#kay’s autumn adventures
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cinnamon spice and everything (not so) nice - matt murdock x vigilante!reader
summary: the holiday season puts you in a baking mood before duty calls, and coming home tastes better than ever.
warnings: canon-typical violence, possessive!matt, unprotected p-in-v, shower sex, hints of what’s to come for our sweet kitten and devil
a/n: uNEDITED I’m lazy I’m sorry but this one was interesting to write!!! hints of what’s to come (not for a while but it wILL HAPPEN SOON I SWEAR) - my askbox is always open if you have theories 😏
🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂
Matt’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he’s used his kitchen.
Since you appeared on the scene, however — swooping your way into his life and deciding to stay, despite everything you’d both been through — the apartment is a test lab of sorts. Every night you’re over at his place, you’re trying out some new recipe, greeting him at the door with a wooden spoon coated in something, pushing it towards his mouth and telling him to taste. It’s only after he gives you his honest opinion that he gets his hello kiss, a smile on your mouth more often than not.
Spaghetti is a staple and is always a hit, along with all your variations and sauces. Same goes with pad thai, broccoli cheddar soup, and a ridiculously good ravioli thing that Matt’s still not sure you made correctly, but was delicious either way. He’s joked more than once that it’s a good thing you both spend your evenings taking down criminals and running across rooftops, otherwise he’d have traded his muscles for a paunch a long time ago.
“And I’d still want to fuck your brains out,” you’d chided, poking him in the stomach before grabbing his belt and hauling him towards you for a kiss.
He can always smell your cooking before he even steps out of the elevator, even more so when he takes the stairs, the scents mingling with the building air and hitting his nose as soon as he’s inside. He’s made a game of it, trying to figure out just what you’re making for dinner before he gets to his floor. Sometimes he’ll text you his guess from inside the elevator, waiting for your triumphant no! or confused yes? how did you guess that? once he steps through the door.
But today, he’s…confused.
The smell is different today. There’s nothing savoury about it, no salt or pepper or — your favourite — garlic powder permeating the air. No, no, today is different. Today is…sweet.
Matt inhales deeply as soon as he steps into the building, and the flavours explode on the back of his tongue. Cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, maple. It goes on and on, and he’s too distracted to even think about hitting the button for the elevator, keeping his cane handy in case he encounters anyone on the way up. No one crosses his path, however, and before you can even shout hello, he’s through the door and into the kitchen, sniffing the air like a hound dog, licking his lips as the flavours and smells grow more and more intense.
“You’ve been busy,” he laughs, and you just shrug.
“I had the day off,” you reply, and Matt steps up behind you, slipping his arms around your middle, setting his chin on your shoulder while you continue to roll out cookie dough. Everything just smells so good, he can feel the drool pooling on his tongue, and coupled with the familiar scent of you, he’s nearly a goner. “Foggy called earlier,” you continue, sucking a stripe off cinnamon off your knuckle before turning in Matt’s grasp, draping your arms around his shoulders. “He wants us to come over for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Uh-huh,” Matt mumbles, leaning in to kiss you. You taste like sugar, your already sweet mouth made doubly so. It sends him reeling. “So you decided to turn my apartment into a bakery?”
“I bake when I’m nervous,” you sigh, tilting your head back, accepting the kisses he drags down your throat. “And you know what tonight is.”
Matt stops short, trying to comb through his sugar-hazed mind. Tonight? Tonight, it’s late October, it’s Wednesday, it’s not your birthday, it’s not his birthday, and you don’t necessarily have an anniversary to speak of, not yet anyway, so what is tonight…?
Oh.
“I do know what tonight is,” Matt grumbles, the words spoken directly into your jugular, followed up with a little nip that makes you whine and smack his shoulder.
You are nothing if not persistent. In everything you do; your vigilantism, your day-job, your friendships, your love for him. He’s tried his best to keep you at arm’s length with what you both do in the dark, but he knows your patience has waned thin. For a while, taking it in shifts was the easiest, swapping out each night, the other staying behind, ready to tend to wounds and kiss bruised egos back to life. It worked, for a time, but the waiting, the pacing the apartment (his or yours, it didn’t matter) and just waiting for the other half of your heart to come back through the door — or window — it became too much. It was too hard, simply waiting, praying to whoever was listening to bring them back. Whole. Unbroken. Alive.
“Remind me again why we don’t cut the bullshit and protect the Kitchen together?” you’d asked, ever so casually, over breakfast one morning. You were nursing a nasty black eye, and Matt sputtered on his cereal, his cracked rib sending a twinge of pain up his spine.
“What?”
“If we did this together,” you continued, sipping your coffee. “If we worked together, instead of just waiting up for each other, we could actually get things done. Put the bad guys in cells. Protect our city.”
His hand turned into a fist on the table. “Kitten, don’t. You know what I—”
“I know exactly what you’re going to say,” you countered, reaching over and curling a hand around his wrist. “You’ve said it a million times, Matty. So, I have a proposal. One month from now, we go out on patrol together. You watch my back, I watch yours, for one night. One night, Matthew. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll drop it forever. But if it works, if we make as good of a team as I think we will, then you stop pushing back at me.” You squeezed his arm. “Deal?”
He bit back his objection. He knew you wouldn’t drop it otherwise, knew you didn’t care what else he had to say. It was obvious in the consistently steady beat of your heart; you hadn’t let yourself think about this turning into a fight. Your mind was made up, your proposal was perfectly logical, and there was no lawyering himself out of this one — not if he didn’t want to sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future.
“Deal.”
For a beat, Matt wishes he could go back in time and punch his past self in the face. It might hurt less than the instant knot of worry and fear that makes a home in his stomach, the sugary taste on his tongue turning sickly sweet. He buries his face further into your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you that lurks beneath the cinnamon and brown sugar.
“We had a deal, Matthew,” you murmur, lifting one hand and threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You promised.”
“I did,” he replies, the words spoken into the hollow of your throat. “We go together. I promised.”
It’s late by the time you head out into the city. The kitchen is mostly clean, the scent of baked goods still drenching every inch of the apartment, and Matt can still taste the toffee from the cookies you made, the sweetness lingering on the back of his tongue. He’s stoic and silent as you prepare, suits zipped and weapons fastened, masks donned and courage mustered. He’s antsy as you head up the stairs to the roof entrance, the sounds of your footfalls echoing loud in his ears.
You reach for the door handle, and Matt grabs your wrist. “You stay close to me, understand?” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers lightly. “And if I tell you to run, you run.”
“Matt, this isn’t—”
“Kitten,” he chides, his grip growing tighter. “I promised you. Now it’s your turn.”
He hears the hard swallow you take, the huff of your breath before he feels the heat on his chin. “Fine. I promise.”
+
Everything goes fine, really.
Until it doesn’t.
Until you’re pinned down in an alleyway, both of you with your backs to bricks, multiple guns pointed in your direction, more thugs than you’ve faced alone crowding you further down the alley. You’re both worse for wear, busted knuckles and a few ribs, a steady drip of blood down the side of your face, and Matt’s lip is split in at least three places. He’s positioned himself in front of you, his body angled in such a way that he’s mostly blocking you. Your heart is in your throat, and you’re sure he can hear it.
This is bad.
You know Matt’s faced worse, at this point. Everything that happened at Midland Circle, everything leading up to it. Your resume pales in comparison, and you’d never dream of trying to take down an operation like this on your own, but you didn’t anticipate this many men. Or this man guns.
You’re fast, but you can’t outrun a bullet. You’ve tried, and you have the scars to prove it.
“The fire escape,” Matt murmurs, so low you can barely hear him. “To the left. When I signal, you run.”
“But—”
“Kitten.”
The tone sends a shiver down your spine. It’s the same one he’d used when you started to protest back at the apartment. Everything in you is screaming not to go, but before you can, he’s sprinting towards a dumpster, using all his weight to push it towards the group of men. Bullets start to fly, ricocheting off brick and metal, and, knowing Matt is safe enough tucked behind the dumpster, you curse under your breath and sprint up the fire escape, just as he’d asked.
You don’t look back, heart in your throat and blood thundering through your ears as you sprint up the steps. Metal clangs beneath your boots, and as you near the top of the building, you have enough wherewithal to realize that there’s a second set of footsteps below you.
Please God, if you’re listening, let it be Matt. Please, please. please.
You roll onto the gravel roof as soon as you’re over the edge of the fire escape, scrambling against the brick, heaving breaths and trying to suck down more oxygen. You hear another panted breath behind you and spin to your feet, reaching for the weapon at your belt.
Before you can make another move, a large hand wraps itself around your throat, hauling you up and to your feet, boots scraping on the gravel, your back shoved hard against brick a moment later. “You think you can outrun us, little bitch?” the man spits. You’re scrabbling against his grip, trying to claw at his wrist, his arm, his face, anything you can reach. Your feet kick like mad, vision blurring at the edge as his grip goes tighter. No, no, no, no, please God, no. All you can hear is the sound of your own choked sputtering, see the gruesome face of your attacker, feel the life slowly draining from you.
This cannot be the end. Not after everything. Not like this.
The grip goes slack, and you fall to the gravel in a heap, your body immediately trying to get as much oxygen as humanly possible, the blurriness giving way to little black dots that dance across your vision. You lay there for a moment, palm pressed to your chest. You’re alive.
There’s shouting, from the other side of the roof, and you struggle to sit up, head turning in time to see Matt being shoved to his knees by your attacker, punch after punch delivered to his face, blood pouring down his cheeks, staining the front of his suit an even darker shade of red. His billy club lies on the ground a few feet from the pair of them, and you scramble forward on your knees, your body quaking in protest as you haul yourself up.
You shout loud as you crack the club across the back of the man’s head, but he barely flinches, large frame turning from Matt and back to you. You try to will the fear away, but the feeling of his hand around your throat comes back, a phantom ache that makes your breath come shorter.
“Little bitch!” he shouts, and goes to lunge for you, but before he can, Matt swoops in from the side, shoving his shoulder into the man’s middle, sending him wheeling backwards.
Right over the edge of the roof.
You both face each other as the sound echoes up from the alley below. Your chest is heaving, breaths wispy and thin. You feel lightheaded, and Matt notices, moving to step beside you as you collapse into him, curling your hand into whatever part of his suit you can. He slips an arm around your waist. “Home,” he breathes out, the word thick with blood that he spits onto the gravel. “Now.”
You can’t bring yourself to voice your agreement, nodding as you lean your head on his shoulder. He smells like copper.
“Is he dead?” you ask as he pulls you across the roof.
A pause, head cocked to the side. “He’ll live.”
“Matt.”
“He will.”
Something feels different as you slowly make your way back to Matt’s apartment. It’s not tension between you, per se, but something different, something more tangible, something almost desperate as Matt nearly carries you through the rooftop entrance. He stops at the bottom of the steps, forces you to sit, and pulls your feet into his lap one at a time, unlacing your boots and pulling them off, setting them aside.
Blood is still leaking from his nose, and you’re worried it might be broken, but he doesn’t flinch when you reach out to wipe the red from his cupid’s bow. “You took the brunt of it,” you say, your voice hoarse and scratchy, and he tosses your second boot to the side, reaching up and pulling his helmet off.
“I had to,” he replies, hair a mess as he lets the helmet fall to the floor. “He was trying to kill you.”
There’s a glimmer in those bottomless eyes as they move in your direction, something feral and uncanny that you’ve never seen before. His lashes flutter as he blinks slowly, gaze turning glassy as he reaches for your hand, takes it between both of his, swipes his thumb across your busted knuckles.
“I won’t let that happen.”
His voice nearly cracks on the last word, and you hook your fingers in the front of the suit, leaning up with what little strength you have left and brushing a soft kiss across his lips, careful of the splits in his skin. “I know you won’t, Matty.”
He’s quiet as he helps you to your feet, quieter as he leads you into the bathroom, turns on the shower so hot that the steam fills the room quickly. Silent as he undresses himself, bloodied suit laying in a heap on the floor, your own — dirty and dust-covered — joining it a moment later. Noiseless as you step under the spray together, take turns washing the dirt and blood from each other. The steam eases the ache in your chest, makes your breaths come a bit easier, and after you’re both clean, Matt pushes you against the tile, pushes your knees apart with his thigh, and kisses you hard.
You squeak in surprise, one hand grabbing his shoulder, the other threading in his hair as his body moulds itself against yours. You can feel every inch of him, scars and muscle and wet skin. The prod of his cock against the inside of your thigh, the gentle scratch of his body hair against you.
He kisses you hard, and his tongue tastes like toffee. It makes you laugh, the awful juxtaposition of the duelling sides of your life. The light and the dark, the normal and the uncanny. But there, no matter where you look: Matt Murdock, Daredevil, man of your dreams, owner of your heart.
“Kitten,” he whispers against your lips, hands roaming your body gently. He skims your thigh, hooks his hand around the back of your knee and hikes your leg over his hip. Pleasure spikes as he rolls his body into yours, friction in all the right places, and your head tips back against the tile. “Please, I…”
“Tell me, Matty,” you reply, breathing fast as his other hand glances down your front, tweaking your nipple before fitting into the curve of your waist. “What do you need?”
“I need you safe,” he groans, dropping his hips enough that his cock slides between your folds, the water easing his thrust, teasing and slow. “I need you beside me.” He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly before releasing it, mouthing along the edge of your jaw. “I need to be inside you.”
“Uh-huh,” you mumble out, bliss climbing, replacing whatever fear you’ve encountered, whatever stress and tension you’ve accumulated dissipating as your body screams: Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt. “I want that too.”
“Such a good kitten,” he murmurs, the tip of his nose dragged along the underside of your jaw. He’s pointedly avoiding your throat, and you can tell, but you don’t mind. He squeezes your hip. “My perfect girl.” Another teasing thrust, making your breath hitch high, hand moving from his shoulder to his bicep, squeezing tight. “Let me fuck you, please.”
You just nod again, your head falling forward, jaw hinging open as he angles himself and pushes deep into you. It’s slow, like the rest of it, drawn out and almost excruciating, the drag of him inside you sending your nerves into a frenzy, rushes of pleasure just teetering on the edge of pain.
A few thrusts, and he’s reaching for your other thigh, holding one in each hand, lifting you against the tile as he starts to drive into you. You throw your arms around his neck, cheek pressed to the top of his head as his lips attach to your collarbone, teeth scraping and lips sucking.
It’s a moment before you realize he’s talking, his voice low and husky.
“Mine.”
The word, over and over and over again, your name interspersed, in perfect time with his thrusts, the sound of his skin against yours barely audible over the rush of the water. The heat is almost too much, and you can feel yourself teetering on that edge already, your exhausted body leaping towards the peak of pleasure.
A particularly deep thrust has the ridge of his stomach glancing against your clit, and you’re a goner. He’s not far behind you, growling his way through his orgasm, that familiar warmth only he can provide spreading through you. The water’s starting to go from hot to warm, cold not too far off, as you come down, Matt slipping out of you with a groan and letting you down, holding you close as you right yourself on shaky knees.
Just as the water starts to go cold, he grabs your jaw, turns your face towards him, kisses you rough.
“Mine.”
—————
matt murdock taglists will be rb’d!
#matt murdock#kay’s autumn adventures#cinnamon spice and everything (not so) nice#my fics#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x reader#daredevil x vigilante!reader#daredevil x you#daredevil smut#daredevil x reader#daredevil#the kitten and the devil
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Mid-Autumn and Mooncakes
With the Mid-Autumn Festival coming up at the end of September, mooncakes have been on my mind. Several conversations have revolved around the festival and food in my real life and on social media so I started wondering if there were YA books for that. And yes indeed, here are a few books featuring the moon or mooncakes that I've read or have on my TBR.
Retellings Related to the Moon
An Arrow to the Moon by Emily X.R. Pan
Little, Brown Books For Young Readers
Hunter Yee has perfect aim with a bow and arrow, but all else in his life veers wrong. He’s sick of being haunted by his family’s past mistakes. The only things keeping him from running away are his little brother, a supernatural wind, and the bewitching girl at his new high school.
Luna Chang dreads the future. Graduation looms ahead, and her parents’ expectations are stifling. When she begins to break the rules, she finds her life upended by the strange new boy in her class, the arrival of unearthly fireflies, and an ominous crack spreading across the town of Fairbridge.
As Hunter and Luna navigate their families’ enmity and secrets, everything around them begins to fall apart. All they can depend on is their love… but time is running out, and fate will have its way.
Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan
Harper Voyager
Growing up on the moon, Xingyin is accustomed to solitude, unaware that she is being hidden from the feared Celestial Emperor who exiled her mother for stealing his elixir of immortality. But when Xingyin’s magic flares and her existence is discovered, she is forced to flee her home, leaving her mother behind.
Alone, powerless, and afraid, she makes her way to the Celestial Kingdom, a land of wonder and secrets. Disguising her identity, she seizes an opportunity to learn alongside the emperor's son, mastering archery and magic, even as passion flames between her and the prince.
To save her mother, Xingyin embarks on a perilous quest, confronting legendary creatures and vicious enemies across the earth and skies. But when treachery looms and forbidden magic threatens the kingdom, she must challenge the ruthless Celestial Emperor for her dream—striking a dangerous bargain in which she is torn between losing all she loves or plunging the realm into chaos.
A captivating debut fantasy inspired by the legend of Chang'e, the Chinese moon goddess, in which a young woman’s quest to free her mother pits her against the most powerful immortal in the realm. Daughter of the Moon Goddess begins an enchanting, romantic duology which weaves ancient Chinese mythology into a sweeping adventure of immortals and magic—where love vies with honor, dreams are fraught with betrayal, and hope emerges triumphant.
Mooncakes
Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu
Oni Press [Jessica's Review]
A story of love and demons, family and witchcraft.
Nova Huang knows more about magic than your average teen witch. She works at her grandmothers' bookshop, where she helps them loan out spell books and investigate any supernatural occurrences in their New England town.
One fateful night, she follows reports of a white wolf into the woods, and she comes across the unexpected: her childhood crush, Tam Lang, battling a horse demon in the woods. As a werewolf, Tam has been wandering from place to place for years, unable to call any town home.
Pursued by dark forces eager to claim the magic of wolves and out of options, Tam turns to Nova for help. Their latent feelings are rekindled against the backdrop of witchcraft, untested magic, occult rituals, and family ties both new and old in this enchanting tale of self-discovery.
When You Wish Upon a Lantern by Gloria Chao
Viking
Liya and Kai had been best friends since they were little kids, but all that changed when a humiliating incident sparked The Biggest Misunderstanding Of All Time—and they haven’t spoken since.
Then Liya discovers her family's wishing lantern store is struggling, and she decides to resume a tradition she had with her beloved late grandmother: secretly fulfilling the wishes people write on the lanterns they send into the sky. It may boost sales and save the store, but she can't do it alone . . . and Kai is the only one who cares enough to help.
While working on their covert missions, Liya and Kai rekindle their friendship—and maybe more. But when their feuding families and their changing futures threaten to tear them apart again, can they find a way to make their own wishes come true?
Fake Dates and Mooncakes by Sher Lee
Underlined
Dylan Tang wants to win a Mid-Autumn Festival mooncake-making competition for teen chefs—in memory of his mom, and to bring much-needed publicity to his aunt’s struggling Chinese takeout in Brooklyn.
Enter Theo Somers: charming, wealthy, with a smile that makes Dylan’s stomach do backflips. AKA a distraction. Their worlds are sun-and-moon apart, but Theo keeps showing up. He even convinces Dylan to be his fake date at a family wedding in the Hamptons.
In Theo’s glittering world of pomp, privilege, and crazy rich drama, their romance is supposed to be just pretend . . . but Dylan finds himself falling for Theo. For real. Then Theo’s relatives reveal their true colors—but with the mooncake contest looming, Dylan can’t risk being sidetracked by rich-people problems.
Can Dylan save his family’s business and follow his heart—or will he fail to do both?
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The ninja but as seasons:
Obviously Zane gets winter because ice yknow. But also one of Zane’s reoccurring themes is home, and his arcs revolve around him being lost or going missing and having to find his home, his family. Winter is often the time when people go home to visit loved ones, when things get colder and harder, people often keep each other close to face that cold together.
Kai is autumn, his fire connected to how people have to light candles and hearths, as the days get colder and the nights get longer, and fire becomes more valuable. Kai is a protective character, hardened by his losses in the same way leaves are more vibrant when they fall, and stars shine brightest before they burn out.
Jay is summer, the time when thunderstorms are most frequent, due to the heat of the sun producing clouds. As the water particles rise, they collide with each other producing lightning, just like how Jay had to rise from unseemly backgrounds (growing up in a junkyard) to becoming a protector of Ninjago. Summer is associated with adventure and travel which relates to Jay’s own journey out of his comfort zone.
Cole is spring, like the earth that is revealed underneath the ice and snow that serves as the foundation for new growth. Spring comes after winter and brings forth new life, just like how Cole brought new strength especially after the loss of his mother.
Additionally, the remaining two ninja can be associated with times of day, day and night.
Nya is like the moon in the night, it’s pull controls the tides, and it’s always changing shape and form, waxing and waning just like how Nya changes form and roles in the ninja. And like Kai’s fire, the moon and Nya are guiding figures during the dark of night. She kept her identity as samurai x hidden just like the many mysteries kept in the dark.
Lloyd is like the sun in the day, a symbol of hope across the world, the sun providing the planet with energy and life. He rises like the sun after the darkness and as the sun affects all the seasons, Lloyd is connected to each of the ninja, being the one that keeps them all turning.
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Outside of the 3 original princesses, do you have any Disney favorites? By that I mean favorite character, favorite vocal performance, favorite song, favorite movie, etc? (Apologies if you have answered these questions before.)
Yes, I have many, many, many! I'll also exclude The Little Mermaid, as the original four princess movies are equally my favorite but! For more broad answers:
Favorite character: since i always talk about female characters, i'll switch it up and do a male character! hercules is my entire heart
Favorite vocal performance: again i'm going to try to say something that isn't obvious but i think 'my own home' from jungle book is captivating and kathryn beaumont is a certified genius
Favorite song: i bring you a song from bambi makes my heart smile and is the essence of romance imo
Favorite movie: hmmm i like so many like fantasia, bambi...but perhaps fun and fancy free??? ichabod toad? i really don't know, i like so many
But also, just for general appreciation:
pinocchio is a BEACON of light and so fascinating. i love the rich european setting and the original colors- especially the use of red- and the blue fairy is genuinely captivating. i love the realistic characterizations and the artistry is unsurpassed imo
fantasia's fairies might be the peak of filmmaking for me and i love the inclusion of classical music.
dumbo is so heart warming and i love the emphasis on his mother even though it makes me cry and i think pink elephants on parade is a bop and i love the way they included it in fantasmic
bambi is GENIUS, as i mentioned above i love the song so much but i really just think it's the spirit of filmmaking and is so real and authentic and i think it'll survive as a film until the end of time
fun and fancy free has really great water animation and cloud scenes in the bear segment but also mickey and the beanstalk is so much fun from start to finish
melody time has once upon a wintertime, which makes it have merit as a film, and i looove frances langford's voice
the adventures of ichabod and mr. toad gave us katrina and brom bones and FOR THAT i salute this film. i love the music and the old american town and like the halloween influence and the mansion and just. everything so much about it. it really is like feeling the crisp autumn air. i love the miniature scale homes of the animals in the toad segment- it's so comforting
alice in wonderland. just everything about it
peter pan - where do i even begin. the music is a religious experience, marc davis's work on tinker bell's walk is LEGENDARY, but also i was sooo intrigued by the mermaids and their design as a child. it's the high point of the film for me. i love love LOVE kathryn beaumont's wendy and mrs. darling is so dear
lady and the tramp is a movie that's so cozy- i absolutely love the smalltown american vibes and the moment with the spaghetti is iconic for GOOD reason
101 dalmatians deserves to exist for anita and anita alone
sword in the stone is a film i loved as a child. madam mim was fun to me and she freaks me out now, though i do love her attractive form, ngl i kinda think kay is cute, and i LOVE archimedes and merlin is a top disney character for me
the aristocats ALL the female characters <333
robin hood gave us lady kluck is one of my top ten characters of all time. she gave us everything and she has yet to receive her flowers
winnie the pooh is cute
the rescuers has such an intriguing voice in miss bianca and, again, the miniature animal homes are comforting to me. i love how underground and gritty it feels
the black cauldron is an amazing experimental film that is sooo gorgeous
beauty and the beast is worth it for me because i love mrs. potts, i love the bimbettes, i think adam is intriguing, and gaston is a fav
pocahontas has one of the best soundtracks but also can we talk about NAKOMA
hercules maybe has top 5 art but also hercules as a character is someone i love so much it makes my heart physically hurt :(
mulan- i love the connections people make with her and shang being bi is pretty much is everything
princess and the frog gave us a wonderful design for tiana
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𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒛𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
1980s Horror Film - Wallows
Alone in the Woods - Michal Novinski
Always Forever - Cults
Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex
Apparition on the Train - John Williams
As The World Falls Down - David Bowie
Aunt Marge's Waltz - John Williams
Autumn Town Leaves - Iron & Wine
Aventine - Agnes Obel
Ballad Of Mr Jones - Jake Bugg
Big Black Car - Gregory Alan Isakov
Black Dog - Led Zeppelin
The Boat of the Fragile Mind - Belle Mare
A Brief History of Time - Jóhann Jóhannsson
Buckbeak's Flight - John Williams
Captain Goddamn - Michal Novinski
Captain Goddamn's Story - Michal Novinski
Cemetry Gates - The Smiths
The Chain - Fleetwood Mac
Chord Left - Agnes Obel
The Curse - Agnes Obel
Cursed - Lord Huron
Damn Right - Mickey Driskill
Dance With The Fish - Bruni Coulais
Dandelion Wine - Gregory Alan Isakov
Dead Man's Hand - Lord Huron
Dirty Paws - Of Monsters and Men
Eleanor Rigby - Cody Fry
Endless Story About Sun and Moon - Kai Engel
Entering - Michal Novinski
Fallingforyou - The 1975
Fellowship - Thomas Newman
Finale - John Williams
Flaws - Bastille
Flood - Michal Novinski
Fortune Teller - Mickey Driskill
Forward to Time Past - John Williams
The French Library - Franz Gordon
Full Moon - The Kinks
Gold Dust Woman - Fleetwood Mac
Good Looking - Suki Waterhouse
Hagrid the Professor - John Williams
Harvest Moon - Lord Huron
Head Credits - Bruno Coulais
Holocene - Bon Iver
Home - Dotan
I'm a WolfWalker - Bruno Coulais
Infinite Love - Emile Mosseri
In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier
It Will Come Back - Hozier
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
journey in the rain to cry in peace - joiboi
K. - Cigarettes After Sex
The Key In The Sea - Bruno Coulais
Kids - OneRepublic
Kuky Phones Home - Michael Novinski
Kuky's Adventures - Michael Novinski
Landscape With a Fairy - aspidistrafly
Lanterns Lit - Son Lux
Lily Of The Valley - Queen
Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons
Living Room - Grouper
Lonesome Hunter - Timber Timbre
Love Like Ghosts - Lord Huron
Love Waltz - Marcuzio Pianist
Lumos! (Hedwig's Theme) - John Williams
Me And The Devil - Soap&Skin
The Meetings of the Waters - Fionn Regan
Meet Me In The City - Lord Huron
Meet Me in the Morning - Bob Dylan
Meet Me in the Woods - Lord Huron
Mélancolie - Patric Watson, Safia Nolin
Melody Noir - Patric Watson
Mischief Managaged! - John Williams
Moment's Silence - Hozier
Monster Books and Boggarts - John Williams
My Tunnels Are Long And Dark These Days - Asaf Avidan
Nevermore - Queen
Not Dead Yet - Lord Huron
Nothing's Here - Michael Novinski
Once Upon a Dream - Lana Del Rey
The Patronus Light - John Wiliams
Phantoms and Friends - Old Man Canyon
The Pink Room - Timber Timbre
Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want - The Dream Academy
Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want - The Smiths
Poison Tree - Grouper
Poppy Field - Michael Novinski
The Portrait Gallery - John Williams
Proof - Michael Novinski
Punisher - Phoebe Bridgers
Renegades - X Ambassadors
Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac
Ribs - Lorde
Riding Into Town - Gun Thunder
rises the moon - Liana Flores
Rosyln - Bon Iver, St. Vincent
Run - Bruno Coulais
Run - Hozier
Run Cried the Crawling - Agnes Obel
Sadness - Bruno Coulais
Saving Buckbeak - John Williams
The Seals - Bruno Coulais
Secrets of the Castle - John Williams
Sedated - Hozier
September Song - Agnes Obel
Setting Sun - Lord Huron
Shortline - RY X
Sit Down Beside Me - Patric Watson
Something French - Devendra Banhart
Something Is Wrong - Bruno Coulais
Some Things Cosmic - Angel Olsen
Somewhere Tonight - Beach House
Squirrel Rescue - Mike Higham
The Storm - Bruno Coulais
Swinging Party - The Replacements
Team - Lorde
Thief - Imagine Dragons
Time Passing II - Mark Isham
Time's Blur - Lord Huron
To Be Alone - Hozier
Trees and Flowers - Strawberry Switchblade
The Trial - Michael Novinski
Under Giant Trees - Agnes Obel
Wait - M83
Way Down We Go - KALEO
We Don't Talk About It - Michael Novinski
The Werewolf Scene - John Williams
West Coast - Imagine Dragons
When the Night is Over - Lord Huron
Whisper of a Thrill - The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra
White Teeth Teens - Lorde
Who Are You - Bruno Coulais
The Whomping Willow - John Williams
Who We Are - Imagine Dragons
A Window to the Past - John Williams
Wiser - Old Man Canyon
Words Are Dead - Agnes Obel
A World Alone - Lorde
The World Ender - Lord Huron
The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron
you are welcome to let go - joiboi
#prisoner of azkaban#poa#harry potter#harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban#playlist#harry potter playlist#comfort playlist#aesthetic#dark aesthetic#gloomy
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One season at a time (SakuTaiTen)
Spring
Sakuya wouldn’t call himself adventurous, though he always did his best to try everything. One wouldn’t know otherwise, or he had always thought.
“Um, Taichi-kun, I don’t think-” His legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, trying to maintain the form on top of the skateboard. “Whoa!” He tries to figure out some resemblance of stability going slowly back and forth a couple more times before gravity tries again to roll him back to the pavement.
“Hold on, Sakkun!”
Taichi’s hands catch his elbows and hold him steady from behind. “You gotta tuck your elbows and head in.” he instructs. “Also, if you feel the speed is too wobbly, keep your upper body over the board and position slightly forward.”
“L-like this?”
“Yeah! Man, you look so cool!”
The spring member blushes, because if anything, Taichi is the one who does cool things in his opinion. "How did you get so good at this?" he asks curiously after a while.
He has always watched him skate at the dorm. Nothing too fancy, since Sakyo would have probably said something otherwise, but in Sakuya’s mind he was truly incredible. The backwards skating, the spins and jumps blew his mind everytime.
“Nah, I’m barely okay.” Taichi laughs embarrassed at the sudden compliment and scratches the back of his head. “You should see Ban-chan. He’s the real deal whenever he tags along!”
Sakuya hums, because it’s probably right since Banri is extremely athletic. However, part of him thinks that no matter how good he is, Banri’s eyes won’t really stare at the TV with sparkles in his eyes as he sees a person performing a cool trick like Taichi’s do.
He really likes it when that happens, because he likes Taichi’s eyes. Yeah, he would love to enjoy their warthm all the time.
“Whoah!” landing back to reality, Sakuya stumbles again, needing to support himself on the autumn member. He notices Taichi’s strong hold on him, and his heart skips a beat at the closeness. “I- sorry I got a little distracted. I-It won’t happen again!”
“It’s fine!” his voice doesn’t show any discomfort whatsoever. “You are doing amazing for your first time. Wanna take a break?”
Sakuya knows he’s probably just saying that so that he doesn’t get discourage, but there’s something about the energetic actor praising tone that makes him nod bashfully.
They leave the main part of the skate park and seat on one of the benches. As they do, Taichi looks around, soon finding the object of his search. “Sakkun! I’m gonna get us something to drink, kay? You stay seated and rest, I’ll be back in a second!”
“Ah, but it’s not necessary-” before he has time, the autumn member is already on his way to the vending machine. Without being able to argue, he sits back, using the time to take off the safety wear and helmet. While the place was a skatepark, many families and children walked by, allowing Sakuya to enjoy the distant voices and laughs.
He always hears Sakyo and Yuki sighing at the autumn member extreme energy, childness and clumsiness, but to Sakuya, Taichi felt like a breath of fresh air. His eagerness and genuine appreciation something he has gotten used to in his daily life, allowing him to forget years of side comments and fake, overly polite smiles. He looks down at the helmet, and caresses it affectionately.
The silence crumbles as soon as he hears a familiar voice echoing in the distance. Taichi runs from the other side of the park towards him, carrying two sodas on his right arm while he waves at him.
And while this makes people turn and many would have felt embarrassed at the scene, Sakuya waves back and smiles. And of course, the action make a grin appear on the autumn member, who lights up everything around and Sakuya’s own heart runs a whole marathon in the few moments it takes the blue-eyed actor to arrive.
People say he’s never selfish, but he if he had the opportunity, he would wish for Taichi to always look at him the way he did just now.
“Here!” the red-head gives him the drink before slumping on the bench. Suddenly, his hand reaches Sakuya’s head, patting his hair. It makes his brain go fuzzy -shivering under his soft touch.
“T-Taichi-kun…?”
“Ah, sorry! You had some cherry blossoms on your head from the trees.” He laughs, lowering his hand. Sakuya wished he didn’t -proving to himself that he is indeed quite selfish-. “You know, spring vibes totally suit you!”
Sakuya feels his cheeks burning at the compliment. Should he be proud, as the spring leader?
“Man, this was so much fun than skating alone! Let’s come again soon, what do you say?”
At the bright sight the blue-eyed teen shows, Sakuya’s chest thumps once again quicker than usual, though it always happens when Taichi is around.
Sakuya enjoys the feeling.
“I’d love to!”
Summer
“You’re gonna get a sunburn like that, you know.”
Sakuya barely has time to lift his head when a cap clouds his field of vision. He blinks under it, and chuckles as he takes it off. “Sorry Tenma-kun. Thanks!” he secures it on his head.
The summer troupe leader sighs and sits next to him on the courtyard, leaving a plastic bag between them both. “Omi-san brought ice cream for everyone. You like strawberry, right? Got you some before the others finished everything inside.”
“I do!” Sakuya confirms with a tone that matches the surprise and joy in his face. How’d you know? it sounds like, and Tenma chest rises slightly proud. “Thank you, Tenma-kun!”
Of course, the look he gets in return is a reward in and of itself. It lights up Sakuya’s eyes with a certain kind of softness that he wished was only for him. He opens his mouth and closes it right after, not really knowing what to say. Of course I know what you like. He then clears his throat. “So, what are you reading?”
“Ah! I found this book at the library when Muku and I went this morning.” Sakuya leaves the book on the young actor’s hands while he himself picks up the ice cream from the bag. “If you want I could lend it to you after I finish!”
Tenma reads the title and opens it, moving the pages and reading some lines here and there as Sakuya seems to enjoy the cold snack.
“Is this the novel for that play you went to see?”
“Yeah! I enjoyed it a lot so when I saw it I couldn’t help myself. Ah, this part is really good! It reminds me of…”
Sakuys gets closer, and of course their shoulders end up bumping against each other. And once again, Tenma is reminded that just like Sakuya’s warm smiles -ones he has come to know well- his warmth tends to spread throughout the width of his body too.
Persistent, lingering on his skin like the sun on a hot summer's day. It simmers, burns, leaving prickles in its wake. Yeah. Sakuya’s touch is sometimes too much for his heart, and he can already feel his ears heating up. He coughs and moves away.
“Anyway, couldn’t you read this inside? I can’t believe you can stand the heat.”
“Now that you mention it has gotten hotter…” The red-head looks up, then back to him. “You don’t like summer, Tenma-kun?”
“Hmh? It’s not like I hate it, I just…”
Tenma knows people tend to enjoy summer. It meant going to the beach, no need for school and going out with friends until late. However it hadn’t been until now that he actually got to take part in those activities, and having no beach near, a series in the making and no air conditioner whatsoever due made the decision. He shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s just obviously sticky and hot all the time.”
Crickets sound in the distance. The red head hums, taking in consideration the arguments. Half the ice cream was already gone. “I guess. But I do love summer!”
Sakuya always saw the brighter side of things. And while part of him had expected it, Tenma lets out a snort anyway and offers the book back to its owner. “Of course you would say that.”
The spring member blinks. He leaves aside the stick of popsicle and leans back on the bench, caressing his book in thought, as if by doing so he could concentrate better. He then looks up at the clear sky again, and the corner of his mouth lifts up.
Tenma could have kept staring at him for another hour if he hadn’t spoken.
“It also reminds me of you, Tenma-kun.”
Always pure and earnest. Tenma will probably never know what to say to those things.
“How the hell do you not feel embarrassed after saying something like that.”
Sakuya lets out a soft laugh that set a thousands butterflies in the summer members’ stomach. “Well, I thought it just now.” he scratches his cheek. Light blush decorate them. “It’s always shiny and vibrant and you know, it’s supposed to be the season of endless possibilities.”
It was too much for him. “I…”
“Tenma! Your manager has arrived!”
He jumps at the sudden yell from Izumi coming from inside. Right, he was supposed to be preparing for that photoshoot.
“I, uh… I gotta go.” The summer member stands up and falters before speaking. “Can you pass it to me when you’re done?”
Sakuya looks down at the book, and lifts his eyes excited. “Of course! I’d love to talk about it with someone!”
I love Summer
It reminds me of you.
When they both links eyes once more, Sakuya touches the cap and secures it in his head smiling before waving at him as he leaves. Tenma waves back, aware of just how much hopelessly love-struck he probably looked.
Maybe summer wasn’t so bad.
Autumn
“Hot!”
Taichi laughs at the clumsy attempt of Tenma trying the warm snack. “It’s a steamed meat bun, Ten-chan. It’s supposed to be hot!”
“How am I supposed to taste anything if my mouth is burning?!”
“Aha!” he points at him loudly. “That’s when you gotta use the technique!”
Tenma frowns, clearly not convinced. Taichi is aware being with Yuki and Kazunari for so long only leads now to suspicion when trying things, so he’s far from offended. In the end, the summer leader gives in. “…What technique.”
“Oh man, you are gonna love it!” Taichi lifts his chest proudly, making Tenma roll his eyes. It’s not everyday he got to teach the young movie star something after all. “Okay, pay attention!”
Under the still suspicious, yet slightly focused look of the spring member, Taichi bites the meat bum and process to munch on it with its mouth open, making different chewing noises, allowing the cold from outside to enter his mouth over his loud and heavy breathing.
“Whaf- whaf wo you fhink!” he manages to ask. Tenma’s frown -which had lowered the more time he watched- lowers even more, making a disgusted face.
“That is absolutely gross.”
“Oh come on!” Taichi complains as he shallows the last bits. “Do it at least once! It won’t taste as good if it’s cold!”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Come on, Ten-chan! You gotta experience this!”
Taichi knows it’s not the most elegant way to eat, but it’s the way he remembers from when he was young. And if there’s something Taichi would love more than anything, is for Tenma to experience things he clearly couldn’t before.
“Just one bite! You’ll see it’s worth it!”
Tenma sighs, and Taichi inwardly knows he has won. Tenma never likes to disappoint others after all. Is one of the things he found more endearing about him. “Ugh, okay! Just- make sure no one is looking.”
Taichi nods rapidly. “You got this!”
Tenma watches embarrassed the snack and looks around to make sure there are indeed no people to watch before biting a portion of the meat bum. “Oof!!“
“Now! Chew!”
The summer leader chews with his mouth open, pain visible in his eyes as white clouds of steam come out of his mouth. “You are doing it!” No sooner the red-head finishes the sentence, a few coughs come out of the actor, making part of the steamed bum leave his mouth. Gross indeed.
“Oh, no!” Taichi pats his back as the coughs get louder. Panicking, he reaches for the strawberry milk he had bought for Juza and offers him. Tenma however shakes his head and bends down, resting his hands on his knees. Taichi pales. Maybe this hasn’t been his best idea.
“D-don’t die Ten-chan! I’m sorry!”
After a few more seconds, the cough subdues. Tenma is red from the effort yet. He offers him again the drink and this time he drinks some of it.
“Sorry Ten-chan.”
“It’s… fine.” He sighs, putting back the cap on the drink. “I won’t be eating a steamed meat bum soon though… What are you doing now?”
“Mhm?” Seeing Tenma look at his feet, he lifts one of them to show him. “Sorry. I was stepping on the fallen leaves to hear the crunch unconsciously.”
“Why?”
“You have never done that before? Look for a crunchy leaf and step on it?”
“No. But I think I’ve had my share of trying things.”
”This is different! Look! Um… that one looks crunchy!”
“How can a leaf look crunchy?”
“Just do it, you are gonna love it!”
With anticipation, Taichi watches Tenma slowly places his foot on top of the first time. The action itself is quick, and the sound pale, yet a tiny smile reaching the summer member’s features when he does, and Taichi beams at the sight.
Because the earthy -and often a bit wet- smell of dry leaves feels cozy and comfortable, but nothing feels to him warmer than seeing Tenma smile because of something he offered.
“Autumn is a bit boring, but I guess things like Halloween and crunchy leaves can make up for it!”
At his words, Tenma stops looking down and frowns. “Boring?”
“Uh? Well-”
“Autumn helps people get used to change from summer to winter. It calms the weather and brings new things and while not everyone might like it, it’s…” he falters. “…anyway, autumn is important. Not boring.”
After the sudden answer, both resume their walk in silence, until Taichi hears the summer actor’s voice again. It doesn’t feel like it’s directed to him, yet he manages to catch it. “Autumn and you feel kinda similar, somehow.”
Taichi knows he has many flaws. He is messy, only plays half okay the yo-yo and skate, and has a hard time getting to know the timing of scenes when acting. But Tenma has made him understand that none of these things were fully flaws. Not a single one. Because they were what made him him. And he has a million other things for what he was known and loved for, that he hadn’t been aware until now.
Taichi thanked him for that. So much his heart hurt.
“Do you really mean that?” His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he notices Tenma trying to hide the blush in his cheeks
“I- I haven’t said anything!”
Winter
Tenma has come to know from long afternoons, from nights like this spent too long chatting under the courtyard tree, sitting in the very same bench, that the two red-head in front of him were one of the most important people that have crossed in his life.
Taichi has claimed so too on more than one occasion – quite loudly, in fact. Sakuya agrees of course. Bright, unwavering. Their warmth is all-encompassing, from their smiles, voices, eyes and actions.
“Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Hehe, merry Christmas you two!”
“So, should we start the exchange?”
“Sure! Want to start, Taichi-kun?”
“Oh man, this is big! Is this really your gift for me?”
Sakuya nods, and Tenma rises his eyebrows at the question. Taichi laughs, and can barely contain his excitement as he opens the present. Immediately, his blue eyes lift to look the the two practically beaming.
He quickly swifts, catching Sakuya and Tenma off guard. His hands cup their faces and lightly pecks their lips lightly against his.
“I love it!”
And as always, they blush.
Because they also love Taichi,
They love how vivid he explains his dreams every morning.
They love how because no matter how others see them, Taichi makes them feel special.
“Here Sakuya.”
“T-thanks, Tenma-kun!”
He opens his gift. And the next second he is so full of love, that he needs to take more air than usual. His eyes water, making Tenma and Taichi worry. Soon they pull him in, one at a time, and their lips meet yet again. Gentle and oddly vulnerable.
Because they love Sakuya.
They love how he looks so adorable when he sleeps.
They love how he inspires them and make them feel so much passion each day.
“Your turn, Ten-chan!”
“We really hope you enjoy it.”
“Okay, okay… dam it, why does this have so much tape?”
“My bad!”
Once he opens it though, Tenma feels as if his ribcage can’t hold his heart, and when he looks back into their eyes, he sees admiration involved in pure and utter love. The view of both waiting for his reaction is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. “I… thanks.”
Taichi and Sakuya look at each other, and giggle at the reaction while Tenma takes a few steps towards them. It’s all he needs to be close enough to pull them against him, wrapping his arms in a warm hug. He kisses them, of course. As if they were so fragile that they could break at the faintest touch.
Because they love Tenma.
They love how he calls them every day when he leaves to film for a few days.
They love how he stays true to himself against the adversity.
But above it all, they all feel just how much they are loved in return. Sakuya’s eyes soften, Taichi laughs and Tenma smiles intertwining their hands. Their hearts feel warm, fizzy. and content.
“It’s starting to get cold. Should we go lay in the living room for a while?”
“If you two want.”
“I do! Let’s grab some cocoa and some blankets too!”
The three walk inside, leaning onto each other, breathing one another scents.
They smell good. Familiar. Like home.
Most happy things do.
____________________________________________________
Little birthday present for amazing @skateboarding-poet!! 💕💕
Sorry this took so much longer than expected Viv. I still hope you enjoy it as well as anyone who reads it! This was so cute to write.
Now onto my daily sappiness: Thank you so much for being my friend, for being such a delight to talk to, but most of all for being you. You are amazing and never ever forget it 💕
Have a wonderful day. Muah!
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Do you have books or poetry that you reread at specific times/seasons/moods?
Oh hiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am not a great re-reader to be completely honest with you because i read so slowly that it feels like wasted time a little bit. There are works that I revisit and read sections of or associate really strongly with the seasons though. I think I prefer lighter stuff in the summer and as the months get colder, then my reading tastes get weirder or more non-fiction-y?
Like Spring is Romantic/Light Academia Season so books like:
The Silver Horn of Robin Hood; The Outlaws of Sherwood by Robin McKinley; all of Jane Austen; Anne of Green Gables; As You Like It; Much Ado About Nothing with poems like "The Highwayman"; "The Hound of Heaven"; "A Passionate Shepherd to His Love"; Song of Songs; "How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways"; Joy Davidman's sonnets to C.S. Lewis but particularly Sonnet XXIX; Shakespeare's Sonnet 29.
Summer is like the Epics/Adventure/Series/General Escapism:
Stephen Fry's Troy; The Iliad; Swiss Family Robinson; all of Sharon Kay Penman's books i love this woman rip queen; The Queen's Thief books by Meghan Whalen Turner aka the greatest story ever told; I also love reading some Amy Tan's books; mysteries series like i love a Longmire book in the summer; middle grade stuff like Harry Potter or Percy Jackson; with poems like "When I Have Crossed the Bar"; "Annabel Lee" by Poe; "Having a Coke with You" by Frank O'Hara and honestly this is spicy but also "Please Master" by Allen Ginsberg i'm not sorry
Autumn is like Dark Academia/Classics:
The Oresteia; The Odyssey; Trojan Women; The Silence of the Girls; Great Expectations; The Matthew Shardlake mysteries; I just read If We Were Villains and The Essex Serpent which are both very dark academia; love a book about an author like I'm really looking forward to reading the biography of Margaret Wise Brown that came out recently; Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber; Antony Sherr's The Year of the King; George Bernard Shaw's commentaries on Shakespeare. Poems/collections like Averno and The Meadowlands by Louise Gluck; October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepherd
Winter is like I'm Reading By the Fire, Comfort Me
I mean like blah blah i genuinely love A Christmas Carol; Jack London's A Call of the Wild; Sherlock Holmes stories; The Once and Future King by T.H. White; Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis; A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas; poems like "The Shortest Day" by Susan Cooper; A Letter to a Friend by Fra Giovanni; “The Lament of Art O’Leary”; my grandmother's favorite poem "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert W. Service; "Do not go gently into that good night" also by Dylan Thomas; "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" and "The Impulse" by Robert Frost
What about you???
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Mobile OC List
Here's a list of my OCs! In order to help mitigate some expectations, I've created a little key to let you know what to expect content-wise for them.
CONTENT FLOW: 🟢 - Active / 🟡 - Slow / 🔴 - Stopped
MOTION SICKNESS UNIVERSE
🟢 Carolina Alvarez (❤ Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia — FC: Alexxis Demire)
🟢 Dalia Alvarez-Garcia (❤ David Floyd — FC: Isabella Ferriera)
PUSUIT OF HAPPINESS UNIVERSE
🟢 Audrey Herrera (❤ Javy "Coyote" Machado — FC: Melissa Barrera)
🟡 Lauren Kahale (❤ Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw — FC: Lindsay Watson)
SEPARATE UNIVERSES
🟡 Katie "Birdie" Tindall (❤ Jake "Hangman" Seresin — FC: Aimee Teegarden)
AU CHARACTERS
🟢 Rosy Kovecky (❤ Steve Barton — FC: Laia Costa)
🟡 Kristina Taylor (❤ Bucky Barnes — FC: Flavia Santiago)
MCU CHARACTERS
🟢 Murphy (❤ Joaquin Torres — FC: Ludovica Martino)
🟡 Julia Schroeder (❤ Shang-Chi — FC: Olivia Liang)
🔴 Bronwen (❤ Loki — FC: Natasha Liu Bordizzo)
PARTING SHOT UNIVERSE
🟡 Kay Barton (❤ Steve Rogers — FC: Alicia Vikander)
🟡 Nat Barton (❤ None — FC: Taron Egerton)
🟡 Molly McKay (❤ Clint Barton — FC: Rebecca Hall)
🟡 Saoirse Nolan (❤ Bucky Barnes — FC: Carey Mulligan)
🟡 Grace Owens (❤ Peter Parker — FC: Zoey Deutch)
🟡 Iris Tate (❤ Pietro Maximoff — FC: Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey)
MIND OVER MATTER UNIVERSE
🟡 Leela Garcia (❤ Hector Garcia (OC) — FC: Hina Khan)
🟡 Rocio Garcia (❤ Miles Morales — FC: Reem Shaikh)
🟡 Mina Kaminski (❤ Bucky Barnes — FC: Melanie Chandra)
🔴 Sekai Williams (❤ Sam Wilson — FC: Lex Scott Davis)
NON POWERED CHARACTERS
🟢 Francesca Vives-Soler (❤ Diego Hargreeves — FC: Natalee Linez)
POWERED CHARACTERS
🟡 Maeve Walsh (❤ Ben Hargreeves — FC: Lize Ferryn)
🔴 Skye Williams (❤ Klaus Hargreeves — FC: Matthew Clevane)
🟢 Philippa Van Metre (❤ Stiles Stilinski — FC: Anjelica Bette Fellini)
MARAUDER ERA
🟡 Corinne Berenger (❤ Gideon Prewtt — FC: Hermione Corfield)
🟡 Soraya Hosseini (❤ Remus Lupin — FC: Golshifteh Farahani)
🟡 Florence Saise (❤ Sirius Black — FC: Gabriella Wilde)
GOLDEN TRIO ERA
🟢 Wren Collings (❤ Fred Weasley — FC: Annelise Judge)
🟢 Mattie Crenshaw (❤ George Weasley — FC: Nora Dari)
🟢 Nora Randolph (❤ Lee Jordan — FC: Casimere Jollette)
🔴 Bryony Hewitt (❤ George Weasley — FC: Taylor Russell)
🔴 Yaren Nacar (❤ None — FC:)
NEXT GENERATION
AU
THE 100
🟡 Leta Cole (❤ Bellamy Blake — FC: Suki Waterhouse)
BIG TIME RUSH
🟡 Autumn Mayes (❤ Kendall Knight — FC: Bridget Satterlee)
🟡 Jemima Yeung (❤ Logan Mitchell — FC: Courtney Eaton)
CHARMED
🟡 Olivia Graham (❤ Chris Halliwell — FC: Camilla Belle)
THE COVENANT
🟡 Johanna Frye (❤ Reid Garwin — FC: Alexa Davalos)
GAME OF THONES
🔴 Iseld Cassel (❤ Theon Greyjoy — FC: Jona Walsh)
INCEPTION
🟡 Brigitte Thayer (❤ Arthur — FC: Gemma Arterton)
🔴 Sandrine Moreau (❤ Eames — FC: Stana Katic)
LORD OF THE RINGS
🟡 Estwyn (❤ Eomer — FC: ?)
🟡 Sírainel (❤ Haldir — FC: ?)
STAR TREK UNIVERSE
🟡 Priyanka Joshi (❤ Leonard McCoy — FC: Nazneen Contractor)
🔴 Keyona Hale (FC: Gugu Mbatha Raw)
🔴 Meia Kwan (FC: Catherine Haena Kim)
🔴 Elizabeth Mackenzie (❤ Scotty — FC: Jules Wilcox)
BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY
🔴 Jill Fletcher (❤ Roger Taylor — FC: Felicity Jones)
🔴 Eleanor Grey (❤ Brian May — FC: Sophie Skelton)
🔴 Sylvia Tyler (❤ John Deacon — FC: Margarita Levieva)
CHILLING ADVENTURES OF SABRINA
🔴 Edith Farrington (FC: Morgan Taylor Campbell)
🔴 Matilda Goode (FC: Elise Gatien)
🔴 Vanessa Scratch
LOGAN
🔴 Theresa Ramos (❤ Donald Pierce — FC:Veronica Echeguí)
KNIVES OUT
🔴 Aster Hearst (❤ Ransom Drysdale — FC: Inbar Lavi)
🔴 Grace Reyes (❤ Ransom Drysdale)
RIVERDALE
🔴 Bree Reilly (❤ Sweet Pea — FC: Ella Purnell)
🔴 Roxanne Roy (❤ Sweet Pea — FC: Holland Roden)
🔴 Sage Saylor (❤ Reggie Mantle — FC: Malia McMullen)
STRANGER THINGS
🔴 Wendy Buckley (❤ Steve Harrington — FC: Annie Kreighbaum)
🔴 Kimberly Finch (❤ Billy Harrington — FC: Matilda Lutz)
🔴 Louisa Mitchell (❤ Steve Harrington — FC: Maika Monroe)
UNDRAFTED
🔴 Ginny Hickey (❤ Pat Murray — FC:Anna Chlumsky)
#mobile ocs#mobile masterlist#masterlist#ocs masterlist#my ocs#harry potter ocs#marvel ocs#teen wolf ocs#mcu ocs#tua ocs#the umbrella academy ocs#caos ocs#riverdale ocs#logan ocs#knives out ocs#stranger things ocs#undrafted ocs#bohemian rhaposdy ocs#bohemian rhapsody#lord of the rings ocs#big time rush ocs#star trek ocs#star trek aos ocs#inception ocs#charmed ocs#game of thrones ocs#the covenant ocs#the 100 ocs#marauder ocs#golden trio ocs
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Today's Elden Ring adventure went as follows:
Huh. Something is making a weird noise. I think it's that thing over there. I've never seen one before. Let's take a closer look!
O... kay. Um. What's hanging down from its head?
IT'S WORMS! WORMS ARE HANGING FROM ITS HEAD.
NOW IT'S SHOOTING WORMS EVERYWHERE WHY WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS I JUST WANTED TO RIDE PEACEFULLY THROUGH THIS AUTUMNAL FOREST LANDSCAPE AUUUUGGGHHHH
...
...
...
Also this one over here is crying at a grave. I don't know why.
I think I will just leave him to it.
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fire and whiskey - joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you never expected to run into joel again after boston, but here he is, and here you are.
warnings: spoilers for the last of us (i’m six hours into a play-through LOL), a lot of swearing, canon-typical violence, MENTIONS/DEPICTIONS OF ASSAULT (pls do not read if that is triggering for you!), unprotected p-in-v, fingering, oral (m receiving), joel is a grumpy man and I love him for it
a/n: please heed the warnings!! my first time writing joel and I’m kinda hooked. this show is truly going to be the death of me and I can’t wait for pedro’s performance. it’s so easy to see how he’s gonna fit watching the game itself play out.
🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂
When he grabs you from behind, you don’t make a sound. You’ve learned, by now, to keep things quiet. But you’re still not expecting it, your whole body jolting with surprise and a breath sucked down your throat. Joel’s hand clamps over your mouth, thick fingers nearly cutting off your nose, but you don’t make a noise, letting him pull you backwards away from the clicker, feet scrambling silently over the doorjamb before he pushes it shut, quiet as can be.
“You need to keep your eyes open, girl,” he spits at you, barely above a whisper. It’s nearly pitch-black in the room, but you can just make out the shape of him, and somehow, those dark eyes manage to glitter all the same as they do in sunlight. It’s maddening. “I saw that thing comin’ a mile away. You distracted or somethin’?”
You shake your head, then realize he probably can’t see your head movement, so throw out a whispered no.
Of course, you’re fucking distracted. It’s Joel. Ten months later, and Joel fucking Miller appears out of nowhere like some kind of guardian angel, yanking a runner off you and putting a pipe through the thing’s face. You haven’t seen him since Boston. Since before everything that happened…happened.
Since Jason.
Since Tess.
Fuck, you think inwardly, exhaling against his palm. Tess. Sure, she wasn’t the nicest woman you’d ever met in your life, but she’d helped keep you alive, and you knew Joel was close to her, in that strange, standoffish, I act like I hate you but I’ll be quietly devastated if anything ever happens to you way that you’ve come to associated with Joel Miller. It’s the way of the world now, to a certain degree, but goddamn it if Joel didn’t take it to the next level. Always.
Even after it all, after Jason was dealt with and he’d told you you were square, you still didn’t know where you stood with Joel. If he liked you or hated you, or if he genuinely didn’t give a fuck.
But then earlier, before you’d crept inside the old warehouse in search of supplies, when you’d been knocked into the pavement by a runner and Joel had intervened, when he saw it was you, there was a moment. A glimmer of something, too quick to memorize but there long enough for your brain to fixate on it, to focus on, to dissect.
“It’s you,” was all he’d said, the pipe still buried in the runner’s face, using it as leverage to yank the limp body off of you. “I’ll be damned.”
“Joel fucking Miller,” you’d nearly gasped with relief, throwing your arms around his neck. He’d muttered something unintelligible, giving you a halfhearted squeeze around the waist. “Thank god.”
“Good to see you, girl.”
That had been the extent of the reunion. You were introduced to Ellie shortly after, and to Bill, Joel’s friend from a town over back in Boston. And Joel told you about Tess.
Desperation had pushed you into the warehouse, all of you with growling stomachs and Bill with a bad arm injury. You’d used the last of your pain meds days back, and Joel had bandages, but it wouldn’t do much to ease his friend’s discomfort. When Ellie told you it’d been two days since they had anything to eat, you slipped her half a granola bar you had stashed, and you didn’t miss the way Joel looked at you sideways.
And now you’re inside, your back pressed to Joel’s front and his hand clamped over your mouth. You expect him to smell awful — and mostly, he does — but there’s something beneath it, something manly and comforting and strong.
So yes, you’re fucking distracted.
It’s a few hours before you get out of the warehouse, your arms aching from holding your rifle at the ready, shoulders screaming from the weight of your pack. It’s worth it, though — each of your bags is practically filled to burst with medical supplies, food scraps, what have you.
And the best of all: booze.
Bill had nearly cried when you stumbled on the box, your head cocking to the side when you heard the rattle of glass. The fact that it wasn’t shattered was already surprising, but when you flipped open the cardboard to reveal three intact bottles of good old Jack Daniels, even Joel had mumbled out his surprise.
You find a quiet alley outside the warehouse, hang around long enough for your stomachs to stop eating themselves, and for Bill to swig back most of one of the bottles of whiskey.
“Nature’s Tylenol,” he claims, and you and Ellie let out quiet giggles. Joel cracks a smile.
“Where y’all headed?” you ask, after an awkward silence settles over the group of you and you find yourself desperate to break it.
“That’s the elusive question, isn’t it?” Bill comments, and Joel scoffs. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen any car batteries laying around, have ya?”
Your brow furrows, Ellie laughs, and Bill throws his hands up, muttering under his breath and grabbing his shotgun and heading back for the street. “We going?” Ellie asks Joel, and he nods. “You should come,” she says to you, her eyes bright, tone inviting. It’s sweet. “It’d be nice to have another girl around.”
You laugh, punching her arm lightly, playful. But then you look at Joel, and the feeling withers slightly. “That all right with you?”
“Where’re you headed?”
You shrug a shoulder. “Nowhere fast.”
He lifts his chin, looking down his nose at you. “Well, may as well stay together. For tonight at least.”
“Okay,” you agree, and that’s that.
There’s a lot of walking, quiet conversation passed between you, recounting where you’ve been, what your plan (or lack there of) is, people from your and Joel’s briefly shared past. Bill leads the group of you, bottle dangling from his hand most of the way, and Ellie is a few feet behind, Joel falling into step beside you.
“Been a long time since I saw you,” he says gruffly. Your hands brush as you walk, and Joel flinches, making the space between you a little winder. “Since—”
“Jason,” you finish, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “I never thanked you properly.”
“Ah,” he waves you off. “You don’t have to thank me for anythin’, girlie.”
Girlie. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Even back in Boston, when things were…rough, whenever you’d run into Joel, or Tess would bring you around for a job or something, it was always the same. Those dark eyes, occasionally crinkled at the corners, always giving you a once over. You knew what it was, in reality — he was checking you for bites, anything out of the ordinary, any trace of blood, and, once he knew what Jason really was, bruises. How you doin’, girlie? You eaten today, girlie? You feelin’ okay, girlie?
And after, when he and Tess had burst into your apartment back in Boston, seeing you beaten and bloody in the corner, Jason with reddened fists raised, a feral look in his eye. Not infected, just…awful.
Tess had yanked you to your feet and Joel had stood in front of the pair of you, blocking Jason’s path to you. “Back off.” It wasn’t a request. An order, delivered with a voice like hard steel and a raised gun levelled between Jason’s eyes.
It was a marriage of convenience, in every sense. And not a real marriage, not by a long shot. You’d met Jason somewhere between your hometown in Colorado and the camp in Boston, and it became a matter of survival. You kept his bed warm at night, and in return, he kept you protected, kept you alive. It wasn’t love, not really. Jason had his moments, but the bad started to outweigh the good. And the bruises came later.
Then they became too much.
You hung outside until the curfew reminders sounded, if you could manage it. Bouncing from friend to friend, trying to find odd jobs, asking Tess to find you something to do. You only went home when you got desperate, and more often than not, Jason was up waiting, ready to hurl insults and accusations the second you were through the door. His latest was that you were sleeping with other people, throwing yourself at anyone in camp who so much as glanced at you.
“I bet she’s fucking you too, isn’t she, Miller?” he half-screamed at Joel, waving his hands like a crazy person. Tess tucked you under her arm and you tried to wipe the blood from your face. “Fucking whore!”
He lunged for you and Joel laid him out flat, a gunshot echoing through the apartment. Through and through to his shoulder, the bullet leaving a hole in the wall, casing clattering to the floor. “I said, back off.”
Jason didn’t listen, blind with rage, pulling a switchblade from his pocket and trying to run at you again, ducking in an attempt to move around Joel, but it only made things worse.
The second shot would have gone through his shoulder again, another warning. He would have lived. But ducking put him level with the gun, and instead, it went through his forehead. Blood sprayed, you screamed and Tess shielded you, and his body hit the floor.
Joel put his gun away, gently took you from Tess. “Pack her things,” he said to her, his hands warm around your biceps as he held you up. “I’ll deal with this.”
Tess nodded, disappearing towards your bedroom, and your eyes were stuck on the body on the floor. “He’s gone.”
“He is,” Joel agreed, producing a bit of gauze from his pocket, dabbing at your split lip. “It’s okay, girlie. You’re safe now.”
You’d crumbled into him. Tess let you stay in her apartment a few days, but by the end of the week, you were gone.
“Where did you go?” Joel asks, the question yanking you out of your memories. “After.”
“Salem, for a while,” you answer, staring down at your boots. “Providence for a bit after that, then the plan was Washington, but here I am instead.”
“By yourself?”
You just nod.
He whistles. “I taught you well.”
He had. In the days after Jason and before your departure, most of your time had been spent with Joel. He taught you how to shoot every gun they could get their hands on, setting up target practice with tin cans behind one of the apartment blocks. Bow and arrow too, hand-to-hand combat, knives. You name it, if Joel knew how to use it, he was showing you how to do it too.
And his cardinal rule: never let go of your weapon, not if you can help it.
You nod again, lifting your elbow so it nudges him in the side. He’s gotten a little closer to you. “You did. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, Joel.”
You swear he blushes.
Another couple hours of travel, and you find a farmhouse, mostly intact. A few smashed windows, sure, but it’s secure enough, far enough from the main roads that you’re not worried about stragglers. Bill and Joel clear the house out first, you and Ellie keeping watch by the road.
“Did you and Joel used to date?” she asks, blunt as anything, while you’re sharing a bottle of water, which you nearly spit out.
“W-what?” You wipe your face, feeling your cheeks heat. “What makes you say that?”
“He looks at you,” she says, shrugging a shoulder, “when you’re not looking at him. Like he thinks you’re gonna disappear or something.”
You choke on a laugh, waving her off. “You’re imagining things, kid.”
“Am not!”
The men emerge from the house then, waving you both in. They’ve set up a barricade of sorts in the living room, a few lanterns lit either side of the pile of blankets stacked on the floor. It’s not a real mattress by any stretch, but it’ll do.
“Gonna go build a fire out back,” Joel announces as you all get comfortable, a slim sense of safety settling over you. “I’ll take first watch.”
He disappears out the sliding door, and you watch until he disappears into the dark. A few minutes later, there’s a spark of light, then another and another, until the orange glow of a fire seeps back towards the house.
Ellie settles down completely, reading a few pages of her comic book before she’s passed out completely. You fold her comic up carefully, pulling one of the blankets over her. You try and get some sleep, tossing and turning for a few hours, but it’s no use. Your eyes keep moving to the sliding door, to the outline of Joel sitting at the fire. Finally, you give up, and get up. Bill is sprawled on the couch, his bottle of Jack cradled against him. You just laugh, pulling your own bottle from your bag and heading outside.
Joel’s fire is impressive, licking up towards the sky, embers crackling into the night as you approach. There’s a fallen log stretched across the ground, Joel sat in the centre of it, staring into the flames. Your foot snaps a twig as you get closer and he’s on his feet immediately, reaching for his gun. But he stops when he sees it’s you, and grunts.
“Sorry,” you say, lifting your hands. “Should have announced myself.”
“Yeah, you fuckin’ should have,” he agrees angrily, sinking back onto the log.
“Easy,” you lift the bottle of whiskey. “I come bearing gifts.”
His brow hardens at you. “Fine.”
You take a seat beside him and crack open the bottle. It’s a familiar burn on the way down, a strangely memorable taste that makes you feel like a teenager again, stealing liquor from your parents’ cabinet and sneaking off to parties. It feels like a million years ago.
It’s quiet, at first, the pair of you just passing the bottle back and forth, back and forth. The fire dies slightly at some point, and Joel tosses a capful towards the logs, making you jump when the flames jump high for a split second. “They teach you that in boy scouts?” you ask.
He barks a laugh. That angry tone still sits in his voice, but you can tell it’s starting to break. “I was not a fuckin’ boy scout.”
“I find that very hard to believe, Joel Miller.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Oh, that’s mature.”
A long silence. You swig from the bottle and hand it to him. You’re pressed close to him on the log, trying to steal some of his warmth, your bodies touching from shoulder to hip.
Whiskey gives you a loose tongue. “What do you miss the most?”
He doesn’t answer, his brow turning to hard line on his forehead. He swigs from the bottle again. “That’s a loaded question as any, girlie.”
“I miss getting mail,” you roll over his comment. “Hell, I even miss bills. Oh, and fuzzy slippers. I used to have some that looked like turtles, it was so funny. Don’t get comfortable enough anywhere to even think about taking my shoes off, let alone wearing slippers.”
He laughs again, and the anger is gone. Success. “Turtles, huh?”
“Turtles,” you agree, grinning. “C’mon, tell me, Joel. What do you miss most? From the old days. From the normal days.”
He thinks about it. You can see it on his face, the way his brow pinches, eyes bright with something besides the firelight. The bottle dangles from his fingers; it’s nearly empty. “We need a lot more than one bottle of Jack for me to answer that.”
You roll your eyes. “Come on, I told you mine.”
“I’m not talkin’ about slippers and snail mail, girl. A lot of shit has happened since I last saw you, and even before that, you don’t know my whole story, all right? So don’t fuckin’ pry.”
“Damn,” you breathe out, stunned silence settling over you. He drinks the last of the bottle, and it’s a few minutes before you speak again, the crackling of the fire filling the quiet between you. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Joel. We’ve all been through a fucking lot, okay? So fucking forgive me for wanting to make sure you’re okay.” Sighing, you get to your feet, moving to walk around the fire.
“Listen,” he says, catching your arm as he gets up, moving closer to you as while you’re stepping away from him. “I don’t need you worryin’ about me or checkin’ up on me or anything like that, you hear? That’s not your—”
“Burden to bear?” you finish, quirking a brow, and Joel just stares at you, dark eyes widening like he’s shocked by your answer. “I know I don’t have to, Joel. That’s not why I do it.”
“You’re not listen—”
You grab him by the front of his shirt, fingers curling into worn flannel, dragging him close until you’re nearly chest to chest. There’s a pause, a complete stillness that washes over both of you for a second, his lips parted and yours following suit. Then it’s the scrape of his beard against your skin, biting at your cheeks and chin. He tastes like whiskey, something harsh that slides down your throat, something harsher that you know is just the taste of Joel.
There’s nothing soft about it. Hesitant, sure, but there’s no gentleness, nothing romantic about the way he kisses. It’s intense, his mouth devouring your own, drinking you down in every sense. His tongue dives past your teeth, curling along the roof of your mouth, and you can’t help but gasp back into him, toes curling in your boots as you lean up, desperate to get closer to him, to have him nearer, to feel his warmth as surely as you feel your own.
The fire crackles behind you, the whiskey bottle empty and discarded beside the log you’d been occupying. He finally moves, one hand finding your hip beneath your sweater, the other reaching back and curling in your ponytail, wrapping the length of it around his wrist. He tugs lightly, prickles of tension shooting along your scalp, and you let your own hands dip, sliding right up the hem of his flannel until your palms are splayed on bare skin. You can feel the heave of his breaths against your hands, the racket of his heart against his ribs.
Behind you, someone clears their throat, and you both snap apart like a sprung trap, Joel instantly turning away towards the fire, hands on his hips, while you stumble back a step, covering your mouth with one hand, trying to quell your rapid breaths and aching core.
“Just comin’ to take my watch,” Bill says, eyeing you both. His own bottle of whiskey is at his hip, shotgun cocked over his shoulder, a large machete hanging from his belt. “You two go get some shut-eye.” He brushes past Joel, clapping him on the shoulder as he goes. “Or somethin’.”
You both stand there a moment, shell-shocked, as Bill takes his seat at the fire. In the direction he came, the house glows from the inside, the camping lanterns still lit in the living room. Ellie’s asleep there, you know, and as Joel takes a step, intent on brushing past you, his cheeks bright red even in the darkness, you catch his arm.
“Meet me in the bathroom,” you say. It’s bold, and he freezes, staring down at your hand on his arm for a long moment before his eyes flick up to your face.
“I’m not what you need.” The words are gruff, his brow going hard again, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“Cut the shit,” you say, shaking your head. “Now you’re the one not listening.”
Before he can get another word out, you turn on your heel and stomp back to the house. You don’t look back, don’t check to see if he’s following you or not. The sliding door squeaks as you slip inside, and sure enough, you catch sight of Ellie, still asleep, her eyes fluttering with dreams. You don’t want to disturb her.
You almost leave your gun on the kitchen counter as you make your way to the bathroom, but then Joel’s voice echoes in your mind. Never let go of your weapon, not if you can help it. So you don’t, leaving it tucked in your waistband until you’re in the bathroom, letting the door click quietly shut behind you.
It’s dark, save for a sliver of moonlight coming in through the mostly-shattered window. You take stock, ignoring the cracked floor and broken toilet. It’s surprisingly clean, given the state of things, Under the expected later of dust and grime, there’s nothing too unseemly. There’s an empty toilet paper roll still on the holder, a home improvement magazine on the back of the toilet. You turn, pushing a hand through your hair, pulling it loose of the ponytail, and inspect the sink.
The faucet is broken, handles missing and the spout off-kilter. The mirror above is broken, spidering out from a single contact point, like someone punched the glass. Your own reflection still peers back at you, fractured and disfigured. Something about it makes your chest hurt, and you rub a hand across your collarbone.
Just when you’re about to give up, convinced that he’s not coming, the door creaks open. Just a crack, just enough for you to see half his face in the opening it leaves. His gaze is still dark, but his brow is less furrowed, and he’s chewing at the inside of his lip.
Silently, he steps inside, pulls the door shut behind him. You’re leaning against the counter, your hands hooked over the particleboard. He stands in front of you, about a foot of space between you, and stares at your feet.
“It’s not that I don’t want this,” he says, his voice so low and gravelly you almost have to strain your ears to hear. “It’s not that I don’t want you. Fuck, I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you, back in Boston, when that fuck-head was still around. Wanted you back then, want you now, it hasn’t changed.” He inches forward, closing the distance slightly. “But this?” He gestures towards the door — towards Ellie, Bill, the fire outside, the world. “This is much bigger than us. And I can’t—”
“I’m not another thing for you to take care of, Joel,” you murmur, and reach back, pulling your gun out of your waistband, setting it on the counter. “I can handle myself. You taught me how.” His throat bobs. “And you’re right; it’s all so much bigger than us. I’m not an idiot, I’m not gonna stand in your way or make myself a liability. I know the drill. But it doesn’t matter right now.”
You reach up then, pinching the zipper of your sweater, meeting his eyes as you drag it down, ever so slow. His gaze drops from yours only to watch the path, watch the way it falls open once the zipper is undone, revealing your chest and stomach, the black line of your bra, the few scars you’ve gathered over the years.
“This—”
“Stop thinking, Joel,” you tell him, and reach for his hand, pulling it towards you, letting his calloused palm cup the curve of your breast. “Just for tonight.”
“Fuck it,” he grumbles, and then he’s on you. You thought the kiss at the fire was rough, but this is something else entirely. He’s…touch-starved, you realize, with the way he gropes at you, tipping his face into yours while his hands roam every inch of bare skin they can reach. He sighs into your mouth when you let your sweater drop further, the material sliding off your shoulders and down your arms, pooling at your wrists. How long as it been, you wonder distantly, since he touched someone else? Since someone else touched him?
Discarding your sweater, you reach up, working the buttons on his flannel, one by one until his chest is visible, scarred and golden, a light dusting of hair between his pecs. You drag your hand down it, right from the hollow of his throat, riding the soft curve of his stomach until you can hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging him closer to you.
Joel looks down as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly, the clinking sound of metal reaching your ears. He’s nearly panting, one hand curled around the side of your neck, the other braced on the wall beside you. You push your face into his neck, pressing your mouth to his jaw as you work his zipper, sticking your hand right down his pants, under the elastic of his boxers.
He’s big. Big and thick and hard as a fucking rock, hips bucking harshly into your hand the moment you close your fingers around him. “So fuckin’ soft,” he breathes out, and you stroke him once, curving your palm over the tip of his cock, the precum that’s gathered there easing your way as you move back down to his base. “Fuckin’ hell, girlie.”
You have the sense to check the ground before you sink to your knees, making sure there’s no shards of glass or anything sharp before you get down, cushioning yourself on his boots. His hands move, both diving into your hair, curling strands around his knuckles, tugging like he had at the fire. It sets your whole body aflame, and you don’t waste any time, pulling his boxers down and taking him into your mouth, swallowing his cock all the way down, groaning as you do it. The tip of him hits the back of your throat and he bucks forward, thrusting into your mouth. It makes your throat jump, but you bite back the gag, digging your nails into the meat of his ass as you pull back, bobbing your head, curling your tongue around him.
He’s watching you; you can feel it. You tip your head back slightly, cock still pressed between your lips, pulling off of him completely with a quiet pop, letting the tip rest against your lips. He just stares down at you, gaze hard as he is, brows pinched as he watches. Slowly, you open your mouth, the head of his cock brushing past your top lip, giving him just the slightest bit of teeth as you take him again. It makes him groan, the sound rumbling through his whole body, one hand smacking against the wall.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he spits out, and before you can move any further, he’s pushing you back, grabbing your bicep and yanking you back up. “Not gonna last if you keep that shit up.”
He kisses you again, possessive and intense, pouring himself into you as he bites at your lip, rides the line of your jaw, closes his mouth around your pulse and sucks a bruise. A reminder, you think; tomorrow, once this is all over, it’ll just be a memory, and the mark on your skin will be all that remains.
Your leggings are shoved down, the seams groaning in protest, and his hand dives into your underwear, rubbing along your folds, moaning into your mouth when he finds how wet you are. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he grumbles into you, and you can’t help but grin, curling your arm around his shoulders as he crowds you backwards against the counter again. “Pretty little thing.”
Before you can even blink, he’s crouching, tearing your boots off your feet and yanking your pants further down. He shrugs off his flannel then, letting it join the growing pile of clothing on the ground. As he makes his way back up to stand, he pauses, curls his hand around your calf, just below your knee. Everything in you goes tight as a fucking bowstring as he leans in, presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hinge of your leg, letting his lips linger before he’s moving back up, capturing your mouth again, the hand not on your leg diving into your hair, keeping your face against his.
He steps between the bracket of your legs, his hips finding a home against yours. You can feel him, hot and heavy and making you ache, the length of him pressed to your dripping cunt. It’s too much, it’s not enough, you might explode if you don’t feel him now.
You whine into his mouth, and Joel pulls back, the corner of his mouth ticking in a grin. “Somethin’ you need, girlie?”
You just whine again, pushing your hips against him, trying to chase the feeling that’s building, desperate for any kind of friction you can get. “Joel, please.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” he mutters.
Then he’s inside you.
And it’s fucking earth-shattering.
You can feel every inch of his cock, every ridge and vein as he pushes inside you. He keeps a tight grip on your hair, panting into your mouth as he sinks to the hilt. He’s cursing under his breath the whole way, eyes flicking from yours down to where your bodies are joined and back up again.
“Wanted you for so fuckin’ long,” he breathes out, starting to roll his hips, giving you slow thrusts that only make the ache in you bubble further. Your own hands find his ribs, nails scratching over bare skin and scars. He feels so good. “So fuckin’ long, girlie. You don’t even know. You don’t even—”
His next thrust is harder, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the small space, and you both freeze. There’s no such thing as privacy out here anymore, and you don’t want to wake Ellie. But Joel keeps talking, babbling almost, the words grunted.
You bite your lip, and clamp one hand over his mouth.
His eyes flare for a moment, but you’re careful to leave his nose unblocked, his hot breath pouring over your knuckles. He’s still talking, but the words are muffled now, caught against your palm. His teeth nip, but you don’t care. The pace slows slightly, his grip on your hip tighter as he drives his cock into you. Your eyes want to roll back, but you do your best to keep them trained on Joel’s face.
You just wanna see him fall apart.
It doesn’t take long, his orgasm rumbling through his body. He pulls out of you at the last second, thrusts his cock into the spot where your thigh meets your hip, paints your body with his pleasure. Something feral in you wishes he’d cum inside, had covered your insides with him, but you know that’s not practical. It’s not smart.
Once his breathing has returned to normal, you let go, your hand dropping from his mouth, fingers glancing over his lip before it drops back to his side. Before you can make a move, he shoves two fingers deep in your cunt, curling them against something that makes your eyes roll back and you collapse against him, your pleasure cresting high, something akin to relief flooding through you.
“Didn’t think I was gonna leave you hangin’, did ya?” he growls in your ear. A high-pitched moan falls out of you, and Joel rips your head back, covering your mouth with his so he can swallow down your noises. “Good girl,” he says into you as the pleasure rips through you, your limbs electric and static and your whole body going weightless. “Good fuckin’ girl.”
Both back down on solid ground, something has changed. You know it. You can see it. His gaze isn’t as hard as he finds something to clean his cum from your leg. He kisses you as he helps your sweater back up your arms, pinches the zipper and drags it up, leans in to peck your collarbone before it’s covered by the fabric. You help each other get dressed, dipping a hand down the back of his boxers to squeeze his ass before you yank on his belt buckle. And once you’re both fully clothed, Joel grabs your face, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and kisses you slow.
Slow, slow, slow. The complete opposite of the kiss by the fire, of the second one that had sparked your wild fuck. It takes you aback, your body curving into his when his other palm settles in the small of your back and pushes you towards him.
Bill is still sitting watch by the fire when you emerge from the bathroom, and Ellie is still dead asleep, thankfully.
“We should actually get some shut-eye,” Joel mumbles, and you just nod, the weight of the day and the exertion catching up with you. “C’mon.”
You lay out on the blanket next to Ellie, putting yourself between her and Joel as he lies beside you. He fights with a blanket; you’re expecting him to drape it over you — and he does — but you’re not expecting him to slide close to you beneath it, fitting himself against your back.
“I’m gonna leave in the morning,” you whisper after a few minutes, and Joel goes stock-still behind you.
“What?”
“This was just for tonight,” you say, and slowly turn to face him. “You said so yourself.”
His arm is slung over your hips, and his fingers curl in the back of your sweater, like he’s trying to keep you in place. Something in his face flickers, and Ellie’s words from earlier echo in your mind. Like he thinks you’re gonna disappear or something. “I know what I said,” he murmurs, but says nothing further.
“Joel,” you whisper, stretching up until your lips just brush against his. His arm moves up, hand cups your cheek again. “Ask me to stay. Say it.”
“I can’t—” he starts, but cuts himself off, nose dragging along yours as he heaves a breath. “Stay, girlie. Please. Stay with me.”
You just nod.
—————
I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕
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#joel miller#kay’s autumn adventures#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#my fics#fire and whiskey
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hello! welcome to the chaos.
basic introduction
my name is percy or ivy (nicknames percy and ives), i use they/he/she/ask pronouns, am 15 and live in australia. i am a poc and and have autism, adhd, anxiety and depression. i am genderfluid with an unlabelled sexuality.
we're an infj, sagittarrius, huge gracie, conan and taylor stan. love percy jackson, the osemanverse and marauders. rain is very close to our heart, as well as swimming. we relate heavily to percy jackson, remus lupin and the spring siblings.
disclaimer!! i am a traumagenic osdd-1b system though this doesn't really affect our blog and only if you are close to us. you can ask questions about this in our ask box as long as they aren't invasive. i can also try and provide resources if people want.
things i love
rain, thunderstorms, autumn, dark academia, cryptidcore, swimming, beach and pool, purple, blue, sunflowers, butterflies, cats, coffee, fairy lights, choir, orchestra, music, stardew valley, terraria, minecraft, life series, hermitcraft, my bedroom, pinterest, tumblr, spotify, sunsets, the moon, gummy bears, chocolate, juice, staying up late
hobbies
listening to music, singing, playing viola, piano or guitar, composing, reading, playing video games, writing sometimes, learning languages, trying to learn makeup and skincare, wanting to learn crochet and cross stich and more
my wips
disclaimer i do not write often i just daydream about these
all wips are under the tag #my wips
#the wallflowers is a short story collection set in a small town about five best friends navigating life and their relationships. the main characters are #ella rietvelt, #leo de olivieria, #les marie-walsh, #ollie edwards and #park solis
#dragonriders is a story about three best friends who live in a fantasy world, attend an esteemed boarding school and their adventures when they sneak out at night to ride dragons. the main characters are #elias arora, #letty lovelace and #wren runebreaker
#i know places is a fame au of four friends navigating their personal lives while being in front of the whole world and having to keep an audience in order to live. the main characters are #issy fields, #nova wolfe, #alistair morales and #caspian avila
#lost in space is an online group chat slice of life story where the fourteen main characters are personified versions of planets and celestial objects. the main characters are sun, mercury, venus, earth, mars, jupiter, saturn, uranus, neptune, pluto, moon, star, shooting star and comet
books
percy jackson and the olympians, anything by rick riordan, harry potter (fuck jkr), marauders era, thg and tbosas, tsoa, tshoeh, agggtm, anything by alice oseman, iwwv, anything by claire zorn, hiaylm, tbdate, iksw, thitcs, all that's left in the world, the starless sea and the curious incident of the dog in the night-time
movies and tv shows
stranger things (fuck noah and brett), ever after high, heartstopper, barbie, percy jackson, the good place, brooklyn 99, enola holmes, divergent, anonymously yours, all the bright places, a series of unfortunate events, the hunger games, wednesday
music artists and albums
taylor swift, conan gray, gracie abrams, olivia rodrigo, lizzy mcalpine, hozier, noah kahan, arctic monkeys, the neighbourhood, lovejoy, ajr, one direction, cavetown, girl in red, sara kays, anson seabra, alec benjamin, five seconds of summer, harry styles
1989, reputation, red, fearless, folklore, evermore, good riddance, this is what it feels like, minor, sour, guts, superache, kid krow, five seconds flat, wasteland baby, hozier, unreal unearth, stick season, when i'm oldet, these two windows, narrated for you, songs i wrote in my bedroom, feeling for my life
tag list
#rwtr.txt (original text posts)
#rwtr.faves (things we really like)
#rwtr.saves (things we want to look back at)
#mecore (posts we relate to)
#asks
#ask games
#tag games
#my loves (moots)
mutual tag list
my lovely mutuals
these are people that i'm closest with. lmk if you want to be added or removed
@urbanflorals @gently-decaying-flowers @sleepy-vix @bazkrekkers @stranglingfigs @aspenii @daydream-of-a-wallflower @catinasink @dobry-slimak @bassguitarinablackt-shirt @literatureisdying @misc-me0707 @lilith-com @svnflowermoon @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @dandelions-arent-weeds @lostlosersclub @jenglish-jaggot @i-am-an-arson-enthusiast @a-beautiful-fool @midnight-thedyke @ssavinggrace @genderfluidsgetguns
other
if you want to interact with me our discord is the same as our url here or just send us an ask
we can be really awkward but we try our best to be less awkward
thanks for reading our intro post
this post was inspired by many others
credit to the dividers goes to @moodboard-d and @firefly-graphics
#last edited: 24.03.2024#our tags ->#rwtr.txt#rwtr.mp3#rwtr.faves#rwtr.saves#mecore#asks#ask games#tag games#my loves (moots)#the wallflowers#dragonriders#i know places#lost in space#my wips
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October 16, DY 26
After a successful first mission, adventurers Brother and Kai are keen to take up another from Kuene’s board (still only sparsely populated) after a good night’s rest.
This new notice asks them to investigate an unearthed crypt found in a hop field, which the craft farmers suspect has somehow been the root of a bad crop this autumn. Brother and Kai head for the field in the Woodon borough near the fringes of the city, passing through the bougie districts of Booktown and Redstreet on their way (where Brother collects a fair amount of alms).
They arrive at “DJs”, the craft brewery and walled farm plot, and Brother knocks on the door and rings its bell simultaneously, summoning a tall tiefling man in a bathrobe.
This man, Daniel Jecudra brings them in to the open concept loft above their brewery and mill where they catch his husband James Daniels naked and asleep in the bed. James wakes up and throws on a robe, but not before giving everyone a good look at his toned body.
Daniel and James give our adventurers the summary of their problems, explaining that their hops never budded and only grew a few feet up their ropes. When investigating a few plants’ roots, they uncovered a stone, which turned out to be the capstone of a mausoleum’s arched doorway. They unearthed the entrance to the mausoleum but didn’t go any further when they felt a cold gust of wind from deeper in the earth - this is when they found Kuene and employed the services of his guild.
Despite Brother’s best efforts to uncover sordid stories of affairs and sabotage, our duo is eventually led to the hole and the unearthed mausoleum, which they descend into to investigate.
Inside the mausoleum are two large urns marked with Elvish script. Brother considers opening one but is dissuaded by its seal of age and wax. In the bottom corner of the tiny building’s back wall Kai finds a hole, whence comes the subterranean draft. She shifts into the form of a mouse and investigates beyond it, where she is joined by an octopus summoned by Brother. Kai finds a tunnel, where she shifts back into her humanish shape.
On the other side of the wall, Brother begins an alchemical ritual which eventually turns half of the wall into wood, which Brother detaches and sets aside, granting Brother access.
The trio (Brother, Kai, octopus) descend through the curving tunnel until Brother notices a faint phosphorescence ahead. Brother sends the octopus to investigate, watching through its eyes.
The octopus enters a large chamber and finds the source of the phosphorescence: large egg sacs clustered around tubes or trunks of some sort that lead up to a high ceiling. Hungry, the octopus tries to bite an egg, but the sac’s membrane is thick and elastic. It resorts to using the little hooked claws at the end of its arms, which eventually tear open an egg sac, releasing its mucous-like fluids and a spill of eggs. This triggers a pulse of phosphorescent light that travels up the connected tube, which begins to undulate.
Brother snaps back to dwarf perception and follows Kai down to the chamber in time to notice the silhouette of a humanoid shape begin to descend from the tube - which is now noticed to connect to the underside of a coffin wedged in the ceiling. The other tubes, too, lead up to coffins in the earth of the chamber’s ceiling.
Kai hears a chittering from somewhere further in the darkness.
Brother blasts another egg sac with a firebolt, triggering its tube to begin to shiver. Meanwhile, the silhouetted figure has descended through the first tube and its mummified foot is emerging from the broken egg sac (Brother has dispelled the octopus which had been adjacent). Brother destroys the body’s leg and the rest of it slips wetly into view - a desiccated elven corpse. Kai rimes it in frost just in case.
The chittering noise grows nearer, until a hideous shape bursts into the torchlight. Like a spider, its jointed legs have elbows above its sagging thorax, but it is a quadruped and its legs are thick columns. Its head horribly mimics a human face, almost like a puppet - its eyes lifeless, its mouth a slit. Beneath its thorax wobbles a translucent sac of organs in a faintly glowing fluid.
Brother and Kai roll up their sleeves and fight for their lives as more of these grotesque creatures come out of the darkness. They find their attacks almost ineffective against the monsters’ bristly hides, but when they target the dangling bellies they begin to make progress.
Low on mana and bleeding and bludgeoned, our adventurers are on their last legs but facing the last of the creatures when it turns and performs some awful gyrating, thrusting ritual over an egg sac. Its tube begins glowing from the ground up, and as the spider-monster turns to reengage the wounded warriors a silhouette appears at the top of the tube.
This silhouette, unlike the others, which spilled from their tubes still and lifeless, is thrashing and almost changing shape in its tube as it begins to descend.
Kai shifts into the form of a wolf and battles the spider-monster, eventually dispatched by a few blasts of fire from the retreating Brother.
A corpse crawls out of the glowing tube, its lower limbs glowing with lines of phosphorescence and its chest, arms, and head writhing in a hideous facsimile of human flesh. It lumbers towards Kai and lashes her with glowing whips that spread from its clublike arms. These tendrils look for purchase in her wolf fur even as she bites its arms and body - when finally they worm their way into her flesh, they overwhelm her consciousness to take control of her body. The tendril detach from the lumbering corpse and form a writhing collar around the wolf, which turns with glowing eyes to regard Brother, who has already retreated up the tunnel.
The wolf catches Brother in a leap and a bound, sinking its teeth into a shoulder and bringing Brother unconscious to the ground. The corpse follows the wolf - and arrives just as Kai regains control. Kai-as-wolf turns on the lumbering monster and takes it to the ground, ripping it apart, before turning back into a wounded water genasi in order to administer needed first aid to her fallen companion.
Bleeding dearly and on the edge of death, the duo leave the situation as it lies and return to the DJs. James reluctantly bandages them up and they are served restoratives. Brother, muttering over and over “That was bad. So bad” manages to increase the return for their services from monthly shipments of a cask of ale to that plus an immediate payment of cash.
Once no longer bleeding to death, the duo returns through the mausoleum and slashes up the remaining egg sacs. Once detached from their tubes and sacs, the embryos cease to glow. Brother leads Kai to the far end of the chamber, where they investigate a tunnel. This leads to a fork, which leads to a descent towards a pit into darkness (left), a dead end (center), and an exit to the surface among some farmland just outside the city.
Brother selects a cask of winter cherry beer seltzer as the guild’s first monthly stipend and the duo heads back to 1215 Tanglewood Bank, a job well done.
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The Scarf Fic!!!
Inspired by This post by @sekiumiarashi and written as a gift for @into-the-linkverse
I wanted to write Ravio sharing scarves, but I accidentally found that I like writing Ravio, and more importantly, writing him and Legend like they’re a pair of elderly people, because... just because.
Giving Legend glasses was a choice that I didn’t see coming, but do not regret. I do regret Ravio’s naming scheme, but it was too funny to back out so I kept pushing. I’m not sorry that you all must suffer.
Feel free to read this as being part of my main fic The Ties That Bind, but it can also be separate, just consider the uncle bit as being related to predecessors and stuff.
Enjoy! :)
Mr. Captain Hero Sir wasn’t wearing his scarf.
The one constant Ravio knew he could always count on during the war, was that the captain would be wearing that bright blue scrap of cloth with all the pride in the world, no matter what the circumstances (good grief, one time he’d stumbled upon the man bathing and the scarf had been the only thing that saved them both from embarrassment). But today, he wasn’t.
The heroes had come to stay at Mr. Hero’s house again after a long battle, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir was currently sitting on the couch in the living room, one arm resting across it’s back and his feet propped up on the table. A scowl marred his fine features and his neck was horrifyingly naked.
“Mr. Captain Hero Sir! Where is your scarf?” The words were out of his mouth in a moment as he looked around the captain to make sure it simply hadn’t fallen off or been laid aside (things the captain would never let happen, ever. He’d once been bleeding out and still managed to keep the trailing blue fabric out of the mud.)
“It’s shredded.” The captain sighed, a bitter look in his eyes as he motioned down to the arm hanging from a sling around his neck. “And I’m currently unable to mend it.”
The thought of the captain not having a scarf was so utterly horrible, simply unthinkable, that Ravio didn’t even think about what he was doing, instead bounding over to plonk himself onto the couch and quickly unwind his scarf before rewinding it around the captain’s neck (he had a dozen of these things anyway).
“There! You can’t be without a scarf.”
Mr. Captain Hero Sir smiled fondly, fingers reaching up to gently stroke the fabric. “And you can?”
Ravio shrugged. “I have a dozen of those, keep it, it looks fabulous on you!”
The captain’s eyes sparkled brightly, a familiar cockiness erupting within. “Are you kidding? I make everything look good! Even the Vet’s fashion choices would look fabulous on me!”
Ravio sniggered. He’d heard and seen plenty of the goods from Hytopia, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr. Hero even knew what fashion was. But then again, he was just a simple Lolian; for all he knew, things like bomb outfits and heart shaped collars were absolutely acceptable and normal in this world.
“But where is your scarf, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?” He asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side as the man looked at him oddly.
“Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You can call me Warriors like everyone else you know.”
“I know, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, I don’t mind.”
Mr. Captain Hero Sir blinked. “O-kay.” Shaking his head, he answered. “Legend has it. Since I can’t use my dominant hand, he said he’d stitch it up for me.” The captain hero nodded towards the corner of the room, and Ravio followed his line of sight.
Mr. Hero was perched in that Lolia-awful rocking chair that had been in the house since Nayru knows when. It was a horrid thing in his opinion, old, out of style and absolutely stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d shoved it into the furthest corner of the room ages ago. Mr. Hero loved it though, although he never said why, and he didn’t seem to mind that it was now nearly next to the fireplace all the time, even if he did have to pull it out of the corner to properly rock in it.
Mr. Hero sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other one hanging down to gently push at the floor, making the big chair rock steadily. Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s scarf lay in his lap and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a needle in his hand as he dutifully labored over the brilliant blue fabric of the famed scarf.
“His eyesight is terrible.” Ravio snickered to the Captain.
“But his hearing is perfect.” Mr. Hero’s voice rang clearly across the room, violet gaze darting up to look at them disapprovingly over the top of his spectacles.
The minute he looked away, merchant and captain shared a grin, only to burst into muffled laughter.
...
Mr. Smithy and Tune are cold.
It’s obvious from the way the two huddle in place at the kitchen table as everyone enjoys the meal that Ravio and Mr. Hero have pulled together (Mr. Hero is hesitant to let even the finest of chefs in his kitchen for some reason, despite having stated that Mr. Champion Hero is a very good cook and better than him (at cooking, life, or heroing, he does not specify)). Tune- Wind has all but attached himself to Sky’s side, using the bigger hero as a heat source as he slurps down his warm stew, and Mr. Smithy has bundled himself against the Mr. Rancher.
It’s only autumn, but both of the smaller heroes act like it’s the start of winter with the way they shiver and rub at their arms.
Mr. Hero’s only response when he asks is to sigh, but when he presses, his pink haired doppelganger eventually explains. “Their Hyrules were never corrupted, so they’re used to warmer weather most of the time, if not always. The mist from the ocean is the worst Wind knows, and heaven only knows if Four could survive a proper freeze.” Mr. Hero shakes his head, wiping the last of the broth from their meal off a plate with his dish-rag. “If they need something, they know to ask.”
But Mr. Hero isn’t really that cold hearted, he’s worrying too if the way his brows furrow and the lines around his mouth deepen is any indication. “I offered blankets, but they don’t want them.”
“Does this happen often?” He muses as he takes the plates from Mr. Hero to dry and put away, and to his displeasure, his housemate nods.
“When we come here or to Sky’s Hyrule, yeah. Usually, Wars will bundle them up in his scarf, or Sky with his sailcloth, even Twilight shares his fur, but...” Mr. Hero’s ears twitch irritably (truly adorable how they do that, although he’ll never say as much). “Sky’s asleep with his cape, the wolf pelt is a bloody mess after that battle, and I haven’t finished mending Wars’ scarf.” The ears flap again. “That thing is so dang complex and Warriors apparently hasn’t the faintest about the proper cloth to use to mend it. He used new material to mend a hole! Brand new material, Ravio! It’s an awful state and I swear if Styla could see it she’d faint dead away!” The vet huffed as he plunged another dish under the sudsy water of the wash tub. “Using new cloth on a worn scarf, it’s like he wants the thing to be ruined...”
Ah yes, Mr. Hero’s rants. There’d be no righting this one until he’d fixed the problem, and considering he’d only been torn away from the scarf that lay peacefully sitting on his rocker in order to make food, it was quite likely that once his kitchen was clean again, he’d be right back to working on it.
Ravio smiled, Mr. Captain Hero Sir would be quite pleased.
His gaze traveled over to where the hero in question was sitting. The captain and Tu- Wind, were talking on the couch, the younger staring nearly longingly at the rocker and the scarf on top of it.
Kid really liked that scarf, huh? If Ravio remembered right, half the time during his adventure with Mr. Captain Hero Sir, he’d constantly seen either Mask or Tune hanging onto it.
Somewhere inside of a bunny head, an idea sparked and green eyes brightened excitedly.
He’d donned a new scarf just before dinner, but it wouldn’t do quite right, so instead, he darted off to his room, much to the displeasure of his dish partner as his rag flew into Mr. Hero’s face and left his housemate spluttering indignantly.
“Ravio! You didn’t finish-”
“One sec!”
Mr. Hero’s grumbles followed him out of the kitchen, but faded as he darted into his room and towards his wardrobe. It was the work of moments to select two of his largest scarfs, and less time than that to dart back out to the living room and wrap one around each of the smaller heroes.
“There! Snug as a kit in a quilt!”
Two small heroes stared down at the black and purple fabric that now draped around their shoulders, smiles brightening their flushed faces as Tune buried his face happily in the fabric with a bright hum.
“Thanks, Ravio!”
“Thank you.” Four’s eyes glimmered warm brown as he sunk into his seat, only the top of his face and his hands visible beneath the striped fabric.
Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s eyes sparkled as the man looked up at him, and Ravio fought the blush that rose in his cheeks as he fiddled with his own scarf (he’d mess with his sleeves, but he’d shed his robe to help do the dishes, and his undershirt wasn’t nearly long enough to fiddle with). “Don’t mention it, it’s-” He chewed his lip for a moment before a smile broke loose, the one Mr. Hero said was cheesy and fake, the one for when he was trying to sell things. “It’s a complimentary gift for exceptional customers and/or guests!”
“We’ve never bought anything from you.” Four deadpanned, eyes glinting with a smile Ravio couldn’t see past all the scarf in the way.
“Yet!” Ravio chirped back, and darted back into the kitchen to help Mr. Hero finish doing the dishes.
...
Mr. Champion keeps rubbing his scars.
The heroes had left for a short spell, traveling off to fight more monsters only to be dumped in the orchard a week or so later (Mr. Hero said it’d been a month and a half for them, but by his time it was a week). And when Ravio said they’d been dumped in the orchard, he meant in the orchard. He’d been busy picking some of the ripened apples before the birds took them all (most of the wild birds knew better, but still, it was the principle of the thing, fresh fruit was rare in Lorule) when a shout and the snapping of branches had sounded all about him.
Ravio had shrieked in surprise, thinking that he was alone only to find (once he’d removed his hood again) that there were nine heroes hanging from various tree branches around him, and Mr. Hero himself was hanging upside down, one foot caught in the branches, as his face dangled inches from Ravio’s own, a scowl darkening it as a string of mumbles escaped his room-mate.
He couldn’t stop himself, he kissed Mr. Hero’s twitching nose.
Mr. Hero shrieked in surprise, jerking in place and effectively loosening himself from the tree, falling all over Ravio in the process. It was worth it, Ravio giggled as he lay on the ground. Mr. Hero was so like the bunnies in Lorule and their noses simply demanded to be kissed.
Laughter and grumbles sounded around them, the heroes pulling themselves down from the trees around them.
Captain Hero Sir Jr. moved with surprising ease, despite his heavy armor, clambering down the tree with the same grace that Mr. Champion did most of the time. Some things never change, he could still see him climbing up onto Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s shoulders in the same manner (only now he rather doubted either of them would attempt to do that anymore, Captain Hero Sir Jr. was much bigger now).
It felt entirely too natural to lead them all up to the house, Mr. Hero trailing at the back with a bushel of apples in his arms. Settling them all down in the kitchen was easy as could be, and he and Mr. Hero worked quickly to set some fresh apple cider to boil before starting on a meal for everyone.
He missed not having them all around, it was going to be awful dull when they all had to go back to their worlds when this adventure was over again.
He was determined to enjoy the moment for that very reason while they all sat about in the living room, sipping apple cider as Mr. Hero had settled down in his blasted rocker, spectacles on his nose and more mending in hand. He never would rest until the light was faded, and Ravio had half a mind to take out his knitting (he was still currently short three scarves) before he decided to simply flop down on the nearest open spot on the couch and just enjoy his cider.
Except, Mr. Champion was sitting in the seat beside him.
The young hero kept rubbing at his scars, eyes distant, and despite the numerous amounts of times that either Mr. Captain Hero Sir or Mr. Rancher tried to move his hands back down to the still full mug he was cradling in his other hand, Mr. Champion (he was younger than Ravio though...would Mr. Be an appropriate title for him?) kept reaching right back up to rub his neck and face.
The scars were enflamed, harsh red and puffy where they peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and it made Ravio wince to even think of how he’d acquired such injuries that would scar so.
He only winced more with every drag of broken nails and rough finger pads over the skin, but Mr. Champion- Wild? He could think of him as Wild right? He was kind of the kid’s uncle in a weird way- didn't seem to even notice that he was doing it. Cornflower blue eyes stared unseeing into the fire, face still and only his hands moving.
Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, worry pulling his lovely face into shadows as he grasped Wild’s hands again. “Wild, hey, no more of that, okay? You’re hurting yourself.”
Fingers twitched, but no other movement came from the young Champion until Mr. Captain Hero Sir (wait, was Wild also Captain Hero Sir Jr.? Or was he Champion Hero? Oh fiddlesticks, he wasn’t sure anymore) let go, and then broken nails moved right back up towards swollen flesh.
Ravio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.
Mr. Hero had spaced out before, did it a lot when the sun set or when he was outside, but he never scratched like that. He sang and fiddled with his rings. If Wild Champion Jr. Sir (oh heavens) did something like that, it would be fine, but this was... this was rather unsettling.
Ravio shifted in his seat, curling around his mug as Mr. Captain Hero Sir had to reach out to stop the wild-child's hands from reaching the inflamed wounds (the last scratch had broken skin, and a thin trail of red has appeared).
It was without a thought that he acted, pushing his mug into the captain’s hands and promptly looping his scarf around Wild Champion Hero Captain Jr.’s (oh Lolia help) neck.
Thoughtless fingers nose just as before, but this time, they brushed against soft fabric. Ravio tensed, dearly hoping that his scarf would not be ripped off or simply pushed aside.
To the surprise of all of them, rough fingers brushed over the fabric, paused, and gently stroked its material. The Champion’s face did not move, but slowly, long fingers ran down the fabric, rubbing it between their tips as cornflower blue eyes blinked slowly. In an instant, the young hero’s gaze was lost to sight as the fabric was nuzzled with all the fondness of a cub nuzzling their parent.
“He likes scarves, of course he does.” Mr. Rancher chuckled wearily, a tired smile playing over his features as both he and Mr. Captain Hero Sir sat back (but not before Ravio took his mug back).
“So he does.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, eyes fond as he watched the hero in question curl up on the couch, face lost in purple fabric and bare toes the only moving part of the kid. The wiggling toes were almost like a dog wagging its tail, but weirder, still, he wasn’t one to judge.
Mr. Captain hero Sir caught his eye. “Thank you, Ravio.”
“Customer loyalty.” He murmured softly into his mug.
He caught the way Mr. Hero and the others stared at him though, and he could only be thankful his hood shaded his face enough to hide his pleased blush.
...
Mr. Rancher needs to wear more color.
It’s like looking at the photos of Mr. Hero from just before he’d come around. Mr. Hero always fussed at him for going through things, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how odd his room-mate looked with black hair and dark clothes. “You dyed it?”
“For safety reasons. How many people have you see in Hyrule with pink hair of all things? It was a dead giveaway!”
“But you’re the hero?”
“A hero whose face was plastered on every wanted poster in Hyrule. Still is in some cases.” Mr. Hero had grumbled, folding the last piece of newly clean washing and throwing a pointed glare in his direction. “Life on the run sucks. I was thirteen and just wanted to be ignored.”
A glance at the dark haired but smiling youngster in the photo and back up to the bitter pink haired hero he knew told him (even if Mr. Hero hadn’t already) how well that wish had been fulfilled.
But seriously, those photos at least showed Mr. Hero with some color. The most Mr. Rancher wore was that horrid sash and obi, and the orange and blue looked simply terrible with his color scheme, something that, when brought up to Mr. Hero, his friend seemed to agree with, stating that ‘he’d never get into Hytopia’s capitol looking like that’.
Ravio had never been to Hytopia, but based on the stories and mannerisms Mr. Hero took on after that adventure, he can only agree.
Originally, he’d hoped he could simply find something among his wares that he could sell to Mr. Rancher, but that proved to only be so effective, after all, when one sells weapons and items, it’s hard finding a normal piece of clothing amidst all the blessed or charmed pieces.
Oh well, he was counting on ending up sharing the rest of his scarves with them all anyway.
It wasn’t any dramatic or particularly touching moment when he walked up and slung a clean scarf around the rancher’s shoulders, but Mr. Rancher, after initially starting, smiled as he touched the sun-warmed material. Of course, that expression quickly faded into one of awe as the hero squeezed the fabric lightly.
Mr. Rancher’s eyes lit up like a dog being given a new toy (Ravio wasn’t stupid, he knew a dog when he saw one) and the man proceeded to continue squeezing and petting the springy fabric with eyes sparkling as if Ravio had just handed him the stars themselves.
He was down to two scarves now, but it was worth it.
...
Mr. Traveler Hero is small.
He is small, and wild, and the clothes he’s wearing are nearly too small. The traveler is a growing child (never mind that he’s still a teenager himself) and he’s out and about in nearly threadbare garments that leave Ravio shivering at the mere thought of wearing.
And this is the other hero who grew up in a corrupted world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it should and the winters are always too long.
Ravio doesn’t think twice when he sees the first signs of cold in the young hero. He’s got two scarfs recently made, and he’s only too happy to share.
Purple and black stripes nearly drown the young hero when he walks over and wraps not one, but two of the comfiest scarves he’s ever made around the youngster's neck.
Like Mr. Rancher, nothing is said or done immediately, but Mr. Traveler Hero smile at him shyly, holding up a hand and scampering over to his bag.
The pair of polished stones he’s given don’t make much sense, but he catches sight of Mr. Hero and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Both smiling over at the two through the doorways.
“Thank you.” He murmurs warmly, tucking the rocks in his pocket.
“Thank you.!” Mr. Traveler smiles in return, eyes twinkling in the shade of the room and scarf tails flapping like the four wings of a fairy as he spins around to show them to Mr. Hero.
...
Captain Hero Sir Jr. has nothing comfy to wear.
Once more, the heroes had been whisked away, and once more they’d appeared at the house weeks later, looking exhausted and utterly soaked.
The chill autumn rain might be to blame for that.
Mr. Hero hadn’t even protested that... Wild (he’d just call him Wild, he couldn’t do this title thing this time) had bustled off into the kitchen to warm some tea, and instead promptly collapsing in all his soaked glory onto the couch.
The other heroes followed suit, and Ravio (like a good host) immediately hopped up and fetched some blankets. Mr. Rancher was already stoking the fire, and with a bit of work, Ravio was able to help Mr. Her grasp what was left of his own steaming mug of cider (his hands were quite the state in this bitter weather) before popping off to the kitchen to brew more of the sweet apply goodness to share with the heroes.
Armor and over-clothes had been stripped off, sitting wet and dripping in one corner (Mr. Hero eyes it with distaste, knowing just as Ravio did just what that would be doing to the floor) but neither housekeeper said anything, Mr. Hero nursing his cider and letting its warmth sooth his gnarled fingers, and Ravio puttering about with a kettle and mugs to share with everyone else.
Blankets had been pulled from the shelves and were cast around quaking shoulders as chattering teeth uttered breathy thanks to the purple-robed merchant.
There was nothing like being thanked for good service, and Ravio beamed as he passed between them.
That smile faded however when he noticed Captain Hero Sir Jr.
The man sat in a thin linen shirt and under-armor, looking far from being near the level of comfort that the rest did in their undershirts and pants (or a dress in Mr. Hero’s case).
Come to think of it he’d never seen Captain Hero Sir Jr. dress in any comfortable manner since he’d come along behind Mr. Hero that first time since they’d started this adventure. Did the poor kid- er... Man, not have anything comfortable to wear?
While the heroes slept that night, in the two bedrooms and sprawled across the couch, Ravio kept Mr. Hero comfortable, sitting before the fire with his knitting needles while Mr. Hero repaired yet more damaged clothing (poor mister Chosen Hero’s sailcloth had been damaged somehow).
Usually, one or the other of them would eventually remind the other to go to bed, but both were so wrapped up in their work (Mr. Hero started singing even, that goddess ballad Miss. Princess told hm about) that neither seemed to remember to check the clock, or even to go to bed.
Come morning, Ravio finds that he has fallen asleep wrapped in the tails of the scarf he’d been making, and Mr. Hero has become entangled in his mending, a peaceful smile on his face, worn fabric brushing his cheeks and spectacles teetering precariously on the tip of his nose.
Mr. Chosen Hero is the one who wakes them up, stirring awake with a violent sneeze, but he smiles fondly when he lays eyes on them, opening his arms in an offer of a cuddle if either feels inclined to return to sleep. Neither does, but Ravio appreciates it, and even if Mr. Hero doesn’t say as much (quite the opposite really) he knows his friend does too.
The day is normal, as far as a day with nine heroes in the house can be, and with the rain still pouring, they spend their time cleaning, although Mr. Hero shoos them all away after a time because they’re not doing it the right way (AKA Mr. Hero's very practiced manner of cleaning and organizing). It’s after Mr. Hero had shooed them all into the main room while he organizes the basement (thank goodness, it's an awful mess down there) that the talk starts.
It’s cold out, and most of the heroes have donned the scarves they’ve been gifted over time (Ravio isn’t blushing, he’s not). Smiles shine and laughter rings as they explain to their brothers how they’d some to have them.
“And he just... threw t at me! Not a word, not an explanation, just came up and tossed it over my shoulders.” Mr. Rancher chuckles. “Kinda like how my ma would do when I was a tot, jist wrap it up and ‘round soon as the cold weather came a’creepin’ up.”
The others nod, smiles fond. Ravio beams as he lights the candle set near the masks on the wall.
“I had one too once,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Muses aloud. “Back in the war, you remember, Wars?”
“Do I ever.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir smirks. “I used to tie you up with that thing when you got too rowdy.”
“You and the general both.” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Chuckles, soft and deep and so different from his nearly witch level cackle that Ravio remembers.
“What ever happened to it?” He asks curiously, blowing out his match and turning to move towards the rest of the group.
Captain Hero Sir Jr. Smiles at him, eyes far older but far more at peace than they used to be. “I outgrew it. It was a child’s scarf, even if it was a bit big at the time. I considered bringing it, but it just doesn’t do much anymore.” A thin smile pulls at his features, almost guilty as he admits “I didn’t take the best care of my clothes as a kid.”
Well, that doesn’t matter over much. Ravio smiles at his young (old) friend, and around him he can hear the others whisper and laugh. They know what’s happening, and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Does too if the twinkle in his eyes is to be believed, so Ravio makes a point of flourishing his gift with all the fuss he can before reverently draping the garment around the tall man’s neck. The eldest hero has to stoop, even from where he’s sitting on the couch, so that Ravio can reach, but it only adds to the mock reverence as Ravio adorns another bare neck with one of his toasty scarves.
“Mind you take care of that one,” He scolds lightly. “I was up all night making it.”
“Yes sir.” Captain hero Sir Jr. responds with a playful smile in his eyes, even if his face is the picture of obedience.
Giggles sound around them, and despite hating it, Ravio takes the only seat left available (he really hates that rocker) and curls up. “You all be quiet now, I’m tired and need a nap.”
“Okay, gramps.” The sailor whispers faintly, a giggle in his tone as titters and chuckles erupt.
Strangely, it doesn't take too long for Ravio to doze off, especially when Mr. Hero settles in beside him and starts to rock the stupid chair, humming lightly as fingers work over another project, the light buzz of activity all around them as Ravio allows himself to be carried into dreamland.
...
Mr. Chosen Hero has caught cold.
He’s not surprised, not with how drenched the others all were day before last, but the Skyloftian is shivering madly, miserably sniffing into handkerchiefs and trying his best to avoid drinking the nasty herbal teas that Mr. Hero claims are good for people. Ravio doesn’t care if Mr. Hero drinks them, but for pities sake, drink black tea if you’re going to drink tea! What sort of decent being are you if you’re just drinking plant water?
“Legend, I’m serious, I don’t-” Mr. Chosen Hero breaks off coughing. “I don’t think tea will-” Another cough, nastier than the last. “I don’t think it will help.”
“Trust me.” Mr. Hero already has a small table pulled up to Mr. Chosen Hero’s side, tea and handkerchiefs both set carefully on top. “Tea’s just what you need. Eucalyptus does wonders for a cold.”
“He’s right.” Mr. Traveler Hero chimes in, gaze warm and sleepy as he sips some of the tea himself. “And it’s got a calming effect.”
Mr. Hero cocks a brow. “What are you, ‘Rule, a koala?”
No one knows what that is, except Mr. Traveler Hero, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, as Mr. Chosen Hero breaks into another coughing fit and bundles a blanket closer around his shoulders, voice hoarse when he speaks. “I wish it’d stop raining. I didn’t even realize-” A cough sounds and is followed by a sniffle. “I didn’t realize the surface got so wet.”
And Ravio sees where this is going, the shivering hero, the gentle atmosphere. He doesn’t bother waiting for Mr. Chosen Hero to sniffle again, he just wraps a scarf around the man’s neck, tucking it in close enough to keep the heat in.
The smile exchanged is silent, and Ravio is thankful that the others aren’t about at present to tease, only Mr. Hero and Mr. Traveler Hero are here with them, and neither says a word as they sip their leaf water.
“I’ll make you some real tea.” He murmurs softly, offering a wink and a gentle pat to the knee before he’s off towards the kitchen.
...
Mr. Hero doesn’t have a scarf.
It was glaringly obvious, as whenever the rest of them appeared at the house, they'd all be wearing their Ravio gifted scarfs proudly, smiles on their faces as the ends trailed or dragged after them (despite that, they were all in perfect condition).
But Mr. Hero didn’t have a scarf.
He was never going to get one either.
They’ve all just returned to the house (it’s been two months since the last visit) and the snow outside it up to Ravio’s waist in places. It took him ages to shovel himself out of the house, but the harvest of apples is in and the bees are well prepared for the winter, and Mr. Hero finally tidied the cellar enough that they have room for food storage aplenty.
Cider and tea are brewed as the heroes gather, fluffy socks and scarves on full display as they sit around the fire.
Mr. Hero is shivering.
Curious glances are thrown at both himself and Mr. Hero as the heroes drink their beverage of choice, concern in their gazes as Legend eventually gets up to pull the most ridiculously bulky quilt in the entire house over his shoulders. He’s all pink in the face and he’s shaking like a leaf, and it’s only because he won’t hold still that Ravio hasn’t attempted to try and help him hold a warm mug enough for his fingers to relax.
Mr. Hero moves like a man thrice his age, if not more, and he creaks worse than the roof does in the wind outside.
“Where’s your scarf, vet?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs softly, one brow raised as he watches Mr. Hero fumble with the quilts edge.
“My what?”
Glances are exchanged among the others. “Your scarf? The one Ravio gave you?”
“I don’t have a scarf.” Mr. Hero answers, dropping the quilt again with a scowl that makes his nose wiggle.
“But” Cornflower blue dart between himself and his housemate. “Aren’t you two friends? How do you not already have a scarf? Even Time did!”
“It’s a customer service thing.” Mr. Hero murmurs. “I’m already a loyal customer, so he doesn’t waste resources on trying to earn my loyalty. That, and I don’t wear purple.”
He shakes his head, loosening his scarf as the eyes of the others twinkle, but rather than taking it off, he only loosens one end, before wrapping it tightly around his friend’s neck, fluffing up the quilt in both of their laps, and settling a warm mug of cider in Mr. Hero’s hands.
“Nonsense!” he chirps, trying not to be hurt at the obvious surprise on his friend's face, so he muses Mr. Hero’s hair instead. “You have every item I offer except this scarf. Why would you keep buying from me if you get it? I have to keep you from having one until I get something better in, otherwise business will plummet!”
Knowing smiles are exchanged amidst the others, but Mr. Hero just sighs and shakes his head, leaning slightly into Ravio’s side as he sips his cider.
A bitter expression overtakes Mr. Hero’s face. “You forgot the cloves.”
“Oh shoot!”
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#scarf fic#scarf man#ravio#lu warriors#lu wind#lu four#lu wild#lu twilight#lu time#lu sky#lu hyrule#lu legend#scarf#fluffics#I almost forgot Hyrule!#I'm so sorry baby!
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my beyblade fic masterpost
a new masterlist because this blog doesn’t have one yet + i made some changes to my fics anyways (like. named them for example) so here’s to a fresh start with a new list
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
THE 4KINGDOMS-VERSE
the Tale of Four Kingdoms — A story about Takao, Kai, Rei, and Max being the four kings of a fantasy universe divided into four different kingdoms, named after cardinal directions. Each young and troubled in his own way, the four get to know each other little by little, delve deep into the secrets of the four kingdoms and their relations as they do, and form some secrets of their own as well. (WIP)
the Tale of Four Kingdoms: Other Tales — Oneshots written as a warm-up for the Beyblade Week fandom event in May 2021, one prompt-based oneshot of each kingdom to complement the 4kingdoms story/universe.
Springtime is upon us (firsts / childhood / spring)
Fired up by the sun (friendship / beach / summer)
The pleasure of a bountiful harvest (fashion / flowers / autumn)
In the harsh breath of a horrid wind (fears / animals / winter)
✧ ✦ ✧
OTHER MULTICHAPTER STORIES
the Heart That I Love — A Max-centric story about him being a piano prodigy and the son of a world-famous pianist attending a competitive music school in New York - and the development of his relationship with Rei, a no-name violinist from China who turns out to have a surprising connection to Max's best friend, Mao. (WIP)
15 Fragments of Summer — One summer, Max and Rei decide to come up with a plan to get Kai and Takao together -- at any cost. However, it doesn't exactly work out the way they thought.
✧ ✦ ✧
ONESHOTS
AU oneshots junkyard — A collective of my (mostly Rei/Max) AU oneshots.
Eine Waldmär — Takao lives in a hut surrounded by a scary forest. One day he decides to leave on an adventure to find a silver-haired boy he once saw. (Fairy tale + monster AU)
Missgeschick — Rei goes to Judy's coffee shop in order to hit on her, as prompted by his classmates, but falls for her son instead. (Coffee shop AU)
Denk An Mich — Max learns about the concept of soulmates from a book he borrows from Hiromi. (Soulmate AU)
Das Spiel — Rei, the junior world champion in chess, has a fateful encounter in a tournament final. (Chess player AU)
Die Rosen — Yuriy is a judgmental flower shop worker who gets a couple of very puzzling customers. (Flower shop + fake dating AU)
Der Junge und der Tod — After a chain of strange occurrences, Max accepts the possibility that he's being haunted. (Bakeneko ghost AU)
Loreley — Rei is a starved vampire who finds his way to a forest lake. (Vampire + merboy AU)
Zauber der Nacht — Magical mayhem follows Takao, Max, and Manabu on a school trip in Okinawa. (Magical boy AU)
Dunkle Stunde — The consequences of a showdown on one fateful night. (Mafia AU → see Haureutta, himoa ja valuuttaa below)
✦ ✦ ✦
NSFW AU oneshots junkyard — A NSFW addition to the regular junkyard.
Haureutta, himoa ja valuuttaa — Max is a mafia boss, Rei is an assassin and Max's right-hand man, and they have a rather colorful history -- and a peculiar, steamy relationship. (Mafia AU)
Irstauden ilosanoma — Max, a chubby girl who’s lost her spark for blading, has very little motivation to participate in the world championships as part of the PPB All Starz until she finds out that Rei, a model that Max is a huge fan of, is also participating as a member of the Chinese team. (Genderbend AU)
✦ ✦ ✦
Mistletoe — A short, silly story about the BBA kids and a mistletoe.
Summer night ghost stories — Takao, Hiromi, Max, and Rei gather together one summer night to tell some scary stories - and Rei can't bring himself to admit how scared he actually is...
Double Date Dilemma — In desperation to improve her relations with Mao, Emily agrees to go on a PPB & Baihuzu double date.
By the ocean — Rei thinks he’s made a mistake.
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
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For the very amazing and wonderful and super super kind @sirrriusblack. I cannot believe I’ve only known you for a year and I’m so so glad I know you Kay Kay. Happy birthday and I love you so very very much.
~~~~~~
The dorm was silent at this time of night. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago and the only sound came from the soft rise and fall of people breathing and the quiet rustling of the curtains.
Marlene always insisted on leaving the window partially open. Lily could never figure out why but she just went with it.
The autumn breeze blew the curtains around causing them to look like ghosts under the pale light of the moon.
They’re mesmerizing to watch, and quite frankly Lily doesnt have anything better to do.
She’s found that she can’t sleep. Her homework had been done hours ago and everyone else had gone to bed. So curtain staring is currently her best source of entertainment.
Although it’s beginning to grow boring. It’s only so long that you can stare at strips of fabric fluttering with the wind.
She’s not sure what makes her decide, but next thing Lily knows she’s pulling on a pair of shoes and leaving the dorm. Heading down the stairs and making her way swiftly to the portrait hole.
It’s chilly in the hallway, and the silence makes her footfalls echo across the stone.
She lets her feet carry her wherever they wish, not quite paying attention to where she’s going.
However, when she reaches the quidditch pitch, it becomes apparent what her subconscious is doing.
She sighs a bit. “Of all the places.”
No use turning back now, she’s already here. Besides, she wanted to get out of the dorm and now she is.
If it was cold inside the halls of the school, it’s freezing out on the pitch. Whats even better is that Lily realizes that she forgot a jumper, or anything warmer than pajamas, really.
She sits on the ground, deciding to lay back in the grass. It’s peaceful out here, quiet. Lily can’t help but let her eyes close as she enjoys the peace being outside brings.
“Well you’re out late.”
The voice startles her despite its familiarity and she jolts upwards.
Jamec chuckles from where he hovers in the air on his broom. “Sorry,” he says, running his free hand through his hair and offering a somewhat sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Lily ignores the way her heart skips at beat at his laugh and soft smile.
“You’re one to talk,” she counters. “I’m not the only one outside.”
James snickers. “You got me there,” he says, hopping off the broom and sitting beside her. “What are you doing out here?”
Lily shrugs. “Couldn't sleep. You?”
James leans back onto his elbows, another one of his signature smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Captain of the quidditch team, Lils. Take every moment to train that I can.”
Lily raises an eyebrow. “It’s three in the morning, James.”
“Okay fine,” he sighs. “Couldn't sleep. Better?”
“Much.”
James just laughs and rolls his eyes, laying back and then folding his arms behind his head.
The two of them stay like that for a while, staring up at the stars.
“You just come out here when you can’t sleep?.” Lily asks eventually.
“Yep. So do you apparently.”
“Wasn’t intentional. Just kind of let my feet carry me, yknow.”
James turns onto his side, grinning. “Thinking about me Evans?”
Yes, she thinks.
“In your dreams, Potter,” she says, which only makes James laugh again.
Lily has to suppress a sigh. She’s started noticing things. The sort of things she’d have ignored last year and the year before.
Things like the way James’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs. The dimples on his cheeks and the one on his chin. The way his eyelashes curl ever so slightly, just enough so that they don’t touch his glasses.
James stands so suddenly it almost startles her as much as when he arrived.
“Where are you going?”
James shrugs. “Flying.”
“Now?” Lily asks, slightly incredulous.
James nods at his already floating and previously abandoned broom. “Yep. Can’t see why not.”
“You’re blind enough in the daylight James, it’s not even remotely sunny out.”
He waves a nonchalant hand at her. “Quidditch Captain instincts.”
“You’re an idiot, Potter,” she mutters. Although if she’s being perfectly honest she’s thinking he’s several other things too.
“Maybe,” he says.
Lily shakes her head. “Definitely.”
She watches as James climbs back on his broom, expecting him to take off at any moment.
“You’re staring,” James points out.
“I’m not.” It probably sounds a bit too indignant to be believable and Lily is suddenly very thankful for how the darkness covers most of the blush that’s spread across her cheeks.
James only chuckles. “If you say so.”
He regards her curiously for a moment.
“Look who’s staring now.”
“Not staring, thinking.”
“About?”
James shrugs a bit. “You should come with me.”
Lily blinks in confusion. It takes a solid thirty seconds of staring at him blankly for it to click.
“Oh you mean up there,” she shakes her head quickly. “Yeah, no, I don’t fly.”
“Well you wouldn’t be,” he says and Lily rolls her eyes.
“You know what I meant.”
“Did I?”
“James.”
“Well where’s the harm in it.”
“Well theres-“ she stops short, not able to think of any suitable reasons.
“I was made quiddtich captain for a reason, Evans. Wasn't because I can’t fly.”
Lily just sighs.
“Do you trust me?” He asks.
And she does, probably a lot more than she should.
Its why she finds herself standing and walking to his side.
“Yes, I do.”
The smile he gives her in return makes this idiotic sky adventure worth it.
A breeze spins through the air and Lily, who is rather forcibly reminded that she should’ve brought something warmer, shivers.
It doesn’t escape James’ notice and he frowns.
“You’re cold,” he says.
Lily snorts. “I didn’t notice.”
Then, before she can protest it, James has taken off his jumper and is extending it to her.
“Take it,” he says upon seeing the look on her face. “Really, I mean it. I’ll be warm enough when we get in the air.”
It’s never been a good idea to try and argue something with James Potter. So with no more protest than a small sigh, she slips it over her head.
The jumper is warm, about three sizes too big, and despite being the standard quidditch sweater, it’s distinctly James.
“Thanks,” she mutters.
“Anytime, Lils,” he returns. Then, “You probably want to get on now, can’t do much flying if you’re still standing there.”
“Oh, right.”
She settles herself onto the back of the broom. And after a quick check in, they take off.
Lily can’t help the way her arms tighten around James’ waist as they pitch upwards.
“Alright, Evans?” He asks, and Lily can feel the way his small laugh vibrates through his chest.
“Mhm yep.”
She’s trying mostly not to think about how far down the ground is. Or why the hell anyone would want to play quidditch.
As if sensing this, James says, “Eyes up, Lils. All the interesting things are up here.”
She hums in agreement as she looks up at the stars.
“Hold on,” James whispers and then he leans forward a bit.
How fast they’re going is soon lost to Lily as they streak across the grounds of the school. Spiraling upwards towards the top of the astronomy tower and then down to the lake, low enough for her fingers to skim the water.
She’s starting to see why he likes it up here. Nothing but the stars, the sky, and the air. The air that's fanning her hair out around her face and makes James smile as it brushes his face.
There’s a moment when when he turns back to look at her. The corners of his eyes crinkling into his telltale smile.
Of all the people she had to fall for at school it had to be James Potter.
The one boy she’d spent years being annoyed with and trying to ignore. And now, after all this time, he was the one she wanted the most. The irony of it was that since they had become friends, it seemed as though he wanted it to stay that way. Lily could deal with being friends. It was better than whatever the hell had been going on in years prior.
Or perhaps it wasn’t. At least then she didn’t feel the small pang in her chest when he smiled at her.
They touch back down onto the ground far too soon for Lily’s liking. James gets down first, offering a hand to help her jump down.
She lets her hand stay in his far longer than she should’ve and when she looks up at him to see if he’s noticed, she finds that he’s looking in the other direction.
“Well?” He asks when he finally turns back.
“Okay, I’ll admit that was fun.”
The triumphant look on his face makes her laugh.
“Don’t get too excited. Quidditch is still a ridiculous sport.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” he says.
She walks with him as he puts his broom away, and then the two of them walk back into the castle, all the way up to Gryffindor tower.
It’s not until she’s at the foot of the stairs to her dorm that she realizes she still has his sweater on.
“Oh! I forgot to give this back!” She’s staring to take it off, but he stops her by placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Keep it,” he says. “I’ve got plenty.”
She doesn’t have an answer for that and it’s not long before James says goodnight and heads up to his own room.
Later, when she’s back in her bed, Lily finds herself staring at that curtain again. She’s fiddling with a loose seam on one of the sleeves as she looks at the curtain.
The way the red and gold of it billows in the wind. It reminds her of when they were flying, and suddenly the curtain looks much less like a ghost and more and more like James.
She supposes that they’re the same things. The curtain ghost and James Potter. Like a ghost, James Potter is someone she can’t have.
But at least they’re friends she thinks. And as she falls asleep in the jumper he gave her she slowly realizes that maybe, that’s not enough for her.
#It’s kinda fluffy???#ish??#I’m an angst writer#I can’t fluff#but here have an offering of my Jily hyperfixation#hopefully I didn’t switch tenses a bajillion times#but ah well it happens#anyways#HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAYAKKK#I LOVE YOUUU#James Potter#Lily Evans#jily#jily headcanon#jily fic#Marauders era#Harry Potter
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