#mostly just fluff

[sentientcave]

Part 1 - Part 2

Contains: Gals being pals, homoerotic speculation, brief mentions of alcohol and kink (conversationally)

SFW - Word Count: ~2.8k

You only had a few days to get used to living with Soap before she was gone again, but now, without her exuberant presence, the apartment feels emptier than it did when it was just you living there. You fall into a familiar pattern, running the occasional errand, but mostly just getting up, getting coffee, going to work and going home. It’s… lonelier than you expected.

You’re not sure when to expect her back. When you’d asked, she’d just laughed. “As long as it takes, kitty. Dinnae worry. I’ll have Katie send ye the rent if I’m no’ back before month end.” She didn’t explain who Katie was, and you were a bit afraid to ask. She’d probably just tell you that it’s a classified matter anyway.

The idea that she could be gone that long, or even longer, makes your stomach clench with worry. Perhaps you’ve only known Jamie for a week or so, really, but she’s already gotten under your skin and made a home for herself. There’s signs of her all over your apartment too— The big green couch, her 3 in 1 soap in the shower (That you’re pretty sure she didn’t use once during the days she’d been there, electing instead to use your products), her winter jacket in the closet, her ‘going out’ boots in the hall. A picture of her and her cousins stuck to the fridge with a Rangers Football Club magnet. It’s the only picture you have of her, and it’s many years old, featuring a gangly, teenaged Jamie that hadn’t filled out into the powerhouse of a woman that you’d met.

You’re wiling away the hours at work, when your favourite barista, Alex, comes in after her shift and chats with you while she browses the romance section. She only ever buys the ones with horny oil paintings on the cover. For the aesthetic, she says, but you're pretty sure she's just a harlequin fan. You can’t blame her. You love a good romance too.

"You ever go to those workshops?" she asks while you’re cashing her out. She gestures at the board behind you. "I've been thinking about going to the ropes one, but haven't worked up the courage to go alone."

"No! I probably should sometime. I think my landlord runs one of them. I'm not sure which though." You slide her books into a paper bag and hand her the receipt.

"Here. I'll give you my number in case you ever want someone to go with. I think it could be fun." She scribbles down her number on the back of her receipt and slides it back across the counter to you with a smile. “I’ve been thinking about—”

The door jangles. “Heya, kitty!” It’s Jamie, grinning ear to ear, a freshly healed scar on her chin and a bandage on her arm, covering half of her SAS tattoo. She sidles past Alex and comes around the counter to hug you tightly. She smells like sweat and gunpowder. She must have come straight to you after getting home. “Missed ya. Been a right slog the last few weeks. Ghost got hisself shot and ugh, he’s all fine out in the field, carryin’ on no problem, but as soon as we’re back at the safe house he’s cryin’ about how much he needs me tae take care of him. Just an absolute wet biscuit of a man.” She glances over at Alex, like she hadn’t even noticed her standing there. “Oh, hello, cutie. Sorry, didnae mean to interrupt.” Her eyes zero in on the reciept with the phone number scrawled across it.

“Oh, it’s, um, it’s fine,” Alex says nervously. “Are you— Um—”

“Alex, this is Jamie. She’s my new roommate. Jamie, Alex. She works at the coffee shop down the way.”

Jamie sticks a hand out, but leaves her other arm wrapped around you. “Nice ta meet you. Been in there a couple times but ye must work the mornin’ shift, aye? I’m always due on base early mornin’.”

“So, you’re, um, military?” Alex asks. She winces slightly when Soap shakes her hand.

“Sure am. Sorry, hen, didnae mean to squeeze so hard. Ye get used to it bein’ a bloody cock measuring contest with the lads on base. Gotta adjust for civvies.” She smiles apologetically. “What were you girlies goin’ on about before I came in? Don’t want to leave your conversation unfinished before I get to monopolizin’ our girl’s time, aye?”

“We were just talking about the workshops. On the board. Alex mentioned that she was thinking about going to the ropes one.”

“Is that the one yer handsome landlord runs?” Soap asked. “And is it like, knots for boats and whatnot, or the fun kind? Wouldnae mind tyin’ ye up, kitty.”

“I’m… Not sure. It’s kind of unclear, but there’s an email listed. I’ll get some clarification.” You give Soap a side-long glance. She looks a bit more excited than you’re sure what to do with. “And besides that, there’s no way I’m letting you tie me up.”

The light in her eyes only gets more intense. “You gonna tie me up, kitty? Have yer way with me?”

Alex clears her throat, looking a bit nervous. “Well, um. I’ll see you around. Text me and let me know about the course. Or if you just want to hang out. I’m free after one like every day.”

“I can also keep you apprised of when we get a truck-load of harlequins in, give you the first go through,” you say. “I’ll see you Wednesday, eh?”

“Yeah. Bright and early.” She smiles at you. “And, um, nice to meet you, Jamie the roommate.”

“See ye around, Alex the coffee girl.” Soap waited for the door to close behind Alex before she spoke again. “Looks like she’s got a little crush on ye, kitty. Didnae know I had so much competition.”

You roll your eyes. “She doesn’t. She’s just being friendly.”

“Oh sure, kitty. Me too.” Soap withdrew a step and leaned against the counter. “Ye want to come out for a pint tonight? It’s a tradition, with me and the lads. We go out, get blootered, captain goes home early, Gaz flirts with someone’s girlfriend, and then we have a scrap outside an’ Ghost breaks it up. Ye can help him, it’ll be good ta have another voice’f reason to balance us out.”

“I think a pint is a far cry from, er, getting blootered,” you say, laughing. “But sure. I don’t start work till eleven tomorrow. I can stand to get a little silly. So long as you’re sure the lads don’t mind. I don’t want to overstep.”

“No’ possible. They like you a lot. Maybe a little too much, if ye ask me. I’m goan to head home and get cleaned up, aye? Do ye mind if I eat the leftovers in the fridge? I’m starvin’.”

“You already ate them, didn’t you?” you ask. There was really no other reason why she would know that there were leftovers to eat.

“Weal. Yes. But yer a kind soul, kitty. I knew ye’d say yes. I’ll buy all yer drinks tonight tae make up for it.”

“Oh fine,” you say. It’s hard to even imagine being mad at her. You suspect that it’s a waste of energy, when she’s just a big puppy dog of a person. Scolding her for anything isn’t likely to change her behaviour, it’s just going to make her feel terrible during the scolding. And you don’t quite have the heart to scold Soap, with her big blue eyes. “I was going to go round to the shops tonight, so maybe you can go tomorrow? I have a list, and I can give you money for it. I just work till five and I won’t have a chance.”

“I can do tha’, kitty. When d’ye get off work today? Three?”

“Five. A couple more hours. Shouldn’t be long.”

“Hours! Aw, c’mon, kitty.” She pouted, as though that were going to get you out of work any faster. “Can’t ye close up early? There’s no one here.”

“Jamie, it’s my job. If I closed up early every time I felt like it I wouldn’t have a job for very long, and then you’d be the one looking for a new roommate.”

Jamie grumbled about how she wouldn’t let that happen, as if she had any control over the state of your finances, but headed home to shower without too much more complaining, although she rather disconcertingly mentioned offhand, as she was heading out the door, that she would go through your closet and find you something cute to wear. You really hoped that didn’t mean pull everything out of your dresser drawers and make a mess.

Things pick up at the shop enough to keep you from dwelling on what Jamie was up to— And she was uncharacteristically quiet on her end as well, only texting you once with a blurry picture of Red Herring scampering down the hallway captioned with CREATURE SIGHTING, and a second one of her and Red cuddled up on the couch, faces smushed together. You take a sneaky picture of a customer with a yellow coat and bright orange boots with Big Bird: Confirmed written across it. You’re careful to leave their face out of frame, but you do feel a bit bad about it, and elect to ‘accidentally’ not ring through one of the books, giving it to them for free instead. The return text makes your transgression against public decency almost worth it.

LMFAOOO<

Finally, it’s time to lock up the store and walk home. It gets dark early now, and the sun is already setting over your street, the shadows growing long, the gold light of dusk painting the edges of the clouds, and the buildings with a little gilt paint. It feels good to know that Jamie’s home. You feel like you can breathe properly again, like you’d been holding your breath for weeks and weeks, not knowing if she was alright. You’d been sleepwalking through your days, and you’re finally awake again, able to appreciate the colour of the sky and the half-familiar and familiar faces you walk by. You know you must be smiling, because you get plenty of smiles in return.

Happiness is an infectious thing.

You check the mailbox for the usual pile of flyers and bills, and sort through them on the way up the stairs. Mostly just junk, and your internet and credit card bills. And an envelope with so many stamps on it that your address is written off to the side in cramped letters. There’s no return address on it.

You unlock the door and drop your bag to the side, in it’s usual spot. Soap’s work boots are neatly placed beside the nearly identical ‘going out’ boots, dusty and worn in from the weeks away. Jamie is sitting at the table, scribbling in a notebook, Red Herring sitting on the table beside her, bapping at the end of her pen every time it approaches his side of the notebook.

"Hm-- Oh! Hi, kitty!" Jamie closes the notebook, tucking her pen inside, and gets up from her seat at the table. Her hair is wet, down around her shoulders to air dry, and she's wearing a tank top and a pair of black boxer shorts with a skull pelvis on them. You suspect that they belong to Ghost. The idea that he wears skulls all the way down to his skivvies makes you like him even more.

Are they dating? You're not sure what the rules are for military relationships, but you suspect that a lieutenant dating a sergeant is not allowed under usual circumstances. Not that you could blame them. Ghost is huge and actually pretty sweet, under the growly voice and mask. He was covered in cat hair by the time he'd gone home, all those weeks ago, because Red liked him so much. And Jamie was a tall, beautiful, muscled-up amazon woman. And they had their whole warriors bond thing going on. It wouldn't be a surprise for them to be interested in each other. The flirting she’s been doing with you is likely no more than just playful fun. You don’t really mind, you just have to keep yourself from reading into it too much.

“Welcome home, by the way,” you say as Soap grabs you into an even tighter hug than before. “I missed you. And I was starting to get worried.”

“You didnae get my letter?” she asked.

“Letter?” you ask. You hold up the envelope with all the stamps. “This?”

“Oh! Guess it didnae make it back before I did. No time to read it right now, kitty. Ye’ve got ta get ready.” She pulls the stack of mail from your hand and tosses it down on the counter before dragging you down the hallway towards your room.

“Do I have time to shower?” you ask mildly.

“Do ye need to?” Soap leans in and sniffs you audibly, trying not to laugh. “Smell fine to me, kitty.”

You giggle and swat her away. “I could smell better. But mostly it’s just so I can wash out the ponytail crease in my hair. It’d take ages to get rid of it otherwise.”

“Bah. Fine. I’ll wait in yer room, I found a few cute outfits for ye.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be a few, if you want to get ready yourself.”

“Psshh, it only takes me a minute. Want ye to help me with my eyeliner too, if you don’t mind. Ye do that little swooptie thing? Whenever I try tha’ I cannae get them even.”

“Of course.”

You shower and towel dry your hair, and wrap your towel around yourself. It's one of those nice extra big ones that actually covers everything. You bought it after making a mad dash across the hall when Fern's boyfriend was staying over, trying not to flash him, and made the decision immediately after to not go through that kind of stress again. He had become a too-regular presence in your home to ignore in the months before Fern moved in with him.

Jamie makes you try on five different outfits before letting you settle on a skirt that hits around the knee and a flowy yellow tank top, and she finally goes to get dressed herself while you dab on makeup and style your hair. After weeks apart, having Soap back is refreshing, even if she does have a low tolerance for personal space. Out in the field, that closeness is probably necessary, it probably keeps her and her teammates alive, but here it only serves to fluster you and set your off balance. Jamie doesn’t seem at all aware what effect she has on you, and her flippant, flirty comments don’t help matters either.

Helping her do her makeup is the trickiest part, really. She’s twitchy and fidgety, and you end up pinning her flat to the flat to your bed, one hand holding her jaw and the other holding your eyeliner pen, a knee on either side of her rib cage. The angle is awkward when you do the other eye, and you have to lean in closer, steadying your wrist against her forehead. You don’t remove your hand from her jaw until you’ve finished either, well aware that she’ll start talking the moment you release her and make it impossible to finish up neatly.

“There!” you say, sitting back to admire your handiwork. She blinks up at you for a long moment, her blue eyes made all the more bright by the contrasting band of black on her upper lid. “Actually—” You twist and grab your makeup bag, and grab her face again, adding a swipe of peachy pink lip-gloss to her mouth.

Uncharacteristically, she just lays there for a moment, still quiet, looking dazed and flushed. For a moment, you feel a rush of… Well, you would hesitate to call it euphoria, but there’s a certain satisfaction in rendering Soap speechless and pink, when she’s an amazon, and you’re just a round little woman who’s idea of a workout is stocking shelves and crating books around.

But then again, you are sitting directly on her diaphragm, and you know you aren’t light. “Oh, goodness, I’m squishing you, aren’t I?” you scramble to get off of her, and offer her a helping hand up. “We should get going.”

“Right. Yeah. O’course, kitty. Let’s go.” She pulls in a deep breath, shaking off the daze, her familiar devastating grin sliding back into place. “Wouldnae want to keep the lads waiting, aye?”

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but you think, just maybe, she does want to keep them waiting. You snag a cardigan from your closet and stop to to give Redd Herring a scritch behind the ears before you follow her out into the hallway and lock up the apartment.

She offers you her arm, like she’s some kind of gentleman (which she would not be, even if she was a man), and you take it, looking forward to the night out.

***

Image Credits:

Top Row: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 Bottom Row: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 Background

Any other graphics used are canva elements

#cave writing #cod mw #Fem!SoapxfemReader #xReader #Femsoapxreader #mostly just fluff #sorry this took me like a month to do #I was working on like anything else lmao #Jamie Mactavish could get it tbh

[sundaynightlive]

True Blue (Klance)

Live, laugh, stream Boygenius.

Disclaimer: I mention autism in this and that Keith might be on the spectrum. I'm not neurotypical but I don't believe I have autism, so if the way I did it was in any way insensitive, PLEASE lmk so I can rectify this. My roommate (and best friend) is autistic and while I don't necessarily know their experience I have spent a ton of time with them and have had long, in depth discussions about their experience which is why I felt comfortable writing it. It's a little in line with my own experience, which is why I think it might be slightly off? If it rubs you the wrong way, for sure drop a reply. Peace and love, sweetpeas <3

Also, can y'all tell I'm in a secret relationship? That obvious, huh.

It’s when everybody has dispersed back to their rooms, Shiro giving one last worried glance over his shoulder, that Keith finally walks up to the healing pod, pressing his forehead to the glass (or whatever clear, Altean material this thing's made of) and heaving a deep, shaky breath.

“Idiot,” he whispers.

Lance isn’t usually the kind of guy to be in the midst of the action. Keith’s sharpshooter tends to stick around the high ground and well-covered edges, but today has been an exception. The hallway of the ship had been tight, with little cover and little room to move. He found himself right there in it at Keith’s side, and for the most part he’d held his ground—blocking with his gun, tripping enemies, watching Keith’s back.

For a moment, a fleeting moment, Keith had actually felt incredible fighting at his boyfriend’s side.

And then that moment passed, and everything came to a screeching halt.

It’s a deep flesh wound in the meat of the shoulder, a puncture in the right thigh, and a broken rib. Not enough to kill, but enough to send Lance crashing into Keith’s side, out like a light—and more than enough to give Keith an absolute heart attack.

He sighs heavily, and crumples in on himself to the floor. He’s tired, bruised, and worried. Lance is going to be fine, he knows (he does), but that doesn’t stop the ache that crawls up and through his feet and hands and lungs. 

He never wants to see Lance unconscious like that again.

A few hours later, Allura peeks in and tells him they’re having dinner. Keith isn’t the slightest bit hungry—actually, he’s rather comfortable, back pressed against the pod, drifting in and out of sleep and distant memory. 

“I’m okay.”

She frowns.

“You should come eat, and change,” she says. Keith shakes his head. No way. Absolutely not. He’s not going anywhere until Lance can come with him, and if it gets too dire, there’s a bathroom a few feet away. A shower, even. 

That’s good enough for him.

“He’s alright, Keith,” Allura tries, “Just a few days in there and he’ll be—”

“I know,” Keith interrupts. She regards him for a moment, a long look of concern and confusion, and then relents with a heavy sigh.

“Alright. If you need anything—”

“I know,” Keith repeats.

She hesitates a few moments, and then leaves. Keith closes his eyes, and rests his head back against the pod that contains his boyfriend.

-

8 months earlier Lance McClain had entered Keith’s room, unannounced, and miraculously ducked out of the way of a boot flying towards his head with worrying accuracy.

“If you’re here to gloat, get it over with,” Keith hissed in his direction, a wild, untamed anger alight in his eyes. He’s… frustratingly beautiful, Keith, with his mullet of dark hair, indigo eyes, and lean muscle. He’s half-dressed, the top part of his flight suit hanging from his waist. Lance tries not to look down at his chest, and fails miserably.

He swallowed that away.

“Keith—”

“Actually, you know what?” Keith basically charged at him, which was terrifying for the first few moments. A finger pressed firmly into Lance’s chest, and he took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. He really didnt' want Keith to hit him—that would be a worst case scenario. “Fuck you. Every other mission you’re the fuck up, so I don’t want to hear—”

“I’m not here to gloat,” Lance said, shame and embarrassment burning something fierce in his gut at being called a fuck up. It was difficult, but he swallowed that away, too. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

That's when Keith faltered.

The finger retracted, and so did the boy, stalking over to sit heavily on the edge of his bed, and then burrying his face in his hands. There was a few moments of silence, and then Lance followed, sitting gently down next to him, putting a warm hand on his back.

He wanted, then, to smooth his hand down porcelain skin, but he refrained.

“I… know what it’s like for someone you look up to to chew you out like that,” Lance explained softly, “And Shiro’s not really a big brother to me, or anything, but I know if Marco or Luis were that hard on me… especially for something so stupid—”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Keith argued, rubbing his face and then looking up at him. Lance swallowed again—Keith was so pretty it was fucking with Lance’s head. Damn this stupid crush he had—it was interfering with his ability to be an effective teammate. He wanted this to be more than that.

Which was so not cool, at least not now.

“I fucked up. Big time.”

“That doesn’t mean he should yell at you like that in front of the whole team. Especially when the whole issue was communication.”

“I should’ve known better.”

“How?” Lance deadpanned. Keith’s eyebrows scrunched up, and he turned to study the wall, as if he was really contemplating. Here’s what had happened—

They planned to infiltrate from different points of the ship, and take it quietly so as to not alert any other nearby patrol ships or junkers. Then, with free range of the ship and a hostage situation, Keith and Pidge would be free to search through databases and stockpiles to see what tech or resources the Galra had been laundering through—a fairly simple endeavor.

What they had not accounted for, however, were the Galra mercenaries posted in certain sectors of the ship. When Shiro had gone to warn Keith of this over the comms, Keith had taken that as—the plan has changed, we’re pursuing action against these mercenaries, and upon following that mindset, had landed him and Pidge in the middle of combat they had not been prepared for, and alerted the ship’s staff before Shiro had gained full control of the hull. This made for a spiral of chaos that was swiftly quelled, but apparently got on Shiro’s nerves, even though the mission had been overall successful.

He was always so worried about unnecessary casualties. Fair, Lance supposes, but they are in the middle of literal war.

“I… don’t know,” Keith admitted finally, “I could have… hesitated?”

“And gotten you both killed?” Lance asked. Keith sighed. He flopped back and Lance followed suit, stretching a little bit. Keith was so close Lance could feel the body heat wafting off his torso. He tried not to think about it too much.

Too much was a relative term.

“Whatever, I’m over it. Let’s talk about something else—what are Marco and Luis like?”

And the rest is history.

They spent the next two months connected at the hip, or at least, sneaking into each other’s rooms late at night to talk about everything and nothing. If Keith needed to vent, he went to Lance, and vice versa. If they were bored, they found each other in an empty part of the castle and found something to entertain them. If Hunk or Pidge were being shitty, or Shiro was being too much, or Allura was being especially pushy, they would give each other matching looks, and go giggle about it elsewhere. 

It was wildly beneficial, for Lance, at least. He stopped feeling lonely, and he stopped feeling useless. Not only did Keith convince him vocally he was a necessary addition to the team, but just being friends with him made Lance feel like if nothing else, Keith needed him. Keith liked having him around.

And that was more than enough.

-

Lance was Keith’s first real experience having a friend. He had a dad, he had a brother, but Lance was a friend. He chose. 

Keith could never have avoided falling in love with him.

Being with Lance was easy in a way that’s hard to explain if you don’t already know what he means. Like the way breathing is easy. Keith didn’t even have to try to do it, he just did it.

That, for him, was love.

He’d never really been good with people, or at reading people, or at understanding arbitrary social rules and expectations. It just didn’t… click for him. But with Lance, it didn’t have to click.

“That… kind of upsets me,” Lance said.

Keith started. He looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor, perplexed.

“What?”

“What you just said,” Lance explained, “That I’m the “comic relief” or whatever.” Keith furrowed his brow. His first instinct was to defend himself, and explain why it didnt' make sense that Lance was offended by that, but he stopped himself. They’ve talked about that--getting defensive about other people’s feelings instead of listening to them. 

Lance was looking at him expectantly.

“I’m… sorry,” Keith said, finally, “Why?” A distant cousin of a smile passed over Lance’s features for a moment, and then he shrugged.

“I don’t know. I guess it makes me feel like… a joke to you guys.” Keith’s eyes widened. That was not even remotely what he’d meant by it. He was fairly certain that’s not what anyone meant by it, but he supposed he can see that side.

Jeez, had Lance thought that the whole time?

“Of course you’re not a joke to me—us,” Keith corrected, feeling a bit of warmth creep into his cheeks, “I’m… sorry.”

“Getting better,” Lance praised, “What did you mean, then?”

“Well,” Keith said slowly, because what did he mean? “I thought we were just saying you’re good at lightening the mood, you know? It would be… really quiet and depressing without you.” Lance nodded, but he didn't look entirely convinced.

“Well… thanks, I guess.”

“I won’t say it again,” Keith said firmly, because how could he? Lance thinking he was a joke was just about the last thing Keith wanted—he felt bad enough about calling him a fuck up a few weeks ago, even worse now. Damn it, had they all been operating under the assumption Lance got that these were all jokes? Less than jokes, even.

Fuck.

“Thanks, man. That means… a lot.” Keith laid back down, flat on his back, staring up at Lance’s ceiling. The glow in the dark star stickers weren't glowing because it wasn't dark, but he still felt a little warmth at seeing them there. Ironic that Lance could just go to the hull and stare at a hundred-billion real ones, but incredibly endearing besides.

His insides twisted up.

Fuck number two.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Telling you what?”

“That what I said upset you,” Keith explained softly, staring up at those stars, hoping Lance wasn't looking at him. He was pink—very pink. “I don’t really… get when I’ve said something shitty. And most people just get offended and stop talking to me.” Lance laughed a little at that.

“My niece, Nadia, is on the spectrum. You know, autism? She’s just like that—she struggles with social cues, so we walk her through it just like I did with you. It’s really no problem—actually, it’s the least I can do.” 

Keith tried to work out what he meant by that, but he couldn't, so he just stared up at the ceiling for a few quiet moments, contemplating. He wanted to live in Lance’s space forever. He wanted to stay in this room with him, silently existing near each other, no words necessary. Nothing necessary.

God, what did that mean?

“Do you think I could be on the spectrum?”

He heard Lance’s shrug against the mattress.

“Maybe.”

And nothing more was said about it.

-

Lance kissed Keith for the first time two months after that day in his room, and when Keith melted headfirst into it, he nearly broke away to jump for joy. He didn’t read the signs wrong—this was happening. He and Keith were happening.

“I like you,” Lance said when the kiss broke, “I like you so much.”

“Got that,” Keith replied, pressing his forehead into Lance’s. Lance felt giddy and warm and buzzed all over. He felt like he could fly—like he could launch Blue a thousand feet in the air and jump off and soar. He dragged his fingers over Keith’s neck and through his hair and across his cheeks, almost like he was checking to make sure this was real.

It was real.

“Kiss me again,” Keith breathed, and so Lance obliged him. He’d do anything the boy asked. Forever.

“Did I say stop?”

“No, sir.”

-

Keith stays in the infirmary for the next 72 hours. Shiro worriedly brings him a change of clothes and Hunk drops by with the occasional meal. They keep insisting that he leave, that Lance is fine, that it wasn’t his fault—he knows that. He didn’t stab Lance, that’s obvious. 

They don’t understand when he tells them no.

At first, keeping their relationship a secret was just a means of making sure when they did tell everyone, they’d have a few months under their belt as proof that this was serious, and not a terrible, Voltron-ending fling. 

Then it became second nature.

Just as their friendship had been, it became familiar and meaningful to keep their personal relationship to themselves. They were each other’s safe space, and as such, it didn’t feel right to go around announcing to the world that they found comfort in each other. Hell, it felt invasive to even think about.

It feels invasive even now. That’s why he doesn’t explain himself—he just let’s the team think he’s gone completely nuts, and makes himself comfortable at the base of the cryopod, occasionally gazing up at his beautiful boyfriend, looking so peaceful.

In the 74th hour, Lance wakes up.

“I seriously think that shit is bad for humans,” is the first thing he grumbles as Keith helps him out and down onto solid ground, “God, it feels like I have the worst hangover.” Keith can’t help but laugh a little, and Lance grins over at him. “Let me guess—you slept in here on the floor like a dumbass.”

Keith’s smile turns sheepish.

“I couldn’t leave you,” he explains softly, and Lance sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m okay. You, on the other hand, should’ve been sleeping in bed.”

“You were really hurt,” Keith argues as long tan arms slip loosely around his waist, “I was worried about you.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” Lance replies. Keith melts. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and holds him close, careful to keep his face above Lance’s shoulder, no matter how badly he’d like to press his nose in it. Lance’s hands smooth over his back softly, and he almost shudders at how nice it feels. It’s so good to be back in Lance’s arms after the past three days of watching him in that pod, so close and yet impossibly far.

Lance presses a kiss to the side of his head. He feels at home.

They stay like that for a while, safely inside each others’ embrace, breath intermingling, and bodies coming loose—Lance from the stiffness that comes with being inside that stupid tube for many hours, Keith from stress.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

Lance presses another kiss to the side of Keith’s head. He had said it long before this, absolutely ages ago. Not even two months into their relationship—

I love you. Don’t say it back—I wanna watch you fall.

And here Keith is, at the bottom, resting safely in Lance's arms.

“I know, mi amor. I know.”

#keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #true blue #neurodivergent #neurodivergent keith #voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #fanfiction #writer #keith x lance #fluff #a little hurt/comfort???? #mostly just fluff #getting together #lgbtq #queer #gay #mlm #i'm absolutely so pissed they didn't end up together #last shot of the show should've been copilots with matching galra markings #you didn't even have to really comfirm it #just copilots with matching galra markings #smiling boys #WITH MATCHING GALRA MARKINGS #allurance was a rushed lie #worst character arc in media history

[kitamars]

lovey dovey (alt ver of the first one under the cut!)

#HEEHEEEEE GINHIJI BIG LOVE #so refreshing that i can mess around and draw them to my hearts content….. #so domestic here……..im sick cough cough splat #i love them so goddamn much you have no idea #all the little moments that are possible are so fun to draw even if i mostly just draw them yelling and arguing most of the time #i’ve read too much fluff fic and now this is what i have fhdnnfjdjfn suffer with me #silly men are silly and in love #sakata gintoki #hijikata toushirou #ginhiji #gintoki x hijikata #hijigin #hijikata x gintoki #gintama #ok bye

[rosieofcorona]

A Light To Break All Shadows

Just a fluffy little Halsin x Tav fic to keep the darkness at bay. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Tav is eyeing Halsin suspiciously from the opposite end of Art’s bedside, where he’s been keeping watch over the sick man for days. At least, Halsin thinks it’s been days– perhaps three (or maybe four?) at the most. It is difficult to keep track in the Shadowlands.

At any rate, he cannot answer her immediately, which means his answer is insufficient.

“If you have to think about it,” Tav continues, “It’s been too long.”

She has a point.

He is exhausted, as they all are, but cannot bring himself to rest. They are so close– he is so close– to finding the child that will save them, to ending the hundred-year darkness, to restoring light and balance to the land. 

And Art Cullagh, ill as he is, is the key that will unlock their victory, so Halsin feels as though he must protect him every moment, must stay by his side in case he should wake, or take a turn. 

For days, he has persisted, spurred on by his stamina and willpower. For days, he has waited and watched. Now the idea of sleep falls on him like a spell. 

“It is my duty.” He protests. “I will see this through.” “You will,” she agrees, “When you wake. These people will need you in the days to come. And they will need you to be rested.”

She is playing to his sense of responsibility, he knows, but he is too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he nods his agreement. 

When he rises from his chair, it seems that all his centuries of existence catch up to him at once, his joints and muscles burning. He feels old and sore and weary as he drags himself toward an empty bed.

“Go on,” Tav commands gently. She feels like a mother nudging a child off to sleep. “Even the greatest leaders need rest.”

“Then you ought to rest yourself.”

She laughs at that, though Halsin means it. He knows so few who are so capable, so resilient, so kind. She has already accomplished so many things that he could not, not in hundreds of years of practice.

“You flatter me,” Tav smiles, but Halsin shakes his head. 

“You are extraordinary.” 

His gaze is on her when he says it, on her eyes and mouth and hands, the way her armor cleaves to her, the way her weapon rests against her hip. In another place, another time, another life, he would have had her already, would have known her inside and out if she asked him to. 

And she had asked him to, once, before they came here. He remembers. At the time he had denied her as gently as he could, in the knowledge that what was growing between them, if cultivated, could later prove a distraction, a weakness. 

But gods, he had wanted her then. He wants her still. 

Yet such urges, much like sleep, must be suppressed. At least for now.

Tav stares back at him with wide eyes until she feels a flush come over her cheeks. She turns her face away, just slightly, so that Halsin will not see. 

“Well.” She clears her throat, and redirects. “I’ll rest before we go scouting tomorrow. And I’ll watch Art while you sleep.” 

“As you say.” 

**********

In his dreams, he is back in the Shadowfell, that sunless, cursed place. 

At his feet are bodies, Harper and druid and shade alike. He knows their faces, their names, their stories. Here is Atlan, a boy from his own grove, no more than eighteen years of age. Halsin had cured him once of pox, had later mentored him in the healing arts. 

And here, Jehan the Harper, who had just received word that his wife was expecting. Twins, he’d announced, over a round of drinks at Last Light. 

And Moranna, the Selunite priestess who had blessed them again and again on their journey, had prayed over them and shielded them to the best of her ability. 

All lost to the shadows, corrupted beyond recognition. All dead, cut down by his hand. 

Halsin does his best to avoid stepping on them as he presses onward, each step a battle of its own. The weight of darkness seems to crush him, seems to drain the very life out of his body. 

His god is nowhere here. 

There comes a voice through the black night, distant, disembodied. Halsin, the shadows whisper, and whisper again, closer. Halsin. 

Wildly he turns and swings his glaive, hitting nothing, the panic rising in his throat, and–

“Halsin!” Tav exclaims, blocking a swing of his fist with her forearm. 

She is sitting at the edge of his bed looking concerned, frightened even. His skin is slicked with sweat, his breathing heavy, his body tangled in the bed linens. 

Immediately, a white-hot shame rushes over him, that he should be the one to cause her fear. 

That he should strike at her, even unconsciously, his savior, his ally. His friend, though that is too weak a word for the feeling that grows within him, wraps around his heart like wild ivy. 

“Forgive me,” he pants, “I was–” 

I was lost in the darkness, he means to say, I was frightened and alone, but the words stick in his throat like flies in honey.

Yet Tav seems to know already, a tenderness softening the furrows of her brow. Not pity, he notes. Understanding. 

She has seen equivalent horrors, has seen friends fall and foes flourish and still, and still, keeps fighting toward goodness, toward light. He aches with the thought that she might have such nightmares, that she might know firsthand how he feels now. 

But she soothes him, reaches out to wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch as light and cool as an evening breeze. 

“It’s alright,” she promises. “You don’t have to explain. You are safe here.”

Halsin lets out a breath he’s been holding for too long. It has been many years since he was last comforted, truly comforted. He is so accustomed to doing the comforting that he has almost forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end. 

Tenderness is no stranger to him– many of his lovers have been gentle, have been sweet– but none have ever known his burdens, none have carried them, taken them on as their own. Here is one who has, who does, who will, if he will let her. 

He takes Tav’s hand in his and guides it, flattens her palm over the rabbit-fast beat of his heart, breathing deeply, willing it to slow. He wants to say, Thank you, then, I love you, but it’s too soon, he thinks, too desperate, no matter how true. 

“Thank you,” Halsin allows, and swallows the rest. 

Tav smiles at him then, a soft, bright thing, like a single star in the night sky. The true last light in the Shadowlands. 

“Shall I stay with you?”

“Art–,” Halsin starts, but she shakes her head calmly, knowingly. “He’s sleeping soundly. Seems his bad dreams have come to visit you.”

“I do not wish to burden you with something so trivial.”

“You could not burden me,” Tav says quietly. “But I will leave, if you prefer.” 

Her thumb strokes over his chest, her hand still pressed against him. His pulse quickens again at so intimate, so innocent a touch. Halsin wonders if she can feel it.

“I prefer your presence, always. But you need your own rest.” 

“Very well.” 

Her palm slips from him as she rises to her feet, and he thinks for a moment that he’s made a mistake, has waved off her kindness, dismissed her.

Rather, she motions for him to move over and climbs slowly, wordlessly into the bed next to him. He finds himself lifting the sheets for her, inviting her in without hesitation. 

She’s changed, he realizes as she comes close, her armor cast aside for the day. Her nightclothes make her look, make her feel smaller, softer. He wants so badly to slip his hands beneath the fabric, to see how soft she is beneath. 

“Is this alright?” Tav whispers, looking earnestly into his eyes. Her fingertips flit over his cheek, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you alright?”

The bed is small and Halsin is not, and she is pressed against him like a flower between the pages of a book. He can only nod. 

“I will rest here then, with you.”

In the gentlest act he can or will ever remember, she leans forward and kisses his eyes as if bestowing a blessing upon them, a ward against the darkness.

**********

Halsin wakes again in near-total silence, save the gentle inhale-exhale of Tav’s breathing beside him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t mind. 

Instead, he is aware of how peaceful he feels in this moment, sheltered from the dangers beyond the inn, aware that at one point or another he had let go of his worry and settled deep into dreaming. The earlier tension in his muscles has melted into a tired ache, as if he is returning from a very long walk in the Grove. 

And she is here, wrapped in his arms. A light to break all shadows.

He can’t be sure when it happened. The shift had been imperceptible, like the feeling of falling asleep, or falling in love.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x tav #my fic #halsin x reader #halsin x fem! tav #fluff #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #but mostly just so soft #like it was a delight to write something so sweet #my writing #bg3 fanfiction #halsin romance #bg3 halsin #halsin fanfic

[yuri-is-online]

Jade narrating the stuff Yuu is doing sounds funny/cute.

Dear annon, objectively you are correct. Jade narrating things sounds funny and cute in general. Unfortunately I have a cold and just took some nyquil ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ Whoops.

notes:they/them used for Yuu, this is a joke tm inspired by this meme. Please do not take this seriously and look at my masterlist for something not written on drugs.

"The humble shrimp, according to all known laws of hydrodynamics should not be able to swim. Their little legs are much too small to propel them through the ocean." Jade does not say this out loud, instead he continues to prop his head up on his hand and observe the Lounge's newest employee slaving away over the stove, signature reserved smile on his face. "The shrimp of course, swims anyway, because the shrimp does not care about what mages think is impossible."

Not that you are cooking for the lounge (yet) Jade had just invited you over for a little... he had said it was to study. What you had no idea, your patience maybe? He certainly hasn't moved since inviting you to help yourself to the Octavinelle kitchen saying something about how "humans have such interesting uses for leftovers."

"Bullshit." You think, punctuating the curse with a particularly harsh scrape to the pan. "He just didn't want to cook his dinner tonight."

"Imagine if you will, a pan of rice." Jade is idly toying with a spoon, swapping between waving it like a conductor or holding it still to speak into it like an announcer. "Truly a blessing to the hungry masses, a staple food if you will."

"Oh please no." You are tempted to spit in his plate but he would just put an unnecessary type of emphasis on thanking you for the food.

"It is presented to you fried," Jade continues, clearly deeply amused with himself "but this time, it has not been fried by a trustworthy fellow human-"

"You are an eel." You decide to settle your need to be petty by giving him the smaller fork, which does get you a regretful sigh but does not stop Jade's recapping the last episode of Twisted Wonderland.

"But by a shrimp." Jade loves it when you cook for him, not that he really wants to admit to that out loud lest you stop. Or huff and puff in embarrassment, he wants to save that for much later. Sometime when you are back in the Coral Sea and tucked neatly against his chest, safe and very much completely his and not able to run away. "The humble shrimp is proud of it's cooking."

"I am not an it, I am your partner." You are not exactly mad, you are proud of your cooking. And proud that, just like he does for his brother, he will eat all of it and then find something to complain about with a big smile on his face. Jade once again twirls his conductor's spoon, with a hum that sounds sort of like an agreement.

"The shrimp is very proud of their cooking," he amends "and the eel is very happy they want to share with him." You push your food around your plate in embarrassment much to his delight. He can't resist pushing you just a bit further, getting up as if to make for a cup but pausing to kiss your cheek before setting his kettle on the stove so it's ready to repay your favor once dinner is done. "Do be gentle with me," says the eel, heart beating horrifically hard against his chest "I am much more fragile than I look." He very much does not expect to see you darting up to kiss his lips when he turns back from the stove, the shrimp darts away with a smug giggle as the eel stands stunned, savoring the warmth of their affection before he returns to his seat.

Yes, the eel thinks he is keeping this one. Forever, ideally.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #idk if this counts as jade narrating yuu's life #is mostly just domestic fluff huh #oh well

[lyss-butterscotch]

A lil ooc i think but the espressos deserves to not be depressos this time :)

#i just noticed i havent posted any sunstone for a week #ILLEGAL #time to re-take over the sunstone tag #this was originally a prompt me and a friend came up with for a different ship #but i think it can fit sunstone #a lil domestic floof for the soul ^-^ #mine mostly i need them to be soft and happy for once #rain world #gijinka #my art #comic #seven red suns #five pebbles #rw sunstone #sunstone #domestic fluff #lyss art

[happi-dreams]

Uhh silly au go woo!!!

Basic idea : catnap but he’s now a little magical dream being that can go into the critters dreams and help them out when they’re having nightmares and such (like princess luna but with cinderella’s grandmother aesthetics)

( lil comic under the cut!! :D )

#they’re very silly to me #catnap #dogday #art #smiling critters au #idk what to call this au yett #but i think its neat #all of the crittters wear jammies and they just sorta vibe #with catnap just kinda being a sorta mystery to them #oh yeah lil funfact bout him #his lil moon pendant glows whenever a critter is having a nightmare #and his little smoke trail thing is all red n stuff ish #this au is just mostly fluff stuff

[genericpuff]

hot take, but if you can't enjoy even casual H x P inspired romance stories made for fun without justifying or defending your enjoyment of it with "well ACTUALLY these stories are MORE accurate because Persephone WANTED to go down there, she LIKED it in the Underworld!" then you sound like an out-of-touch adult intentionally omitting/changing facts to scrub the story down for a 5 year old who you know won't question you

and that's not okay ~

#and yes this is mostly about lore olympus but it can apply to other modern 'retellings' as well #it's okay if you like the fun H x P stories that are purely fluff or cutesy stories! #just don't get so swept up in the fun of it that you think it's fact or claim that what you like about it aligns with the source material #there is literally no 'older scripture' that depicts persephone going down to the underworld willingly #she was kidnapped #and if that makes you feel gross inside #GOOD #it fucking SHOULD #that's the POINT #“fanfiction” is not a dirty word #enjoy the stories that play with the source material all you want! #just please don't use that fanfiction or inspired content as source material #respect where these stories come from and what they mean to the cultures they're written from #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

[pseudowho]

just listen a sec

The Mummy (1999) with Brendan Fraser, but it's Nanami Kento instead

#I always wanted to be like Rachael Weisz's character #Mostly in that she gets to snog Brendan Fraser in The Mummy (1999) #And wear long skirts and blouses and accidentally destroy libraries #But this time I'll snog Nanami Kento instead #Yes please #Mmmffff #I just #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jjk #the mummy #brendan fraser

[onceonafullmoon]

Misunderstandings

Itoshi Sae x Reader

(No warnings (for once), just pure school fluff, takes place before Spain. Reader is GN but is described as being shorter than Sae and wearing ribbons in their hair. Reader is also an anxious mess, (wonder who they got that from *cough* me *cough*)

A really dumb letter. It all starts, with a stupid letter. And it pisses you off so much, because if you hadn’t written that dumbass confession letter, you wouldn’t have been in this scenario to begin with. But you, being you, a natural walking embarrassment, had to have done so, because the order of the universe was that you had to be a complete, stupidly sentimental dipshit who was born to clown themselves.

It starts off at lunch, your friends chattering away about something, you distantly listening to the bits and pieces that fell off the ends of the conversation, too lost in your own imagination.

“...I mean, it’s fine to say he’s cute, but other than that…” 

A princess lost in a labyrinth, searching for the key to let her leave the main gate, a torch in her hand dragging her palm along the damp, dark walls.

“...there’s more to it than that! Besides you of all people…”

Suddenly, she hears the creaking of the gate behind her, heart dropping to her stomach as a low growl emanates from behind her.

“...see! It’s not the same…”

Sweating, she picked up the pace, running for her life, hands searching for the key desperately, trying to find any way to escape!

“...and that's because you’re delusional…”

Finally, with no choice left, and a monster hot on her heels, no key in sight, she desperately swings around, torch gripped defensively, jaw dropping in horror only to see–

“...fine then! What do you think (Name)?!”

You snap out of your daydreams, eyes darting up to your clearly annoyed friends who were in the middle of what seemed like a heated argument with each other, eyes glaring into the other, while you desperately try to catch up with what happened.

“...uh, I think you both had some good points, but personally, this topic is pretty nuanced.” You blurt out, giving a true neutral politician like statement.

“You weren’t even listening.” Suki sighs, looking at you in annoyance albeit less annoyance than aimed at Naomi.

“...yeah, I’m sorry.” You apologize sheepishly. “Can you give me the Sparknotes version?”

“I was just saying that Suki’s taste in men is lacking and she–” Naomi starts, before getting cut off. 

“-And I’m saying she has no right to talk! Who the fuck finds Maruki from Persona 5 attractive?!” Suki exclaims.

“Who doesn’t?!” Naomi snaps back.

“He is kinda hot–” 

“(Name)! Shut up!” Suki glares at you.

You hold your hands up in defense, not wanting to get into a pissing match with the girl, who in your opinion, was far too passionate about the topic.

“Okay, okay sure.” You placate. “But then who were you talking about Suki?”

“I was talking about a real person, who is appropriately aged and I actually have a conceivable chance with!”

Naomi rolls her eyes at that statement and laughs almost rudely. 

“There is no chance in hell you, or any human being for that matter, would end up with Itoshi Sae.”

“Really? Itoshi?” You ask, jolting in surprise at the name.

Well, you understood the hype around him, good looks, determination, talent at soccer and… uh… yeah… that was it actually… well that was a bit depressing, but hey, most people don’t even have the “good- looks” part, so he was doing pretty okay in your book.

“What’s wrong with that?” Suki snaps.

“He’s a dick!” Naomi snaps. “Right (Name)?”

“Eh? Uhh… well I don’t know exactly, I’ve never talked to him before.” You say, only really remembering the back of his jersey when you saw him playing, being forced to by Suki (and maybe because you secretly thought the game was cool)… which now you understand why.

You do distantly recall seeing the back of his familiar blush hair as he rejected yet another hopeful romantic, the poor girl running away crying, but you could hardly hold that against either of them. It wasn’t her fault she liked him, and it wasn’t his fault he didn’t like her.

Ah, teenage emotions, so complicated.

“Please, (Name), everyone says he’s a dick.” Naomi retorts, to which Suki distantly protests.

You simply just shrug. “It's none of my business either way.”

“Yeah, well it's about to be, this blockhead wants to confess.” Naomi says, gesturing to a slowly red flushing Suki.

“Oh, for Valentine’s day?” You ask, only remembering the date because you make it a point to change the ribbons in your hair for every holiday.

“Cringe.” Your brother said, when you left the house on October 31st, with orange ribbons.

You simply flipped him off.

“Yeah and she’s going to take the risk and be horribly humiliated by that prick, even though we all know she’s going to fall in love again with the next guy she sets eyes on.” 

“This is different, he’s been on my mind for like, three weeks!” Suki protests, earning a glare from Naomi and a laugh from you.

So that’s what this is about.

You can’t help but laugh at Naomi. “So, basically, you’re just worried about Suki, like a sweetheart.”

Suki can’t help but laugh even though she’s still flustered and angry, and Naomi takes her time to blush now.

“Oh fuck off.” She scoffs.

“No, it’s sweet!” You protest, a grin on your face. 

“Besides, it doesn’t have to be a disaster, all Suki has to do is confess through a letter.” You say, already formulating a plan. “I mean it’s gonna be Valentine’s day anyways, he’s gonna have so many letters in his locker, all she has to do is slip it in the envelope when no ones looking and it’ll be fine. Also, if he isn’t interested, like you’ve said, then he’ll probably just ignore it. Easy peasy.”

Naomi still looks unsure, but Suki brightens up visibly at the idea. 

“That’s a great idea (Name)!” She exclaims.

“...Good enough I suppose.” Naomi grumbles.

Suki nods, happy with your suggestion, until a sheepish smile breaks out on her face.

“...say uhh, (Name), what exactly should I write?”

Naomi groans and you sigh with a small smile on your face.

—

In the end, you end up being the one to write Suki’s love confession, not that you really wanted to, to your credit.

“If it’s a love letter from you, why am I writing it?” You frown disapprovingly at her, though she can’t see it through the phone.

“You’re just a better writer than me (Name), please?” She asks, no, more like whines at you.

“...Fine, but at least tell me a general idea of what you want me to say.” You concede, to which she eagerly starts speaking.

In the end you managed to put together a letter, cringy, but not overtly so, even though Suki’s call ended up being cut short, not that what she said had had been of much substance anyways… because Naomi was right when she said that Suki fell in and out of love very quickly, to the point that calling it love was almost an insult. You ended up gushing a tad about his football skills to fill the space that was lacking.

(Okay, maybe more than a tad of gushing, but you didn’t know what else to write about, so you went with fangirling.)

You end up running into Naomi after school who then informs you that Suki’s dumbass somehow got sick.

“Are you serious?” You ask, deadpan. “So I wrote this dumb ass letter for nothing?”

“You wrote it?” Naomi asks, surprised. 

“She told me what to write… kinda, I edited it a bit.” You wave her off, frowning, the expression looking out of place on your pink bow decorated face.

“A bit, huh? You’re too nice for your own good.” Naomi shakes her head. “Are you delivering it for her too?”

You sheepishly avert your eyes to which Naomi rolls her own to. 

“Good God (Name).”

“Well it's not her fault she’s sick!” You pout. “Besides it’s fine, it's basically just a pit stop before I go home.”

Naomi’s disapproving look shows on her face as you wave her goodbye, but you simply stick her tongue out at her, determined to finish this dumb task.

After all, your good friend depends on you… kinda, well it's not as dire as you make it out to be but that’s the fun of it.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you make your way over to the lockers.

You’re fairly sure practice is about to end, and you’re worried about someone else seeing you and misunderstanding, so you vow to make it quick, pulling out the cute pink envelope with the heart shaped sticker sealing it out of your bag as you make your way to the infamous Itoshi Sae’s locker.

As you hold up the envelope, ready to slide it through the crack of the locker, you pause, realizing with shame that you forgot to write Suki’s name on it.

“God, I’m stupid.” You think, pausing to fish a pen out of your backpack pocket, annoyed that you almost let yours, and Suki’s by default, hard work go to waste.

You click your pen, holding the note up against the locker to write on it, when someone behind you clears their throat and you feel your heart drop to your ass.

With fear in your heart, you freeze, before slowly moving to turn around, to see the tall male behind you, with red hair and unamused teal eyes.

Well, fuck me.

You can feel your entire body overheating in pure embarrassment as the infamous Itoshi Sae looks down at you with a critical eye, and suddenly you wish you never wore those stupid ribbons in your hair as you think about how cliche you must look with a stupid pink love confession in your hands.

Desperately, you part your mouth to speak, to say anything, but nothing comes out and you end up gaping at him like an idiot before you finally get the sense to close it.

“Kill me now.” Your thought’s echo in your head.

He either takes pity on you or is tired of you blocking his locker, (you’re leaning more towards the latter) so he decides to take the reins of the conversation for you.

“That for me?” He questions, raising a brow, nodding towards the envelope, and finding yourself wishing that he wasn’t conventionally attractive as you felt yourself wanting to melt.

Now logically, you could have said no, and that you were just planning to give it to someone else and used his locker to finish the details, and that you were very sorry for getting in his way. Or better yet, just the truth, that yes, it was a letter for him but that you were delivering this letter for a friend.

But you weren’t logical right now, you were a hot, flustered mess, and all your thoughts jumbled together.

So, although you wanted to say, “No, I’m sorry, it’s for someone else.” or “Yes, but I’m delivering this for my friend.” Instead you said:

“Yes! I’m sorry! Bye!” Thrusted the letter into his chest, and ran off like you were insane.

When you finally make it back home, you immediately text-scream into the collective group chat about the entire incident and flop onto your bed, before actually screaming into your pillow.

Your brother looks at you like you’ve grown two heads but you simply just raise your head from the pillow to give him a look that says “You don’t wanna know.” so he takes the hint and moves along.

When you finally open up the group chat again, you find Naomi and Suki have spammed you with laughing crying emojis like a couple of assholes.

After they tease you for a bit and Naomi tells you that, “this is why you should never help Suki” you apologize to Suki for accidentally stealing her confession, to which she assures you is okay, because apparently she’s found new love in the cute guy who delivered her her homework today.

If you could, you would strangle her, and you tell her so to which she replies with a kissy heart emoji.

Well, embarrassing experience aside, it’s not completely awful, after all, Sae will just ignore you like every other person who confessed to him and then you’ll be fine, all you have to do is avoid him for your own sake so you don’t die of embarrassment.

It also happened to be the weekend, so there was no possible way that he would even remember your face if what you heard about him was true… so really, you were completely fine.

And with that comforting thought, you slowly unwind, ready to make the most of the weekend.

—

But of course, it’s you, so everything isn’t completely fine and you find that out the hard way when school ends on Monday and you’re left alone in the classroom packing up.

You would have left around the same time as everyone else, but your homeroom teacher had asked you to quickly print off some sheets for her and leave them on her desk before you left, and being a pushover, a nice person, you agreed and did your task, quickly texting Naomi and Suki to leave before you as you were gonna run a bit late anyways.

But maybe if you hadn’t done any of that, then you would have been spared from the absolute bullshit that was motherfucking Itoshi Sae, walking into your goddamn classroom.

Suddenly, as you stare at him in confusion, embarrassment and dare you even say horror, you want to die again.

“Hey, maybe he just needs to talk to the teacher?” Your helpful mind supplies, giving you a smidgen of hope.

“(Last Name), (Name), right?” Sae almost responds in turn, walking over to you, crushing your dreams immediately.

Would it be rude of you to excuse yourself by throwing yourself out the window? You briefly consider it, but decide on nodding instead, feeling the familiar heat of mortification envelop you, as he stops in front of you.

Well, it’s not so bad to be rejected you suppose, especially if you don’t even really have feelings for the person you “confessed” to. Still, you can’t help but worry about the possible verbal ass whooping you might receive, Naomi’s warning now starting to worry you.

However, instead of brutally murdering you with words, when he opens his mouth something different comes out.

“I’ve seen you at my games sometimes.” He says, shocking you to your very core.

“You have?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice, not realizing that Sae would have noticed anything outside of the game with the skill he played with, much less you of all people.

“It’s hard to miss you.” He replies, gesturing to your ribbons, and you make a quick mental note to burn every single ribbon in your possession after this.

“Ah, right.” You end up saying, laughing nervously. “Just didn’t think you’d notice me with everything going on.”

Awkward, awkward, awkward, you’d ask for someone to relieve you from this pain, but at the rate these few days are going you know you’re being silly.

As they say, if you want something done you have to do it yourself, so after taking a deep breath, you rip the metaphorical bandaid off.

“So.. uhm, is this the part where you reject me?” You ask, closing your eyes to shield yourself from his reaction.

“...”

“...”

The room falls silent again, at your words and you start to wish you hadn’t spoken until you hear him speak again.

“...I guess you were always like that.” He says, more to himself than you, and the strangeness of his words has you opening your eyes in confusion.

“Even when I read the letter, it was the same as seeing you in the stands.” He continues, eyes glinting some emotion you can’t quite make out, but honestly you’re more surprised that it isn’t one of annoyance, based on what you’ve seen. 

“...I’m sorry?” You ask, trying to figure out if you’re being subtly insulted.

He looks at you, directly in the eyes, his own teal ones piercing and sharp, and you prepare yourself a second time for a verbal smackdown.

Like last time, it doesn’t come, but funnily enough you still have the wind knocked out of you when he does decide to reply.

“You’re cute.” He states coolly, like it means nothing to him.

Meanwhile, you’ve ceased to function for a solid 5 seconds, trying to figure out where and why and how any of this happened, the heat of embarrassment now strong enough that if any particularly cruel person decided to egg you at your current state, they’d likely find themselves with a well cooked sunny side up.

“...huh?” You finally, rather intelligently, respond. 

He huffs out a breath, one you would have thought might be of annoyance had you not seen his eyes crinkle in amusement.

“‘Said you were cute.” He bluntly repeats again, knocking the wind out of you again, like it was nothing, and it probably was to him.

“That’s not what I was questioning!” You scream in your mind, but your mouth, stupidly says:

“Th-thanks, you too?”

If the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, you don’t think you’d be too terribly angry actually.

Despite the absolute cringe-fest you’re being, Sae seems to find it more amusing, (and apparently endearing?), rather than pathetic and rewards you with an unfairly attractive chuckle that makes you want to collapse on the spot from a heart attack.

“You're welcome.” He replies, humoring your flustered reply with an actual response, before continuing. “You know, there’s a pretty good ice cream shop close to the football field, we should go.”

“...Yeah?” You question weakly, so utterly confused by this interaction that you’ve given up on following the flow of it.

“Yeah.” He answers, with a small smile, that previously you wouldn’t have believed existed, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear in a move that has you freezing in place.

“I’ll see you at my next practice then, (Name).” He says, pulling his hand back and leaving no room for argument, and all you can do is dumbly nod back at him.

It’s only when he leaves, when you see his back retreating, the same one you stare at in games, that you can finally process what the hell just happened in the span of what seems like eternity but was actually just 3 minutes.

And when you finally do, you look over at your teacher, who finally has come back and seems confused that you’re still here, your face still flushed, and promptly pass out.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock sae #sae itoshi #sae x reader #sae x reader fluff #itoshi sae x reader #Shaa writing fluff?? more likely than you think #I'm not *completely* fucked up guys #just mostly #and yes i WOULD fuck Maruki from Persona 5

[starsh0cked]

i. may or may not have hit mienna with the redesign cannon. sorry

#kirby #kirby oc #mienna #this is what happens when i think about my characters for too long #her redesign mostly stems from the fact that she didn’t have that little bit of me i like to sprinkle on my ocs #and also just that the lack of pink disturbed me #this was also my chance to (somewhat?) update her overall character #bc i have stuff in mind for fluff scruff over here!! #which i will hopefully get down on paper at some point soon. augh #glitter in my ink

[sensitiveheartless]

Non-canon Howl AU doodles :D

#dazai can summon up just enough arm strength to dangle Chuuya off the ground cause he’s a menace #I felt kinda compelled to draw fluff after how angsty my last post was alskdjfj #I mostly colored them with my left hand lol #also sorry chapter 19 is taking so long—my hands are really making progress go at a snails pace #howl’s moving castle au #my art #bsd #soukoku #skk #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai

[kittykatninja321]

I went “I’m not into this but let’s hear them out” on one too many omegaverse fics and now I have thoughts and opinions and headcanons and shit. Horrifying. Please be careful it could happen to you

#Mads was right when she said omegaverse should be a psychological horror genre #platonic omegaverse is only slightly less horrifying than the romantic/sexual stuff #99% of the time when people are like ‘it’s for deconstructing sexism’ or whatever they’re lying it’s for weird wolf sex. However the tropes #that appear in platonic omegaverse fics are fascinatingly revealing in terms of people’s views on the nuclear family. Like idk how to #explain it I just know that the ‘family abolition’ people would have a field day with it. Horrifying implications it terms of familial abus #that go mostly unexplored. Most of the platonic stuff is just for fluff. I have seen it used effectively for horror one time #Omegaverse #<- for blacklist purposes

[honeycollectswhump]

Whumper's title

[masterlist]

It was the end of a lazy evening. Caretaker stretched as the credits of the last movie rolled. Whumpee was draped across her lap and had apparently fallen asleep somewhere during the movie. She wasn’t sure if he even witnessed the climax. Even asleep Whumpee had a soft smile on his lips; he seemed truly at peace. 

It hadn’t always been like that.

A year ago, serenity like this would have been unthinkable. Maybe he would have crawled into her lap if she ordered him to, but he wouldn’t have allowed himself to relax. He wouldn’t have been able to.

A year ago, he still called himself Pet or Mutt. He would beg for punishment, beg to be allowed necessities like sleep or food. But never for mercy because he’d thought he didn’t deserve it. 

A year ago, Whumpee didn’t even remember they lived together for years prior. 

But he did now, and that was all that mattered. God, how she had missed him and the time they spent together. Caretaker wanted to savor it all, savor every little moment she could spend with him.

With a smile playing on her lips, she brushed a stray piece of hair from his scarred face. She didn’t want to wake Whumpee up but she would have to. No matter how much she wanted it, they couldn’t spend the night like this. In the morning, his already aching back would trouble him even more. He was frankly too big for her couch, his feet already dangling over the side. With one hand she was playing with his soft curls, scratching the nape of his neck, and trying to grab the remote with the other – without success.

It had to be done. Caretaker softly whispered his name, tracing his jawline in an attempt to wake him up. He wouldn't budge.

“Whumpee”, the name came out as a soft chuckle. “Whumpee, you need to wake up.”

Again, nothing. 

This time she held him by his shoulders and started shaking him gently. Two bleary brown eyes stared up at her, blinking a couple of times. A sleepy groan escaped his lips as he struggled to sit upright. Somehow Caretaker doubted that Whumpee was truly awake.

She stood up and held her hand out to him. “Let’s get you to bed, big guy.”

Loosely, he took her hands and let himself be pulled up, almost immediately resting his head on top of hers. 

“Yes, Master”, he breathed into her hair. 

Caretaker could feel her blood running cold. She froze, waiting for any indication of what happened, any sign that Whumpee wasn’t feeling well. 

But he didn’t. He didn’t tense up or start shaking. He didn’t fall on his knees or stare at her in adoration and obedience or wait for her order. In fact, he didn’t seem to even realize what he’d said. Instead, he just nuzzled further into her locks, almost falling asleep on his feet. 

Slowly, she took a step backward, his hands still in hers, waiting to see if he’d follow. Whumpee shuffled along, although at a snail’s pace. Caretaker didn’t know whether to bring up what had happened but one look in his half-lidded eyes told her that any attempt at communication would just pass by him. Chances were he wouldn’t even remember how he got to bed in the morning. 

She took him upstairs where –at the sight of his own bed– he staggered forward and flopped down on his messy sheets. Caretaker followed him inside to tuck him in. While she was securing the blanket under his shoulders, Whumpee loosely grabbed one of her hands in his much bigger one and pressed it to his cheek. 

“G’night…”, he murmured into her hand. 

She couldn’t understand what he said after that and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

This is very much inspired by this post by @whumpadventureprompts (i couldn't find how you want to be tagged when people use your prompts so i hope this is alright)

#english isn't my first language so if you find any mistakes please tell me :) #this is beta-read by grammarly you can't fault me for anything :)) #i've been wanting to write something for this prompt for ages! glad i finally had the time #Holding Up The Sky #atlas/mutt (oc) #aveline king (oc) #honey's writing #past pet whump #pet whumpee #pet whump #recovering whumpee #deconditioning #recovery #caretaker new whumper #caretaker new master #whumpee thinks caretaker is new master #conditioned whumpee #whumpee and caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #honestly this is mostly just fluff #big whumpee #comfort

[adrift-in-thyme]

@skyward-floored remember that anon asking about a birthday fic yesterday? That was me :D

I wrote you a little something to celebrate your special day! I hope you like it!

Happy Birthday!! 🎈🎉

Ao3 link

———————————

Normally, Warriors would leave a guy to think. After all, he knows better than anyone the way working in a group can become a bit…suffocating. Being constantly surrounded by people will grow inevitably exhausting. It’s only right for one to go off on their own, seeking out some blessed solitude.

So, normally, if he had come across a certain hero sitting beside a quaint little stream, he would leave him to his duck watching and his thoughts and collapse onto his bedroll. But he has just come upon a certain hero sitting by a quaint little stream and he looks so absolutely pitiful that Warriors swears that he’s impersonating a kicked puppy.

And he can’t just leave him there, all sad and hunched over and shivery.

(Time and Arty are right, he guesses, he’s a hopeless softy.)

So, he sets aside his dreams of turning in early and starts toward him.

“Rupee for your thoughts, rancher?” He calls once he is within hearing distance.

Twilight startles and turns, blinking rapidly as though that will free him from his daze. Warriors keeps an easy grin on his face as his eyes roam the hero, cataloging what he sees.

Flushed cheeks, a light sheen of sweat on the brow, tremors running through the body, a glazed look in the eyes…and now a painfully hoarse voice as the rancher croaks his name in greeting. The captain suppresses a sigh. There can’t be any doubt about it, the rancher is sick.

He should’ve seen that coming — honestly, he had, though he’d shoved the suspicion back behind countless other strategies and worries and tasks. But he knows he isn’t the only one who picked up on Twilight’s less than perky attitude these past days. He had lagged behind the rest of the group, opting to plod along beside Sky instead of his usual place by Wild’s side. And that alone had arisen Warriors’ suspicions.

But he doesn’t comment about all that just yet. Even when Twilight turns away from him to cough harshly into his elbow. Wordlessly, he settles down beside him.

“You alright, Twi?”

He sets a steadying hand on his back as the coughs subside. Twilight takes a minute to catch his breath, his shudders growing more violent. But the glare he dredges up is no less severe than his usual.

“I’m not sick if-if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Warriors chuckles. “Well, now I’m thinking maybe you are. Because I alluded to no such thing.”

Twilight hums, looking completely unconvinced. Warriors doesn’t miss the way he leans into his touch, however, or the way his next exhale trembles. And he certainly can’t ignore it when, surreptitiously, he moves closer.

“I should’ve brought a blanket,” Warriors comments, mildly, when a few quiet moments have slid by. “You seem a bit cold. Too bad I left my scarf back at the camp.”

Twilight huffs a sigh. It quickly turns into another explosion of coughs.

“You should be back at the camp,” he grumbles, when he can once again drag in air, “not hanging around me. You’re gonna catch somethin’.”

A smirk lifts Warriors’ lips. “Ah, but I could’ve sworn that I just heard you claim that you weren’t sick.”

He senses more than sees Twilight’s eyes go wide. Then, the rancher lets out an annoyed groan.

“I swear y-you’re as bad as the old man.”

“Oh no, I can be worse.”

Another series of shiver races through him and Twilight ends up slumped against Warriors’ left side, teeth chattering audibly.

“S-somehow…I can believe that.”

Warriors chuckles. Carefully, he slides an arm around Twilight, holding him close. The hero practically melts into him.

“It’s a beautiful night at least,” the captain murmurs, gazing up above them.

The sky glows with the beginnings of twilight. Orange and purple and pink travel in streaks of dazzling fire across a canvas of deep blue. Upon the water, the display wavers, like paints just barely mixed upon a palette.

The air is temperate too, a warm breeze blowing through like a caress. He can’t help but be thankful for it. He’s almost certain that they all have had to endure sickness in a less than forgiving climate. In such circumstances, things seldom go well.

(He can’t help but think of Mask’s tale, told haltingly late at night after a dreadful nightmare. A tale of climbing a mountain with frostbitten feet and fingers and collapsing shivering and feverish at the door of a blacksmith’s hut.)

“Captain,” Twilight pipes up beside him, the word sounding positively painful, “do…do you ever feel a certain sadness at this time of day?”

Warriors hums, dragging himself from his thoughts. Something about that sentence sparks a memory within him, of a princess of twilight with the body of an imp and a heart of gold kept carefully concealed.

“I suppose so. Why?”

Twilight is smiling slightly when he looks at him, and there is sorrow in the expression.

“There’s another realm out there…”

“The Twilight realm.”

Twilight starts up, feverish gaze landing on Warriors. The captain laughs.

“Yes, I know of it. I knew it’s princess, as a matter of fact. We fought together during the war.”

Suddenly, Twilight looks more alert than he has all night. But then he shudders again and nearly loses his balance. Warriors pulls him close again, wrapping him in a half-hug.

“Midna? Y-you knew Midna?”

“I did.” The captain smiles, fondly. “She was a ferocious fighter…and a good friend. Though” — A teasing grin lifts his lips as he looks down at his brother “ — I always wondered why she chose to ride a wolf of all things into battle.

“But it makes a little more sense now.”

Even through his pallor, he can see Twilight’s cheeks flush. His face is a hurricane of emotion that Warriors feels he has little right to see. So, he turns back to the pond and watches as twilight overtakes the light of day.

“Did-did she mention me at all?” Twilight murmurs, finally.

Warriors cocks his head, weighing which words are best.

“No — not to me at least. But I think Midna was one who liked to keep things close to the vest. I think the wolf she rode was her way of…saying that she missed you.”

Twilight is silent for a few moments. Quiet reigns over the small clearing, save for the sounds of the rancher’s slightly congested breathing.

He should get him back to camp, Warriors thinks, get him some warm blankets and a potion and maybe some of Wild’s soup. But Twilight speaks up before he can voice any of those thoughts.

“I’m glad you got to meet her.” There is a tremulous smile in those words, a strength that the rancher always possesses, even when his energy is drained. “She…she was really somethin’ else.”

“Indeed she was.”

Twilight moves closer, resting his head on Warriors’ shoulder, and Warriors can’t help but feel that some unseen boundary has been broken from between them. Perhaps, this secret had weighed more heavily on the rancher than he had thought.

Well, that and the uncertainty of the princess’ feelings for him. That shattered mirror Twilight had spoken of hadn’t been the only thing broken.

“You know,” he says, as Twilight’s eyelids begin to droop, “next time you’re sick and missing your girlfriend, maybe just talk to someone instead of sitting out here all miserable and alone. I know a certain someone would call you an idiot for doing so.”

Twilight chuckles.

“She would, wouldn’t she?” He chokes out between hacking coughs. “She never held back.”

“No, she really didn’t.”

Warriors holds his trembling shoulders until the coughs are gone again. Then, he pats his shoulder.

“Alright, rancher, let’s get you back. You need your rest.”

Reluctantly, Twilight allows the captain to help him to his feet. He leans heavily against him, exhaustion dragging at his feet. And as the first star blinks itself awake, Warriors turns them toward the warmth of the campfire and their brothers’ company.

The shadows themselves seem to gather in their wake, a protection and an embrace.

#idk when your actual birthday is #but I know it must be close since December’s nearly over #so I thought I’d just publish this now #trin writes #ficlet #linked universe #linked universe fic #lu twilight #lu warriors #sick fic #hurt/comfort #light angst #fluff #midlink #mostly just implied but still

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Just Up the Stairs

On Valentine's Day, amidst the chaos of handling work and university deadlines as a mature student, Crowley seeks solace with his neighbour Aziraphale. As they share a meal, their long-standing friendship begins to unravel, revealing hidden feelings they've harboured for six months. It's a night that could change everything.

Length: 39,147 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, After Dark, Human AU, Romance, Fluff

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by foolishlovers, ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia

*Minor Spoilers* Today is Trans Visibility Day, and so I have finally gone back to a story that I have been meaning to reread for a while now! This is a beautiful, sweet, and tender romance story written by two writers and one incredibly talented artist who all have done so much to bring affirming and celebratory trans depictions to the Good Omens fandom.

In this story, Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbors. Crowley is trans and an older student trying to finish his Architecture degree, and Aziraphale dreams of owning his own bookshop one day. The pair meet for weekly grocery shopping trips, where a shy friendship starts, and they bond over music together. As a side tangent, the use of music in this story remains one of my favorite parts. I just love human stories that let Aziraphale be a little modern. Their music selections were great, and I loved the atmosphere and intimacy it let them develop. Sharing music with a love interest just does something to my heart!! Anyway, these two have been shyly circling each other for months, but fate has something planned for them this year's Valentine's Day.

Warm and unabashedly romantic, this first date of theirs is sprinkled with moments of comedic interruptions. I love the cast of characters as their other neighbors, and the adorable Harry the rabbit. Anathema was particularly fun. These asides draw out their night, making sure that they keep spending it in each other's company but also gives them time to reminisce on their past encounters. This story is so full of promise and charm; they are going to have such a loving future together. It's the perfect Valentine's fantasy.

Most of this story is safe in public, however, the last chapter is not! That one you'll want to save until you can savor it. It's the gorgeous lovemaking between two people who have really grown to know each other in the deepest ways possible. This is such a great story!! It effortlessly flows between writers, and the art included made my heart pitter-patter every time. Especially the nsfw one at the end, that had me full on blushing over here! Settle in with your coziest slippers for this lovely story.

Read it here, fic by foolishlovers, ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Just Up the Stairs #foolishlovers #ineffabildaddy #omens_for_ophelia #mostly safe in public #after dark #medium #human au #fluff #romance #five flames #pick me up #trans character