock feathers. It's the loudest thing she's ever worn so she opts out of jewellery.

She's almost horrified to find the dress barely stands out in the sea of outlandish fashion of the Autumn Court

Eris worries he'll have to spend most of his time babysitting an obnoxious Night Court brat but he finds Nesta surprisingly quiet aside from her sarcasm and wit.

He feels his power draw to the surface the first time they dance together, held hostage by that blue grey gaze.

She plays the aristocrat well enough that most things only take a few lessons and he ends up working while she buries herself in a book.

Nesta slowly adopting an Autumn sense of fashion but still holding back on the busier patterns and jewellery

There are things about Autumn so familiar to Nesta they feel like memories and things so strange they feel like dreams

Nesta wearing black pants and white shirts with fancy sleeves and ruffles

Nesta learning fire dancing and Autumn Court dueling

Eris being insanely stylish

Eris making sure his tailor and shoemaker include little couple details in their wardrobes to stir rumours

Nesta in embroidered coats, riding pants and knee high brown leather boots

Nesta pretending she can't be arsed to get into Fae history but becoming fixated on certain eras and people

The Lady of Autumn gives Nesta a fan made to look like a peacock's tail in remembrance of Nesta's first proper attendance at court.

It's subtle but Nesta can feel her magic rise closer to the surface in Autumn, the way the flames around her seem to burn brighter and the wind whispers as it flows through the sea of trees.

There are ruins in the woods near the Forest House that Eris tells her were once a part of the sprawling construct. The stairs circle into nothing above but lead down into a dark flooded tunnel below.

Nesta is almost sure she sees a ripple and hears something whisper her name as she stares down into the blue black water.

Nesta's favourite lessons become the fire dancing. The art lies somewhere between the classic steps she'd learned as a child and some sort of martial arts, flames all the while painting vivid pictures.

She hates to admit how beautiful Eris looks as he performs the movements.

Nesta asking Eris about certain details on the people and places she's reading about. Him answering earnestly and in full, sometimes they go on and on for hours - lost in quiet conversation

Sometimes, walking through the woods, Nesta sees figures moving between the trees, feels a chill run up her spine when she's sure something brushes past her

She dreams too, strange dreams about running through the woods with blood in her mouth, on her hands. Sometimes Eris is there, red hair glinting in the corner of her eye

The closer they get to the Hunt, the more she sees, feels and hears. The more restless the thing inside her becomes

Eris seems to sense it too, he grows quiet around her, watching and waiting

Other things watch and wait too; owls and foxes, wild horses and stray cats. She isn't sure if these things are happening in her dreams or not.

One day they walk out deeper into the woods than she's ever been. Eris quietly beside her all the while. Too quiet. So quiet she isn't sure he's there when she doesn't look.

It's two nights until the Hunt and she still isn't sure what that means or why it feels important.

She turns to see Eris, amber eyes watching her, leaning against a bone white tree. He's beautiful and terrifying, like her.

Nesta wonders if it's just another dream. She's sure she can hear his heartbeat. As loud as a drum.

She knows it in her bones before it happens, that she is the Hunter.

That Autumn, and Eris, had been waiting for her. That she would kill Beron and that the magic inside him would find its way into her.

Well, that took a turn.

I didn't plan this out and I actually have like 4 other Neris drafts but oh well. Also, this is definitely more Nesta than Eris but maybe I'll do another when I'm in a better headspace.

#acotar #nesta archeron #nesta x eris #eris vanserra #autumn court #anti nessian #anti acosf #nesta deserves better #anti sjm #acotar edit #neris #acotar headcanon #pro nesta #pro eris #pro nesta archeron #pro eris vanserra #witch nesta #nesta supremacy #ae aesthetics