#(meant to say shoving it in the queue for ads)

[gentaroukisaragi]

Desert skies good.

[twostepstyless]

The H-Bomb

Fic Advent Calendar Day 12

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Author’s Note: Y/N is stuck in the queue for the post office while on the phone to Harry and considers a way to let her skip the queue

As always, likes, reblogs and feedback of all and any variety is greatly appreciated - G <3

Word Count: 1.1k

———

“H, this is bloody awful,” Y/N’s voice crackled down the phone. Harry had just called, the pair had left the house at the same time this morning and he was surpised to see Y/N wasn’t back when he was. 

“Where are you?” Harry had the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he unclipped their dog Vinnie from his leash and began to towel dry his paws before Vinnie ran off to get some water. 

“Still in the post office, the queue is mental H,” she sighed before adding quietly, so as no one around her heard what she whispered, “and I keep letting the little old people skip me so they can collect their pension.” Harry cackled down the phone at Y/N’s overly kind nature. “It’s jus’ cold Harry and they don’t need to be hanging about in queues all day,” she justified as she waved another old dear in front of her even if it meant she had been in the post office for nearing 20 minutes

“You just let another one skip, didn’t you?” she could hear Harry’s smile down the phone. 

“…Yeah,” Y/N sighed at herself. 

“Y/N/N, the oldies are going to start a club to take the piss out of your kindness, they must think you’ve got ‘mug’ written across y’forehead,” Harry laughed, as he pottered around in the kitchen, cleaning up their mess from breakfast. 

“I can’t believe how busy it is in here,” Y/N finally moved forward a place in the queue, inching closer to the parcel sending service. 

“It’s less than two weeks until Christmas, m’heart, of course it’s busy,” Harry had tried to gently urge her to post what she needed to send earlier but she never took notice of his coaxing. 

“I know that. M’just looking for a little bit of sympathy,” Y/N had even given up on holding onto the bag that held the gifts she was sending to various family members who she wouldn’t see over the festive season, now just kicking it along the floor every time she crawled forward an inch in the monotonous queue, not even the tat they tried selling around the perimeter of the queue was keeping her entertained. 

“Sorry baby, I’m fresh out of sympathy when I tried to get you to send everything last week,” Harry snickered. 

“You’re an arsehole,” she pouted, no malice detected in her words, but the older lady she let cut her in line definitely looked over her shoulder, disapproving of Y/N’s language. “Y’know I procrastinate,” Y/N whined.

“I’m your arsehole though,” Harry tried to flirt. 

“That’s not as romantic as y’think it sounds, my love,” Y/N giggled, this time managed to push the bag forward with her shoe at least 2 feet as the queue shuffled forward. 

“D’you want me to come pick you up?” Harry asked, already reaching for a set of car keys, even if she said no, he’d still go get her, “it looks like it’s going to snow,” he peered out the kitchen window, seeing the sky swirl with heavy-looking white clouds. 

“Please,” she begged, “I think my legs would give out before I walked home after standing here for so long,” the ticking of the big, oversized clock in the post office was starting to grate on her. “Will Vinnie be alright with you leaving him?” she asked after the dog. 

“Me an’ him have just come back from a big walk round the park,” Harry went into the living room to check on the sleepy golden retriever, “the boy’s sparko, he’ll not even hear me leave,” Harry shoved his feet back in shoes he’d kicked off when he came home.

“Do you think if I drop an H-bomb, they’ll let me skip the queue?” Y/N asked, seriously. 

“Sorry? Drop an ‘H-bomb,’ what the fuck is an H-bomb?” Harry questioned, pausing by the front door. 

“If I say y’name, do you think they’ll let me skip?” she asked again, giggling.

“What?” Harry cackled, “have you done that before?” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the call.

“Y/N!” 

“It was one time, and I desperately needed the loo, I wasn’t a diva about it or anythin’ honest!” she giggled trying to explain the story, as she heard Harry laughing and muttering ‘unbelievable’ under his breath. “I just slipped it into conversation,” she finalised. 

“Well for some reason, I don’t think the pensioners in the post office care much about an H-bomb, gorgeous,” Harry laughed.

“I don’t know, I reckon you’re a hit in the care homes.” 

“Oh, hush, how far from the front are you? If I leave now, am I going to be waiting ages?” Harry questioned, trying to figure out in his head where he could park without getting a ticket for idling. 

“Not far, should be done by the time you get here, I hope,” Y/N wasn’t miles off the front now and had picked up her bag of presents to hand to the post person when she got to the window. 

“As long as y’don’t let old Wilma from 4 doors down skip you when she shuffles in,” Harry locked their front door and paused listening for any disgruntled barks from Vinnie before hearing nothing and making his way to the car. 

“Exactly,” Y/N said, with a smile evident in her tone. 

“Do hurry, there’s another package waiting for you here,” Harry said with a suggestive lilt in his voice.

“Oooh, what is it?” Y/N queried, missing the undertone to his comment.

“I’d tell you, but you’ll need to find it, it’s in m’pants,” Harry said, straight to the point, sliding his key into the ignition, foot on the clutch to start the engine.

“Harry Styles! That is vile,” she laughed loudly before slapping a hand over her mouth, realising what she had said. 

“That’ll be the H-bomb dropped then,” Harry snorted, putting his phone on speaker so he could put it down to start his drive. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, it slipped out,” Y/N said nervously as she saw some eyes turn to look at her. “Oh my god, Harry, they’ve opened another window and they’re waving me forward to go first, shit, that’s so fucking embarrassing,” she whispered-yelled down the phone as she could hear Harry’s tittering laugh come down the phone. 

“Well, m’glad you got some benefit out of the H-bomb,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” 

“Fuck off, that’s so embarrassing. Right, oh my god I need to go before I make it worse, see you in a second, gorgeous,” Y/N sighed hanging up the phone before sorting out her face to talk to the person behind the glass. 

“Hi, I’d like to send these first class, please.” 

———

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[kainscape]

Slashers with an S/O who talks in their sleep

@chibizombiebehindyou: Could you do the slashers (including Asa and Jesse) with a reader who talks in their sleep?

A/N: Decided to do this in a short prompt type of writing piece so I can practice writing short stories without going way overboard

A/N: okay maybe it’s not as short as I thought but hey, it’s not over 2 pages- yeah no it’s pretty lengthy 💀 and it’s not proofread ‼️

Bo Sinclair

It was a consuming and bone-breaking job that the Sinclair brothers did. Therefore, sleep was never guaranteed. But, with you? You decided on your own that you would keep yourself awake to see Bo come home in one piece. He always brushed your worry off as your so called obsession with him. After a few times of butchering your sleep schedule, it wasn't long before you were fast asleep when Bo retuned home. He made his way up the stairs, shedding his boots at the top. Discarding his mechanic coveralls, he was left in a stained but washed grey t shirt and his boxers. He had heard some quiet mumbling but didn't really look into it. The noise had vanished as he pulled back some of the old cover, slowly resting his body beside you. You had looked dead asleep, your body contracting slow and steady breaths. Exempt your mouth moving and forming words. He smirked, realizing you were taking in your sleep. He had some assumptions about it when you would ask questions with no reasoning. He wasn’t too worried. He propped himself up on his elbow to look over at you. “What do you mean you didn’t see it?! It was as big as your ass dude!” That’s something he’s never heard before. He couldn’t help but genuinely laugh at your behavior, shaking his head until he heard his name. “Well, Bo, what else do you want me compare it to, your dick!? Yeah right.” His face deadpanned, furrowing his eyebrows. He scoffed, turning over dramatically as he rolled his eyes. He faced away from you, biting the inside of his cheek. In the morning, he might tease you or ask questions around what you said. Either way, he’s not bothered by it.

Vincent Sinclair

It had been a long day for the boys and you within Ambrose. What a better way to go to sleep cuddled up together and arise later in the day by Bo? Of course, you were always first within the bed, already dead asleep and dreaming of whatever your mind wander to. Vincent kept awareness of where the creeks were in the floorboards, avoiding them so he could peacefully lay in bed next to your sleeping form. Yet he heard some prominent mumbling coming from you, serving closer and gently easing up the blankets to slip in. He had removed his mask already, carefully turning to face you. You had your arm over your eyes, mouth open and moving from incoherent sentences. But one was clear as day, “I’m convinced Vincent uses Gucci conditioner and shampoo, my god.” You mumbled a few after that but he was utterly confused. Why were you talking about that weird brand you had showed him once, and why did it correlate to your dream?? He shook his head gently, scooting closer and resting his arm across your waist/stomach, pulling himself against your form until he fell asleep to your rhythmic breathing. Sometimes, he’s entertained by your night time conversations.

Lester Sinclair

Your boyfriend had a fairly easy job compared to his brothers, but when there were visitors piling up after one another, it took a whole lot longer to come back home to you and your shared bed. The frogs and cicadas were a whole lot louder than usuals, but it was like a lullaby to you by now. Which queues the small mumbling escaping your mouth. He was quiet when he came, but of course, Lester wasn’t the best at silence. Luckily you were to lost in your dream to realize he was already snuggling in beside you. He had took notice of your nonsense sentences from time to time, not that it bothered him. If anything, it was an entertaining thing to listen to before going to sleep. It gave him a sense of what your brain really thinks of. “Lester… if I dressed up as roadkill… would you pick me up too?” He tried so damn hard to stifle his laugh, his body almost shaking as you formed a stupid grin on your face. Lester took in a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek as he buried his head into the side of your neck. “Sure, hun’” he was sure to keep his words to a hush, taking note to your shared silence. There was a comfortable coldness that covered your bodies compared to the blistering heat outside. What a way to end the day.

Will Graham

Go to work, panic, panic some more and get no sleep. This was Wills routine even with you trying to hassle him into bed. He was always focused on something, or just simply to stubborn to let himself rest for once. But tonight, he had one hell of an excuse. Jack had kept him for a lot longer than both of you would like. But you knew what you signed up for when you accepted to go on a date with Will. You figured out after multiple nights of fruitless attempts at staying up and waiting for your boyfriend, you just gave in and went to sleep on your own terms. This gave Will the opportunity to overthink in peace without the guilt of making you worry. The job had took a huge toll on his physical capacity, leading him to shrugging off his clothing while he made his way to the side of the bed. He rubbed his eye, yawning as he lifted the blanket to the new queen bed you guys had bought, giving more room for dogs and the two of you. He stopped his motions, watching closely as you turned your body towards him. You were mouthing words but they were quiet and blotched. Will slowly slid underneath the covers, feeling his body sink in the end to a relaxed position. He had took not of your sleep talking, not bothered by it. To be honest, he likes to hear what you would say when you weren’t conscious of it. “I wish we had one of those stress powered lightbulbs…” A very quiet and short chuckle made its way out of you, “of course it’s for you, you could probably power Russia with how much stress you have.” And with that, he scoffed and turned the other way, mumbling to himself before attempting to sleep.

Jason Voorhees

Jason always makes sure you’re getting enough rest for your health. He’s adamant about you being your best self with a healthy body and mind. But, he’s never really surprised to see you up waiting for him time to time, honestly he can’t complain. He loves seeing you there in the cabin with the fire still going as you greet him with that beautiful smile. It’s truly warming for him. The rest of the nights, you’re always in the dark comfort of your shared room, resting atop the creaking bed and under the quilt blankets. The cabin door whipped open, quickly caught by the giant hand wrestling against the harsh winter wind. He tried his best to quietly close the door, pushing the lock in place he had added after a break in from a trespasser happened. He observed the room, laying his machete within the kitchen sink after shedding his jacket and laying it on the chair around the wood table. Expertly avoiding the creaks in the floor, he gently pushed open the bedroom door, slipping in without a sound. There was a severely dim light coming from the window, which shadowed over your face just right so he could see you. Jason had took off his boots while he listening to the common small talk from your sleeping form. You guys had decided to look in all the cabins, landing on the jackpot of a bigger bed so you could have more room. Therefore, it wasn’t a huge hassle for Jason to slip into the bed without the alarm of waking you. You were turned away from him, slow breaths from to body. The hockey mask laid on the dusty end table, facing up as Jason looked down at you. A small smile formed on his lips, listening as your talking grew a little more coherent. “Come on Jason, you got all that cake.. and you’re not gonna give me none?” His smile slowly faded, realizing what you meant by ‘cake.’ It ha mentioned before, especially when you went out of your way to slap his ass and look him in eyes to say, “a whole damn bakery back there..” Jason took it on himself to get used to it, not bothered by the comments. He shook his head, inching down so he could pull you closer to his chest, a very strong arm wrapped around you.

Michael Myers

There’s never a sleep schedule with the two of you. There’s times where Michael is out for days at time, retuning only when your asleep and unknowing. There are those very rare times like this one where you’re aware of Michaels presence in the bed while you drift of into sleep. He’s definitely not the type to pull you close or make a move to hold you, but he’s not going to push you away if you wrap yourself around him. Which is where you lay on his chest, listening to his eternally calmed heart beat as you knocked out. It had took a damn long time, but you achieved the privilege of seeing Michael without the infamous mask you grew accustomed too. His eyes usually zeroed in on the ceiling, waiting until he need to close his eyes came. But this time, he looked down at you shifting a bit in his chest, a few words spoken. “I really don’t know how people can’t smell you form your hiding places.. I can literally smell you before you walk in a room.. it’s not a good thing either.” His eyebrows furrowed together, trying to understand why you were composing about how he.. smelled. Yet here you are, your face completely shoved into his chest. He gave you an unimpressed eye roll, turning his head on the pillow for an attempt at some sleep. He found it rather amusing that you would speak whatever you thought without restrictions when you would sleep talk. Something to quietly tease you about.

Jesse Cromeans

He had already experienced your sleep taking, the cameras in his house capturing anything you did. Sometimes you asked questions or said random comments, all that made Jesse smirk or silently laugh. He had also taken notice to the earlier times you went to bed, your stubborn idea to stay up and wait for him dying down. He didn’t mind this, satisfied with your healthy sleep schedule returning. He set the tapes in a box for tomorrow’s checking. Jesse eased open the bedroom door, a small ray of light traveling across the room to reveal the bed you laid in. The black silk sheets covering your sound figure. He pushed the door back closed, taking off all his work attire to be left in his boxers and undershirt. He shimmied underneath the covers, slowly scooting closer to your body. Of course, there were some unconscious words to be shared. “I just realized I’ve got to sleep in every room…” there was some silence before you spoke again, “why?… look don’t even worry about.” There was humorous tone in the last sentence, one that felt oddly genuine for someone asleep. He shook his head, smiling while he took in your scent that comforted him. His hands caressed any exposed skin as the room fell silent, including his mind as you both shared a deep sleep.

Asa Emory

It wasn’t something he really cared to take notice about, never really sleeping at the same time as you due to his large amounts of work he took on. It was to the point he would drift off into a dreamless sleep on his desk. Not that you could really do anything about it with his stubborn view point, so you kept to yourself and went to your bed without him. Well, went to bed also meant brining a pillow and blanket down to Asas work place and sleeping the the chair. You just wanted to feel your boyfriends presence before you fell asleep. He only looked up for a few before looking back down at the scatter of papers, shuffling though some before writing. You made yourself as comfortable as you could get, sighing as you let your body relax. The sleep came easier than expected, the few sniffles sounding in the room letting you know Asa was still there. It was oddly comforting. A flash of worry did strike you, the worry that your sleep talking would annoy him, causing you to have to leave. But it was worth the few bits of it. Asa sighed, running his hand down his face as he battled the tired feeling back. Lending back in his seat, he crossed his arms while looking up to you in the leather chair. Without a warning, a question was asked out loud from you, “What color box would I get if I was one of your butterflies?” He tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows before humoring himself by answering, “Red. To match the original one.” It seems like your dream had answered for you, the words quiet on your tongue as your chest arose slowly. Asa took in another breath before rising to his feet, walking over to you. He brought a hand up to your resting face, his thumb brushing your drink. What a beautiful butterfly you would be.

[ohbuckie]

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT II

college!bucky x fem!reader (first part isn’t a necessary read prior to this one) summary: bucky fucks you in the back of his car at a drive-in. warnings: smut, semi public sex, implication that reader has hair long enough to pull word count: 2k masterlist

(pls dm me for credit or removal of this gif)

Your hand is on Bucky’s thigh.

It’s customary for the boyfriend’s right hand to be on the girlfriend’s left thigh, but his only real hand is occupied by the steering wheel, and he can’t hold the wheel with only his prosthetic. So, you fill the role, fingers tapping against the inside of his muscular right leg.

He looks pretty when he drives—with his arm outstretched to display his sculpted muscles. His hair is fluffy and shiny and soft, and his lips confidently mouth the lyrics to the songs that play through the car. He was wearing sunglasses before the sun disappeared below the horizon, and they’re now atop his head, holding his hair away from his forehead, with the exception of a stubborn strand that dangles between his eyebrows.

You stare down at Bucky’s phone, held by your free hand, adding music to his Spotify queue. Just enough to bring you to where you’re going. “How much longer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes.”

It takes twelve.

He pulls the car between two posts in the very center of the dirt lot, parking it and unlocking the doors so that you can hop out. While he sits in the front and tunes the radio to the channel indicated on the slip of paper that the teenage girl at the front booth gave you, you spread out the plush blankets and soft pillows, making the trunk—and backseat, with all of the seats down—mostly habitable, at least for a few hours. Pillows are pushed against the backs of the front seats, a small blanket covering the area beneath you, leaving the comforter that he brought from his bed against the side to be put over your laps once you’re both ready to sit.

It’s already dark, and the cold air bites at your nose, nips at your fingertips. Bucky turns the headlights off and climbs over the center console, laying over the setup you’ve created. You lift yourself into the trunk, kicking off your shoes onto the ground beside the car, settling beside him. He looks at his phone for the time, and announces that the movie won’t start for another ten minutes.

He says it with a suggestive smirk and a hand on your waist, and you roll your eyes playfully just before he captures your lips with his. You lay on your back with your arms around his neck as he hovers over you, leaning on one elbow and using his other arm to hold you close to himself. Your fingers twirl around the thick hair at the back of his head, dark brown and intentionally unkempt.

“I’m not doing this during the movie, you know.” You breathe against him, and he pulls away.

“Why not?”

“We paid thirty dollars to get in here. We can shove our tongues down each others’ throats at home.”

“Then we should probably get it all out now.” He doesn’t wait for a response before kissing you again, hand slowly trailing down your back to grab your ass. The old-timey drive-in commercials play in the background of the hot, wet kisses that he delivers to your mouth, and your jaw, and your throat. He sucks a mark into the side of your neck, most definitely too high to cover with the collars on any of the shirts that you own.

The screen goes black suddenly and the opening sequence starts; a rumbling storm, birds chirping, Echo and the Bunnymen. He sighs, pecking your lips a last time and letting you shift to get more comfortable. For you, that means pushing your back against his chest and pulling the thick blanket over the two of you, putting your hand over his, which rests on your waist.

“All good?”

“Mm-hmm.” You put your arm under your head for a better angle of the big screen. He kisses the crown of your head sweetly.

It doesn’t take long for him to start fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. He pulls at the fabric, twists it, inches his fingers beneath it. You squirm in response to his cold touch, and feel him smile against your shoulder, soon finding your neck with his lips.

His fingers trail down your stomach and nestle underneath the waistband of your sweatpants—his sweatpants, actually—stopping to ask for permission.

You nod, but he makes a gentle demand. “Words, sweetheart.” “Do whatever you want.” You say softly, almost shyly.

His hand slides down your pants, teasing you over your panties. He presses his middle finger against your core, making you grind against him for more friction. With pressure on your clothed clit, he kisses down your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His lips are dry from the chilly air, but his kisses are delicate.

He removes his hand and taps your lower lip with two of his thick fingers. You take them in your mouth, tongue slithering around them, coating them with saliva to help him out. They nearly touch the back of your throat when your lips reach the knuckle, and you pull off slowly when they’ve been properly lubricated.

He pushes his hand down the front of your underwear, finally making contact with your skin. His fingers are warm now, from being between your legs as well as in your mouth, and you’re grateful not to be shivering anymore. He rolls your clit between his fingers, moving down to your entrance to spread around your wetness, which is already abundant.

You inhale sharply when a fingertip probes you, slipping in carefully and letting you accommodate. “Bucky.”

“Gotta be quiet.” He reminds you, mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I know.” You squeak.

“Shut up, then.”

The words go straight to your center, making you tighten around him and swallow hard. He gives a couple of slow pumps. “Another?”

“Mm-hmm.” You whine, and he takes his hand out for a moment, pulling it from your pants. He shoves it in again, down the back this time, and stretches you around two of his fingers. You bring your hand to your mouth, biting on your sleeve to keep quiet. “Fuck.”

He moves his hand with purpose—which is, of course, to make you cum—while the giant screen in front of you plays a movie you’ve both seen before. You can hear the words in your head before the actors even say them: Oh, please, tell me, Elizabeth, how exactly does one suck a fuck? You want me to tell you? Please, tell me.

It takes your mind off of the fingers breaching your entrance; helps you last at least a little bit longer. He pushes and pulls, twists and curls, while you writhe beside him, trying desperately not to make any noise.

It makes an obscene noise—a wet slurp that serves as evidence of how quickly he can drive you crazy. “You’re so fucking wet.” He mutters against your cheek.

You swallow a moan, whining somewhat loudly. “Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“Please fuck me.”

“You don’t wanna cum first?”

You shake your head. “I need you.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, making sure you’re looking behind your shoulder at him when he sucks your taste off of them, releasing them from his mouth with a pop. He gets up on his knees, reaching to close the trunk for at least a little bit of privacy.

He tells you to get on your stomach in front of him, and he shoves a pillow beneath your pelvis to prop your hips up. With two hands, he yanks your pants and underwear down and over your ass, exposing you to him. You point your ass upwards, giving him a view of your wetness.

You hear rustling, and assume it’s him shoving his pants down his thighs. A crinkle and a rip alert you to the opening of a condom.

“You seriously had a condom in your pocket this whole time?”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re such a tool.”

“Yup.”

He spreads your ass and spits on your pussy, putting his painfully hard cock against your entrance. He pushes into you, bottoming out quickly and holding onto the driver’s seat for leverage.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

“Shit, Buck.”

He pulls his hips back, far enough so the head of his cock threatens to slip out, before slamming forward again. You slap a hand over your own mouth, feeling him find his rhythm.

It’s safe to assume that everyone around you knows what you’re doing. With the trunk closed and the inside lights off, they can’t see anything, but the SUV wobbles on its suspension in the loose dirt and alerts everyone of your activities. You try to keep quiet, because nobody needs further confirmation that you’re being had in the trunk.

This position makes it easier for him to hit all the right spots—more specifically, the one deep inside of you that makes your legs shake and your toes curl. The stretch you feel with every thrust stings only a little bit, but doesn’t hurt. You always need a minute to get used to him, anyway.

You moan quietly, lips sealed, and arch your back so that you’re pushing back into him.

“You’re so tight like this.” He says, and rests his metal hand on your lower back.

“Bucky-y.” You whine, unable to conceptualize any other words.

“Lift up your hips up for me.” He requests. “On your knees.”

You do as he asks, bracing your hands on the floor in front of you when you rise to your knees. He puts a foot up to balance himself after he removes his hand from the seat and grabs hold of you, using your hips like handles to hold onto while he slams into you barbarically.

He pulls you backwards with every thrust, but your clothes—still covering as much as possible, since it’s cold and this was meant to be a quickie—muffle the sound of you hitting against each other. It’s only a soft clapping; much more innocent than the usual slapping of damp skin that’s shared between you.

You hear his necklace jingle with every movement—a ball chain with a pendant on it that reads your first name, hammered crookedly into a circle of aluminum, letter by letter, with a small mallet and metal stamps. It hits his clothed chest and rings like a bell as a sort of reminder to you that it’s him who’s making you feel this good.

You feel him tangle his flesh fingers in the hair close to your scalp, balling up his fist and tugging. You moan, and he allows himself to do the same, all the while holding your head back at an uncomfortable angle.

“I’m close.” He mumbles, releasing your hair suddenly and quickly finding your clit. He briefly pulls away and spits on his fingers, pressing against you again, this time letting his saliva cover you. He rolls the sensitive part between his fingers, and soon starts tracing circles. They’re small, and fairly gentle, at first, but he quickly heats things up. He adds more pressure, and increases the size of the circles that he draws like his life depends on it.

Your breathy moans that you try hopelessly to conceal grow louder with every passing second, and you’re soon being dropped over the edge. Your head drops between your shoulder while you cum, and you clench around him unwillingly, triggering his own release. His hips falter and he spills into the condom, staying inside of you until he’s milked dry.

When he’s ready, he pulls out, ties up the condom, tosses it in the bag of trash that he keeps dangling from the shifter in the front seat. He pulls your pants back over your ass, and does the same to his own, waiting for you to maneuver yourself around to face him so he can kiss you.

It’s much gentler than the sex was, and his pink mouth seems to melt against yours while he holds your face, breath fanning over your cheek. You pull away, glancing at the foggy windows, dripping with evidence of your actions.

“Let’s get outta here.”

“Is that you asking for round two?”

“Uh-huh.” He smiles. “Just not in the car. My knees hurt.”

“Tell me about it.”

[gffa]

hey there! coming from a teenager who loves your blog, there’s something i’ve been wondering for a while: how do you have so much time? this isn’t judgemental or anything, i honestly just want to know what i’m doing. if you aren’t finding art or comics or reading books and posting a screenshot, you’re writing whole essays or replying to asks or adding onto posts with a whole number of your usual well thought out paragraphs. it’s perhaps a little enviously that i, awestruck, ask how you do it?

“what i’m doing.” doing WRONG doing wrong that’s what i meant to say. i’m sorry, the previous ask probably comes off baffling otherwise😂💛

Hi!  Honestly, a lot of it just comes down to practice and multitasking.  That and I might seem like I’m doing more than I am--almost all of my blog is run on a queue, so I may seem active throughout the day like today for instance, but I’ve really only been around for an hour or so, the rest is just posts I shoved in my queue.  It’s not that I can’t spend several hours on tumblr stuff (I do sometimes!), it’s just not as much as it might appear! I read books during my commute or listen to audiobooks while I do on-line stuff or while I’m cleaning, I’m reasonably fast at writing the kind of meta or shitposts that I want to write, I don’t do fancy gifs so I can put together a set in like 10-15 minutes if I’m just making them for a meta’s sake, etc.  I’ve got my stuff organized so I can just dive right in, like I have a folder on my computer just for book screenshots and a folder just for comic screenshots and I’ve streamlined my process of dumping the files in there for when I’m ready, then whipping through them quickly when I’m in the mood to liveblog something.  And I have my sources lined up, like I have Hoopla or my library ready to go whenever I hop over there, so I don’t have to spend a lot of time hunting content down. And a lot of that just comes with time, I’ve been at this for a few years and it used to take me so much longer to put together a post!  Now, I’ve put enough Star Wars thoughts into words that I usually know what I want to say and what words I want to say it in within, like, half an hour to an hour.  Responses or tag spirals are just a handful of minutes because I’m hip-deep in the kind of jokes or commentary I want to make.  I don’t have to delete and rewrite parts of posts as often because I have strong views of what I think and practice at putting them into words.  I don’t have to search for the quotes I want to cite as much because I’ve used them often enough that I can remember which ones I want better or I look them up in the document I put together. In contrast, it takes me two-three times as long to write a Tolkien meta piece that’s not even half as in depth because I have to look a ton of stuff up or I have to reread everything so much more carefully, and it’s a slow process! It just comes down to time and practice, for me and I’m pretty sure that it’ll come for you as well.  Even in non-SW fandoms (like Tolkien!), I’m faster than I used to be, because I’ve practiced at phrasing things the way I want them, like a writer gets better at writing the more they do it, or an artist gets better at drawing the more they do it.  It’ll always take effort and be frustrating at times, but you will get better at it and it won’t take as much time as it does now. It might seem like everything is a ton of work for you right now (if you’re like me, that is! XD) or that it just takes so long, but eventually you will find ways to make your process more efficient (like it’s nothing for me to clip out a book quote from my folder because I’ve done it a thousand times, I practically do it with my eyes closed now) and you will gain practice at how you want your post structure to sound and you won’t have to think about it so much and you’ll find yourself writing an entire essay in half the time and so you’ll do another one, as long as you have time, and you’ll like like you have all the time in the world, but really you’re just spending as much or as little time on-line as you always have!  Fandom, for all that it is a hobby, is one that’s also a skill, just like knitting or crocheting or reading or writing.  The more you do it, the more you’ll find your groove with it!

[sneezefiction]

soft nekoma sleepover

Nekoma x Reader - Sleepover Headcanons

a/n: the Nekoma portion of my soft sleepover series :,,) my friends and i have had rough weeks so far and i thought this would be a sweeter way to cope <33

warnings: none!

wc: 1280

---

you’ve always been such a strong person

whether you’d had a rough week full of assignments and exams or there was tension with your family/friends, you would always manage to hold your head up high and push through it all with a convincing smile on your face

but this past week finally pushed you over your limits

as you walked into Nekoma’s volleyball practice that Friday afternoon, manager’s clipboard in hand, you tried to keep up your usual peppy expression on

...but the smile refuses to reach your eyes

Yaku greets you warmly, expecting a big grin and a soft hug from you, but all you could do was ruffle his hair and walk quickly to your seat, holding in tears of frustration

this threw him for a loop and Yaku definitely asks you what’s wrong and if Lev did anything to upset you because, and i quote, 

“I will fight him right here, right now. Just say the word.”

you just shake your head and stand up to give him a quick, wordless hug, which only leaves him more confused?? because he wants to fix this and you’re being really quiet??

Kenma then notices your gloomy presence and mentions it to Kuroo who’s eyes snapped your way quizzically

you were clearly upset and, if they weren’t completely mistaken, you looked like you’d been… crying?

Kuroo wasn’t having it at all bc you, of all people, deserve to be happy & smiling

he calls the boys in for a huddle but Kuroo asks you to wait on the bench with that trademark sneaky smile on his face

as they all converse, you see heads pop up and turn around to glance at you, Lev and Yamamoto’s concerned expressions making it obvious that you were the topic of conversation

it became clear that, even without words, your misery hadn’t escaped them… you couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or a curse

“Alright!” Kuroo’s volume gains your attention

everyone turns to you and you feel as though you’re shrinking under their gazes

“We have a proposition for you, Y/n…” Kenma explains quietly

“More like a demand, but whatever you say Kenma.” Kuroo cuts in, with a slight drawl

“How about you come over to my place tonight? We’ve not had a team sleepover since our last training camp and none of us are busy tonight.” the quiet setter finishes

Kenma sounds reluctant, his eyes shifting from the floor to the wall, avoiding your gaze as much as possible

yet one glance over to you reminds him why he’s offering up his precious Friday night

a real smile graces your previously downcast face, which makes all the boys go silent in awe of what a simple sleepover suggestion could do

now cut to Kenma’s house where he has two consoles of Mario Kart already set up bc it’s the only game that everyone on the team knows how to play

you get there last, much to your own dismay, because you had hoped to feel more settled before interacting with all of the boys again

just before you walked in, Inuoka made sure that everyone was smiling, welcoming, and that there’d be no fights (@ Yaku)

and the team agreed that tonight was all about you: their precious manager who really needed some encouragement and fun in their life

the moment you set foot inside, you’re met with cheery faces, bowls of popcorn, “cards against humanity” on the table, and a spot on the sofa (that you have to assume is meant just for you)

everybody looks SO DAMN COMFY:

Kai, Kuroo, Lev and Fukunaga are in name brand sweatpants and soft t-shirts, Shibayama, Inuoka, and Yaku are in clean workout shorts, Kenma is in a trendy sweatshirt and the rest of him is covered by a weighted blanket, and Yamamoto & Teshiro are in their volleyball uniforms from earlier (ew)

you get a quick nod and a brief smile from Kenma (basically Kenma was never meant to be a Professional Host™), but the rest of the boys are ✨Beaming✨ as you look them over

and your heart swells because this is exactly what you needed. to be in the presence of these sweet, granted kinda sweaty, guys where there were no goals or deadlines to be met

Kuroo’s grin quickly catches your eye and he pats the open couch seat next to him

and conversations take off smoothly and sweetly, the airspace full of friendly taunts, crude jokes, and screams from Lev’s being hit by 3 blue shells in a single game of Mario Kart

after several hours of you beating their asses with Princess Peach on Rainbow Road, everyone ends up splayed out across each other for the sake of comfort

your head found its way to Kuroo’s lap (the two of you being both third years, classmates, and close friends) and his hands move to give you a much needed scalp massage

you feel the weight of the world melt off your shoulders. it’s like one night was all you needed to clear your head and at least help you back onto your feet

with your legs dangling off the arm of the couch, Kuroo’s hand now just gently stroking your arm, you decide to thank them for tonight as best you could, because you’ve not felt this happy in what seems like months

“I just want to let you kids know that you’re all the best.” you cut through everyone’s conversations, voice resting on their ears for a moment

“And, uh, not to be disgustingly cheesy… but I really love you guys.”

you cover your eyes, acting as though you were embarrassed, but in reality you feel tears threatening to spill out

Kuroo’s expression falls for a moment, because he’s not stupid and can tell you’re still processing everything

so he simply lifts your hands off of your eyes and you, with a perfect tear skimming the side of your face, can’t help but let out a soft, relieved laugh

it’s silent for a second, but Kuroo just smiles & opens his mouth to say something

but he’s interrupted by some rude-ass kids (Yamamoto & Inuoka) shouting out their love for you and rushing over to smother you in tearful hugs

you’re saved by Yaku, who’s grabbed them both by the backs of their shirts, stopping them in their emotional, hug-giving tracks

but your giggles continue, now laughing at all their surprised expressions and Kuroo’s peeved one from getting cut-off

so you hop up off the couch, place your hands on your hips and allow their eyes to rest on you before swinging your arms open wide with the sweetest, most genuine smile you can muster

“Well, are y’all gonna come hug me, or should I just go now?”

queue a small stampede of boys tackling you (gently) to the floor, laughter bubbling from every mouth, and warmth that spreads from the outside, in

in between the chuckles, shoves, and “get off of me’s” you hear a phrase tumble out of Kenma’s mouth

“We love you too, y/n.”

it was supposed to be unheard, lost in the tumbling around you, but those three words then took traction in individual ways with different boys

“We love you!” 

“I love ya.” 

“You’re kinda okay, I guess...”

“Marry me, y/n!”

“Shut up, Yamamoto!”

you would always have a place with them, no matter how bad things got and no matter what anyone said about you

because whenever you needed them, they’d be sure to show up, just as you’d do for them

---

soft team sleepover series

soft shiratorizawa sleepover

soft karasuno sleepover

soft seijoh sleepover

soft fukurodani sleepover

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel, @kit-tea, @theworldupthere, @sugasugawarau, @star-puff, @akaashisupremacy

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list - blogs in bold could not be tagged) 

[libermachinae]

In Touch

Exes Week Day 7 - Free Space / lonely

Later that evening, the building’s management would get noise complaints from their residential tenants. Optimus’ voice was the kind of bass that carried easily through walls and under carpets, but Prowl hadn’t bee n selfish in his contribution either. Most reports mentioned him, and a very small number noted a third voice, trying to silence the other two like a creek pushing against the tide of the ocean.

“Don’t try to tell me that went well,” Chromedome warned as they stepped outside. It was the first time he had spoken since Prowl had thrown one of Optimus’ datapads through the window.

“I wasn’t going to,” Prowl said. “I was only planning to mention that we got results. I can’t always say that for these discussions.” More often, it would go much like today had, except it would end with Prowl leaving his work in the office for the Prime’s eventual consideration, or Prowl would get kicked out entirely and be forced to return the next day to start the process over again. “Well done.”

Chromedome didn’t respond. Side by side, they didn’t have to look at each other. Prowl could have pretended he was alone at the top of the steps, looking down on the city, and he wouldn’t have had to try that hard.

“I’m going home now,” Chromedome said. “I’m… glad you’ve found a place for yourself, Prowl.”

“Did Rewind really send you?” Prowl asked just before Chromedome could walk away.

Chromedome froze with his back to Prowl.

“Don’t,” he warned, unconvincingly.

“I’m not making any accusations,” Prowl said, adding a shrug with his doorwing. “No need to get defensive. I’m just wondering what other motiv—”

The shove didn’t send Prowl tumbling down the stairs, but it could have. Chromedome was above him now, fans roaring like he’d just dropped out of a 100 mph sprint. Prowl still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was so frustrating.

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” Chromedome asked. His arms were shaking, and not from the force he had put into his push; Prowl knew he was much stronger than that. “You think exactly the same way you always did. The only difference, the only reason you’re not already in charge of everything is because the people around you finally figured out who you are.”

“And who is that?” Prowl demanded. He advanced forward, driving Chromedome back. “Someone who understands the problems, who is willing to do what it takes to solve them? Cybertron is ready to shake itself apart, and all the leaders want to sit back and play politics together!”

“So you’re going to fix it?” Chromedome asked. “You? Alone? When has that ever worked for you?”

“I’m not—”

Prowl had never felt a silence before, but it settled over them like the fog from earlier, heavy and caustic. His head was full of things he could say (He would have his own department soon! He had contacts in the council!) but none could make it out. The orange light of the sunset glinted against Chromedome’s visor, giving him a sharp glare.

“I’m going home,” Chromedome said, “to my conjunx. You’re clearly so out of touch with everything that nothing I have to say is going to make an impact. I don’t know what you’re going to do next, but that can’t be my problem. Don’t make it my problem.” He did turn away then, fully, walking away from Prowl with a rushed step.

“You’re deluding yourself if you think things are that different now!” Prowl shouted at Chromedome’s back. “People don’t change!”

“I can see that,” Chromedome said, low enough Prowl wasn’t sure whether he’d been meant to hear.

He didn’t stay to watch Chromedome leave. With one case closed, a new one could be opened, and the queue only grew longer each day. He retreated up the stairs and into the apartment building, back through crowded hallways and snug stairways. There were fewer people around this time of day, and those he did see did not stop to say hello.

This was the way he liked it. He had built himself a life in which people left him alone to do his work, and it was exactly like he’d imagined. So busy, not nearly productive enough. Not worth the price of a war, but then, he hadn’t been the one to start that bit.

Situated in his office at last, surrounded by scraps of investigations he had yet to pursue, he settled in. The city and its makeup might have been new, but Prowl and Cybertron were not. He knew how these things worked, how easily corruption could lay deep roots, and he would continue doing what he always had to root it out.

He was the only one who could.

[cafeacademia]

Guardian | Chapter One

Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader Soulmate AU

Chapter Summary: As you navigate your fifth year at Hogwarts, you reflect on the things that have led you this far and you begin to wonder if your complicated friendship with Draco holds more meaning than you originally anticipated.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, some friendly teasing, mentions of Umbridge’s punishments, description of harm to a student, comfort, fluff.

Word count: Approx 4000 (oopsies)

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, here’s the first full part of the series! Please check out the Prologue if you’re new to the series, it gives some general setting up for the story and explains how this soulmate AU works. Enjoy! 💖

Flashbacks are separated using *** and use of the soulmate book is highlighted in italics

Previous Part | Next part

(Gif is my own)

Sitting in the library, Neville was not far from the desk you were sat at as he scoured the shelves for a copy of a book about rare magical properties in plants while you were trying to work on your final Potions essay for the term. “This feels impossible.” You yawned, slouching over your four parchment rolls of completed essay. All you really had to do now was make a conclusion, but your brain was wandering after a few hours of working on your homework and it just wasn’t happening. “That’s incredible.” Neville whispered to himself and you couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh, looking over your shoulder to see that he was fully engrossed in the book he had pulled off the shelf.

Putting your quill down, you looked down at your hand, eyes trailing over the little bandage wrap you wore over the mark left from the detention you had served the previous evening with Umbridge. It was still sore and it felt very tender, but you tried your best to keep it hidden under the bandage and the sleeve of your school jumper. Slowly, your mind wandered towards what Draco might be up to. You hadn’t spoken to him in months since you had started in your fifth year and you’d had less of desire to do so now that he was in the Inquisitorial Squad. And your thoughts paced back to your fourth year when you had started to share a bit of a friendship with him.

***

“You’re fraternizing with the enemy, you are.” Ron scoffed. “I am not.” You frowned at him. “Oi, shove off would you? I know you don’t like the little git, but he seems to like our girl, isn’t that right George?” Fred asked, looking over your head to his twin who was standing on the other side of you. “That’s right Fred, maybe he’s got a crush on you.” He chuckled, nudging you in the side. “Ah, young love.” Fred sighed, garnering a multitude of reactions between Ron sounding utterly disgusted to Ginny’s amused laughter. “Draco is just being friendly.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh Draco is it now? Not Malfoy anymore eh?” Fred teased.

“He’s such a git, Malfoy’s not worth your time anyway, he’s probably just using you or something.” Ron argued and for once, Hermione gave Ron an agreeing nod. “Besides, since when is Malfoy nice to anyone?” Hermione asked, Fred and George giving each other a look, they were a little more accepting than the others, but with the question raised even the twins wondered if there wasn’t another motivation there.

Sighing, you leaned back against the wall of the quad and glanced over at Neville, who had just been quietly listening to the conversation without saying a word, but the look on his face told you that he felt the same as the rest of your friends. The problem was, while you really, truly valued their opinion and you understood that they were trying to look out for you, albeit with a little tough love on Ron’s end, you knew there was something there between you and Draco but you just couldn’t seem to find the words to describe it.

Was it friendship? Was it some kind of connection deeper than that? Whatever it was, Draco seemed to become a different person around you. He was more genuine, more open, more himself and oddly, you were starting to feel like he really valued your attention and your opinion.

“You shouldn’t be giving him the satisfaction.” Ron went on, Harry now wandering over to join the group and you heaved out a sigh because you knew as soon as he joined in, the two of them would be going on about how much of ‘bloody git’ Draco was. “Give who the satisfaction?” Harry asked. “Malfoy.” Ron replied in a disgruntled tone. “Fine,” You gritted out. “Then I won’t give either of you the satisfaction, Ronald.” You suddenly burst out, everyone looking at you as if you had grown a second head from your sudden outburst. “What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” He asked, a little bewildered.

But as the days passed, your friends started to realise what you had meant by that statement. Your little chats with Draco seemed to have halted entirely, and you didn’t speak a word about your budding friendship with the Slytherin. It was as if you had completely forgotten it had ever happened and your friends were starting to wonder if you were sneaking off to talk to him without any prying eyes, but of course there was no way they could prove it.

You valued their concern, you appreciated it in fact, but stupid or not you couldn’t deny that you felt a pull towards Draco. So you removed all indication that there was any interaction with Draco at all and it became quickly apparent to you, that maybe it was safer to just have a friendship with Draco in secret, especially as you weren’t too fond of the attention that being around the Slytherin Prince brought you.

You couldn’t deny, the secret meetings with Draco felt a little wrong, purely because you knew you’d get an absolute earful from Ron if he ever found out. But you still loved spending time with Draco, because out of everyone you had ever spent time with, Draco seemed to really value your company, be it quiet or more talkative. He seemed to understand when there were days that you just didn’t want to say a lot or you were more shy than usual and he understood that it was okay to enjoy silent company, but he also enjoyed it when you had energetic days and you wanted to chat about whatever came to mind.

***

“Are you listening?” Neville asked, leaning over your chair. “Hm?” You suddenly looked up at him, a little bit startled from being pulled away from your thoughts. “If we don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Neville warned and you pulled a face of worry before you hurried to pack away your things.

“Thank Merlin.” Neville mumbled as you both practically ran up the stairs to your classroom, seeing that there was a line of students waiting outside of the room, telling you that either you were just on time or Umbridge was late, though you thought the latter to be unlikely when she liked to go on about punctuality so often.

As you joined the line, Draco Malfoy made his way up the stairs, stopping when he reached you and pushed his way into the queue, though he was careful not to push you. And while Neville was busy catching up with Susan Bones who was standing on the other side of him, Draco leaned in and whispered to you.

“Meet me after class?” He asked. “Promise no funny business, just you and me.” He murmured and you tentatively glanced up at him. “This isn’t about you know what, is it?” You asked quietly. Draco knew what you were referring to. He knew you would be worried that he might try and pry some information out of you about the DA. Checking from side to side with a quick look, he held up his hand in front of you and pointed his ring finger at you. “I promise, it’s just like our old chats.” He whispered, glancing down to see you smiling, realising he was attempting a pinky promise. “Alright, but you’re using the wrong finger.” You had to refrain from giggling and instead, you shyly hid your smile as best as you could. Hesitantly you raised your hand, almost too shy to even touch him, but you pulled his little finger free and linked it with your own. “Sorry, I always forget which finger it is, muggle promises are strange.” Draco mumbled.

It wasn’t long before Umbridge finally poked her head out of the classroom and invited everyone in.

Draco sighed as he slouched down in his chair with his arms crossed in the drier than normal Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Umbridge was particularly boring to listen to as she droned on about a test you’d all be taking soon.

Instead, his focus was trained on the notebook that peeked out of the top of his bag that sat under his desk. He wished he could pick the book up and leaf through the pages, idly reading your handwriting, take in your thoughts and feelings and remind himself of days before now. Sometimes Draco wished that he could outright approach you and tell you that it was him, that he was your soulmate, but really that would be quite a bad move.

Draco wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to actually tell you, perhaps there was something that would prevent him from doing so or some sort of consequence and he was especially wary of this since his fourth year at Hogwarts when Pansy Parkinson had involved herself.

***

“What is that tatty old thing anyway? And why do you always brandish it about like a... a trophy or something?” She had asked with a judgemental edge to her tone, stealing it right out of Draco’s lap. The boy had nearly thrown himself across the common room at her as she hurried off with it. “I bet it’s a diary.” She giggled to herself. “Yeah, or he keeps secrets in there.” Crabbe added as he joined her. “That’s what a diary is, you dolt.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Draco stormed towards the pair of them, his heart racing with fear as he watched Pansy teasingly open the cover of the book. However, much to Pansy’s surprise and even more so to Draco’s, there wasn’t a single word, not a single drop of ink, no markings, nothing. The book was completely empty. “You really carry around an empty book?” Pansy questioned, sceptical with her upper lip curled in disappointment. “What did you expect, my heartfelt feelings?” Draco scoffed, his tone cold and sarcastic as he snatched the book back from her, trying not to appear too hurt that his book had been handled roughly. “I’m to keep it safe. Father sent it to me.” Draco lied through his teeth, but thankfully, his lies were hard to detect, even for someone who knew Draco’s tactics to uphold his image and Pansy just pulled an expression that told him that she thought it was weird.

***

But now, as he sat in class, Draco could still see the small dent in the leather cover that Pansy had caused when she’d roughly stolen it from his grasp. He was still angry about it even a year later, perhaps it was irrational to be so annoyed about damage to a book, but this was special and he remembered how very upset he had felt that someone other than him had held the book. It was precious, vulnerable and he treasured it.

But it wasn’t just the book that he treasured. No, what he considered to be more important, more precious and something truly wonderful in every aspect was you. Which was why he had started to slowly distance himself from you. But as Draco looked up to see you sitting a few rows ahead of him in the middle of the classroom, the thing that reminded him of why he wanted to see you peeked out from under your jumper sleeve. Your hand was bandaged and Draco was quite angry with himself, because the night before when you had unknowingly written to him in your book and told him that a teacher had hurt you during detention, Draco had immediately known what it meant and he was livid.

“Attention, mister Malfoy.” Umbridge practically shrieked across the classroom, slamming her hand down onto the front desk, disturbing the Friday afternoon gloom and making everyone in the room jump at her sudden raised voice before she gave him a forced smile. Draco lazily sat up in his seat, eyes flitting to you every time Umbridge turned away to write or point at something on the blackboard as his mind wandered throughout the rest of the lesson.

When the class finally came to an end and Professor Umbridge excused you all to enjoy the rest of your Friday evening, Draco left the classroom and leaned against the wall outside until the very last person left the room.

Draco gave you a subtle smile before he very quickly peeked around the doorframe to see that Umbridge was climbing the stairs to her office before he turned to look at you and give you a proper smile. “I’m so sorry it’s been months, it’s bloody difficult with her around, it’s like she’s everywhere.” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I understand, everyone is on high alert at the moment.” You replied in a quiet tone, almost too afraid to speak up as Draco began to walk you down the stairs, having avoided the eyes of all of your classmates and hopefully any spying caretakers too.

You were anxious to be spending time with Draco after all of this time. Especially as now he was part of the Inquisitorial Squad and part of you was afraid that your friends had been right last year. What if he did try to use you? But Draco had not yet betrayed your trust and you firmly believed in giving him the benefit of the doubt, you just hoped you weren’t doing it at your own expense.

“Come, we can talk in here.” Draco stepped into a hidden little alcove that was behind a statue at the side of the staircase. It was unlikely anyone would stop long enough to be able to hear you both talking and no one could see you hidden around the corner either.

“Was she hard on you yesterday?” Draco whispered his eyes softening as he watched you give him a little nod. “Yeah, a little.” You replied. “How did you know?” You queried, shyly looking up at him. “Pansy told me she caught you and Neville yesterday.” He explained and you just gave him a little nod. It wasn’t an outright lie, Pansy had told him she’d caught some students, but she never said who, it was only until you confided in your soulmate that it had happened that he knew you must have been in the group that Parkinson had caught. He watched as you slowly lifted your hand and pulled up your jumper sleeve to show him the bandage.

“Can I see?” Draco asked softly, gently taking your hand into both of his, holding you so softly like he was afraid he could hurt you with just his tender touch. You nodded, Draco leaning down to catch the way your eyes seemed to be filled with shame and you glanced at him, only for a second with a watery gaze.

Slowly and as carefully as he could, Draco unwrapped your bandage, reading the words that had been carved into your hand. “Oh love, I’m sorry, I should have been there to stop it from happening.” Draco sounded like he was scolding himself as he apologised, the emotions reaching his eyes as they swam deep in worry.

“It’s alright, I knew I’d end up in detention with her eventually.” You sighed, watching as Draco gently held your hand in his. He couldn’t lie and say it didn’t make his stomach turn horribly. It sickened him to no end and part of the reason he had joined the Inquisitorial Squad in the first place was with the hopes that he might be able to protect you better from that position. Not that he would let on to that, though.

“Does it hurt still?” He asked. “It still stings a bit and it’s sore.” You told him, your eyes saddened as you looked down at the writing you had tried so hard to conceal all day, not just because you were ashamed of what Umbridge had done, but because you simply could not bear to look at it. Would it always be there? You wondered if it would serve as a constant reminder and you hoped that with time that it would fade, but you couldn’t help the worry that sat deep in your stomach that the mark would remain long after healing and you hoped at the very least, that it would not make your stomach turn every time you looked at it.

“I’m so sorry.” Draco sighed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes looking up to meet yours as you let a shy, watery smile take over. You hoped not to cry, but Umbridge and her punishment was still very fresh in your mind and you felt a horrible chill roll through you whenever you thought of it. Merlin only knew how you had managed to make it through your lesson with her without it affecting you terribly.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, but I’m here now.” Draco whispered it so quietly as he pulled you against his side. He hated that he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again. Draco hated that he couldn’t stop Umbridge from hurting you and part of him hated himself for how weak he was for you. Did you find it strange that he was so apologetic? That he was almost loving towards you? But the worry seemed to slip from his mind when he felt you lean against him. It was moments like this that made Draco question himself. He questioned if he should continue to create distance between you, or if keeping you close was easier to keep you safe. And he questioned things like if he should find a way to help you realise that he was your soulmate like he had worked out two years ago. But he was afraid. Draco was starting to feel like that was beginning to be all too common for him to feel these days as things became more intense. The pressure from his father to do increasingly worse things that simply did not align with Draco’s morals was enough to twist his mind and now with working under Umbridge, he hoped it did not skew his true alignment and morality. It was this that he was fighting so hard to keep, because it was the one thing he could control when everyone else was insistent on pushing him into the directions they wanted him to go in.

What you didn’t know though, was that your friendship, his connection with you was more than just that to Draco. When he was around you, he didn’t feel like he had to cling on to who he was and put a mask on. He could just be himself and it relieved some of the tension and the fear.

But the question begged itself again. Am I too close to her?

“You know, Draco.” You broke the silence, the Slytherin humming in response, prompting you to continue. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for years.” You told him. And while it was somewhat true, you had known him since you both had started Hogwarts, you never really knew him until recently. Without even knowing what lay deeper in your connection to Draco, you could feel something there, you felt drawn to him.

That’s because you have, he thought. “I know what you mean. I’ve felt the same too.” Draco replied with a soft smile, only he really did know what you meant, more than you did and he wished he could tell you.

“We should go.” Draco spoke, almost in a regretful tone as he carefully and gently bandaged your hand back up. He hated that he had so little time with you, but he was thankful at least, that you were not against spending time with him. Stepping forwards, Draco checked the stairwell. “There’s no one around.” He reassured you. “See you soon.” Draco smiled sweetly at you. “I hope so.” You nodded, mirroring his smile before you stepped out of the alcove and made your way down the stairs quickly, Draco waiting several minutes before leaving, just in case.

The end of term was on it’s final stretch with one last exam to sit the following Monday for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But as the weekend came, you decided to spend at least some of it with the person you’d not been able to see nearly all year.

“Can I ask you something?” You broke the silence, Draco glancing over at you from his spot on the grass. You were both sat down by the lake, hidden by a bit of overgrown foliage and rocks. It was a part near the shore of the lake that not many people went to and it was perfect for spending a private moment with someone. “What is it?” He asked as he reached up to push his hair to the side.

“You’ll think it’s ridiculous.” You sighed, fiddling with the book that sat closed in your lap. “Nothing you say is ever ridiculous.” Draco said, looking over at you with a sweet smile and you felt yourself warm at his words. “Well in that case,” You paused, looking out over the horizon of the lake. “Do you believe in soulmates?” You posed the question as if you were terrified he’d tell you it was utter rubbish, but when you heard him give you a little hum as he thought about it, Draco leaned over a little, resting his hand on your arm to get your attention.

Meeting his gaze, his blue eyes softened when he saw how nervous you looked and he wondered if someone had told you that it was all an old wives tale.

You seemed to become more shy under his touch and Draco smiled to himself, feeling that it was sweet that you seemed to get so flustered whenever he touched you, even though it had very rarely happened.

“I do, I believe in soulmates.” He reassured you. Draco wanted, with every fibre of his being to show you his book, to tell you everything. But he didn’t. “Did someone tell you it was...” He trailed off. “Stupid? Yeah.” You huffed out. “Do you think there’s someone out there for us?” You asked, relaxing a little as Draco leaned down to gently grip your hand.

“I know there is.” Draco smiled softly.

Sometimes I wonder if I already know you, you wrote. Perhaps we do know each other, but we won’t know until we reach the end of this book, he wrote only moments later. The trundle of the train rolling over the tracks began to lull you into a sleepy state as you sat in a mostly empty carriage on the Hogwarts Express. It was the end of term and while too much had really happened for you to fully compartmentalize and process it all yet, you took solace in knowing that you could figuratively lean on your soulmate for comfort.

You told him everything you felt, almost like a journal and in turn he did the same. He detailed his thoughts, his feelings and he came to you when his day had been too much, but neither of you were too specific. You wished you knew who he was so that you could give him physical comfort, so you could both lean on each other and you wished for this even more so now that you started to wonder if you already knew him.

I promise I’ll write to you as often as I can. You scribbled it down into the book. But there came no answer. And days after you had arrived in London and returned home for the holidays, there was still no response.

If only Draco could tell you what had happened. If only he could write to you and explain it all from beginning to end. But he had no idea if he could, because his only way of communicating with you was no longer in his possession.

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[ivy-goldrush]

Wednesdays Are The Worst

Dumb things have dumb consequences.

Warnings: Grumpy!Bucky, Bucky being a dick, Angst, Eventual smut?, Slow Burn fic, Maybe a touch of jealous!Bucky, 18+ cause swearing

Word Count: 1633

~

It had been a week since the movie night, with your week being uneventful. On the Tuesday you walked into work met with the smell of peaches, finding out Bucky had been in on Monday and dropped them off, so Mary got to baking with them. Thankful that he had come in when you weren’t working, avoiding any type of awkward encounter.

You only had two shifts this week Tuesday and Wednesday, and then you weren’t in again till Thursday, giving you just over a week off. Thursday was spent running around and doing your food shop however on Friday, you had the definition of a Lazy day. You had messaged Steve a couple of times, but he was busy with work and was doing a lot of overtime. Wanda and Vis were out of town for the weekend visiting friends back home. Maria gad said that she was spending a long-awaited weekend with her girlfriend. You weren’t that close with Sam and Clint yet to hang out with them, meaning you and Nat had decided to spend Saturday night together.  

The two of you had decided to go and hit the clubs for a much needed ‘get lose’ session. Nat had suggested that you get ready around hers so you left yours at half 4 in your comfy clothes and a bag of tonight’s outfit and makeup.

Her place wasn’t exactly walking distance to you, so you planned to take the train as it was only a couple of stops and then a ten-minute walk. The train journey was uneventful, and you ended up listening to music for the journey and the short walk to the apartment. By the time you had made it to her apartment, it was a few minutes past 5. Nat opened the door and immediately engulfed you in a hug, practically squeezing the life out of you.

For only knowing each other a short amount of time, the two of you got along like a house on fire. It was as if the two of you had known each other for your entire life, both having a very similar sense of humour.

Nat had already ordered Chinese for you two each whilst getting ready, along with a very large glass of wine. You quickly got down to getting ready, talking during the process.

“So, y/n, what are you wearing tonight?” Nat shot the question whilst she was focusing on her makeup, as you were taking your clothes out of your bag. “This!” You exclaimed as you span around holding an emerald green satin dress with a drape neck. Nat let out a wolf whistle as she laid eyes on the dress, looking it up and down. “Dam, that’s one hell of a dress. No doubt you’ll be the best dressed there.” Laughing at her comment, you sat down in front of the mirror next to her focusing on your makeup.

The makeup was simple, an everyday base, a slight natural smoky eye, eyeliner and a red lip. Leaving your hair in its curly state, as it cascades down your back, deciding to focus on jewellery pairing the outfit with some simple plain gold rings, a dainty gold bracelet and your gold detailed locket.

Nat’s makeup featured a slightly heavy smoky eye, bronzer and a dark lip. Her short hair was pin straight, framing her face. The only jewellery that she donned was a thick silver chain resting closely to her neck. She was wearing a tight black bodycon with black Louboutin’s and she looked absolutely breath-taking. You quickly slipped on your dress and gold heels, clutching your small matching bag, you took one last look in the mirror.

The both of you were wined, dined and dressed by 6pm, and out the door by quarter past. The two of you walked in tandem, arms linked and giggles erupting from you, as you made your way to one of Nat’s most frequented clubs. You were thankful that she was a regular because it meant that you were able to skip the queue that trailed beside the building.

Upon entering the club, you were met with the heavy base of music, shouting and neon lights. Nat immediately dragged you to the bar at the back of the club and plopping you onto a bar stool. Before you knew it drinks were placed in front of you two, appreciating the liquid courage as you swallowed it down, proceeding to do the same with several others. 

Time was flying by and soon enough you had dragged Nat out onto the dance floor. Your bodies were swaying back and forth to the base on the songs, letting yourselves get lost in the moment and in a sea of people. You felt someone place their hand on your waist, trying to pull you back into them. Your eyes snapped open and your senses were on full alert as you quickly spun around, whipping yourself out of the person’s grasp. You were met, face to face, with some sleazy guy who wore an amused expression and from where you were you could practically smell the alcohol on the guy. “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing, you playing hard to get.” The words were slurred and the man stumbled as he tried to get closer to you, prompting you to move further away from him, when he grabbed a hold of your arm. “Get the fuck off of me.” The words were spat as you stared directly into the man's eyes. His grip was persistent as you clasped your hand around his wrist, digging your nails into his skin in an attempt to draw blood.  You held his gaze as you proceeded to raise your knee but before you could even carry out your attempt at kneeing him, he was shoved backwards, grip on your arm falling. He was currently being towered over by another guy. “I suggest you get the fuck outta here before I beat your ass.” Full of anger was present in his voice and you swore that if you weren’t surrounded by people, he would be beaten to a pulp right now. The new guy turned half around, showing you his face as he spoke to someone behind you. “Sam?” Your voice was hardly audible within the club.

All of a sudden, you felt yourself being lifted up and pulled out of the dance floor, leaving Sam to deal with the creep. You brought to the bar and gently placed down, allowing you to spin around to see who had taken you out of the situation.  “What the hell, Bucky.” You knew your voice was loud enough for him to hear but he just ignored you, talking to the bartender. “Two waters please.” His voice was gruff, he still refused to look at you as he ran a hand through his hair, whilst you threw yours up at him. 

As soon as the glasses were placed in front of him, he shoved one into your hand, the other in his. This allowed for Bucky’s free hand to secure a place around your waist, helping guide you in the right direction, but as soon as he tried to move you, you protested. “For fucks sake, doll, move your butt.” His voice was slightly strained as if he was holding back but the angry tone was very much evident. “What are you playing at Bucky?” Your voice was just above a whisper and the only response you got from him was a dramatic eye roll. “My God! Why are you so stubborn!” You made a small protest at his outburst, trying to bite your tongue, but not succeeding. “You know what? Fuck you, Barnes! I was nice to you but you were a complete and utter dick to me, so I'm so sorry that I didn’t give you a warm fucking welcome, but your not exactly rainbows and butterflies when you’re giving me whiplash with the way you behave!” With that you made your way in the direction you were originally heading, chest heaving, with Bucky turning and following suit.

It wasn’t long before the two of you arrived at a booth where Clint and Nat were sat talking. Bucky had come to a halt mere centimetres away from you, placing his hand on the small of your back giving you a small push towards them, earning him a muttered “Asshole” from you. The broad man just chuckled and proceeded to whisper in your ear “Fucking brat.”. Instantly, your body turned facing him and you reared yourself back slightly from him, before bringing the glass of water in your hand up and launching the contents at him. You didn’t think you just acted and the result was so worth it. Bucky’s face was dripping wet and his navy and white shirt was soaked. But the expression that was written on his face at first was shock until it turned and clouded into anger. Quickly, you pushed past him muttering that you needed to go to the bathroom.

You hadn’t realised that you had been followed until you heard Nat softly speak. “What happened back there? Are you okay?” The honesty and general concern of her voice was a vast contrast to the truth, uncaring . “I think I’m gonna call it a night, Nat, I’ll just cause more trouble with him, I’ll call myself a cab.” You turned to face the red head with a brave face. “I’m fine honestly, just tired that’s all.” You smiled smally at her. She had agreed to stay with you until the car arrived and walked you out to say goodbye. Soon afterward, you were seated in the cab and shortly on your way home. Naïvely hoping that things would just settle down on their own.

~

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[yespolkadotkitty]

I’ll Be by Edwin McCain came on the other day and instantly got me into my Zach feels. Something about it was so him - the mood, the 90s, the flannel. The line “rain falls angry on the tin roof as we lie awake in my bed” in particular sticks with me. If you have time, can I get a little nugget of Zach? Fluff or smut, or fluff with a wee kernel or smut? I love your writing.

Right so as discussed you didn’t ask for a multichapter fic but as I’ve got 4 chapters so far  LET’S DO THIS

So many shoutouts for this so here goes:

THANKYOU @kindablackenedsuperhero for this STUNNING BANNER.

THANKYOU @thestrawberry-thief for US library advice

THANKYOU @heatherbel for the beta and UK library advice

THANKYOU @knittingqueen13 for the encouragement

THANKYOU @pedropascallion  for the library clerk advice!

THANKYOU @disgruntledspacedad and @alienprincesspoop for screaming with me about this fic.

Chapter One

Warnings: Scenes of assault, attempted sexual assault  ~ Words: 1380

Pairing: Zach Wellison x OFC Martha Song

Walk with your keys in your hand and keep a key between each finger.

Watch your shadows and reflections - a split second’s notice is better than none.

If they take you and put you in the trunk, kick out the headlights.

These are all things girls are taught from a young age. Things I knew, almost unconsciously. Things that were smart.

But did knowing these things stop me from taking a shortcut through the park after the sun had set?

No, they did not.

I had my hand in my pocket, around the keys. I did not have headphones on - needed to hear if someone was approaching.

Usually, I did all the safe things at night. Walked in the road if it was appropriate, so someone would have to come out from the pavements and buildings to grab me. Stuck to well lit areas.

But, well, I was tired, and hungry for the Chinese takeout leftovers in my fridge, could already taste the sticky pork ribs in my mind, and I took the lazy, unsafe shortcut.

I’m sure the media would have blamed me for what happened next.

I heard them before I saw them. I turned slightly. Two guys, one wearing a beanie, another with his hood up.

It wasn’t even seven pm, but in January the sun set earlier, and darkness had descended, filling up all the corners that daylight usually illuminated.

I quickened my pace. I’m sure they’re just coming off shift.

“Hey, babe,” one of them called.

I glanced around. No one else in the vicinity, and the park spread flat enough for me to see. A single streetlight ahead beckoned and I headed for it, the bag of books from work on my back slowing me down.

I thought about ditching it, but: books. I value books more than anything. I couldn’t sacrifice them even for my own benefit.

“Not gonna stop and talk?” the other one called.

They’re just cat-callers, nothing to worry about.

It was just shy of seven in the evening - where the fuck was everyone? LA should have been busy, was always bustling, but I had somehow chosen the one time where this section of the popular park was empty.

“Come on baby, spare a little sugar?” the first one called. Their steps got closer. The second one was snickering and I felt the little mouse of fear skitter down my spine.

I clenched my keys tighter. Shouldn’t have taken the shortcut.

The streetlight got closer, and I watched it, saw the first guy’s shadow with a hair’s breadth of notice. I spun as he reached me, the keys poking out between my fingers, but I was scared and all my punch did was piss him off.

“Pretty girl,” he half wheezed as he grabbed for me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

I struggled. Under the streetlamp I caught a glimpse of the first guy’s face, straggly mousy brown beard, cold eyes. The pit of my stomach fell.

“Let me.” Guy two was at my back, hands on my waist. He smelled of alcohol and something like old food, and bile rose up in my throat. “Loosen up, baby, we only wanna make you feel good.”

I tried to shout, but the noise died on my tongue. Fear had clutched itself around my body and the muscles weren’t responding. My keys fell from my fist.

Help, I thought. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the first guy slid his hand down my body.

No, no, no.

Then suddenly a rush of adrenaline hit my veins - come on, what would Katniss Everdeen do? - and I shoved my knee up into guy one’s groin. Not as hard as I wanted to, but he cried out, a litany of swear words falling from his lips. I kicked out, but guy two was stronger, and had an arm around my throat before I could move.

“Come on now. Don’t be like that,” he cajoled, his sour breath licking at my cheek.

By then guy one had recovered, his face caught in a snarl, white skin pasty under the streetlight. I felt like I was in a sort of backwards ballet, a dystopian dance where there was no way I could make the right moves.

“Hey, assholes.”

The new voice, deep, with a bit of Texas drawl, made me turn. 

A man, mostly in shadow, a large duffel bag by his feet, wielded what looked like a big section of industrial metal pipe.

Guy two huffed out a laugh. “Oh look, it’s the little soldier boy and he brought a new toy with him.”

“Let her go, man,” the stranger called out, taking a step closer.

Guy one had recovered from my knee to his dick. “Or you’ll do what?” He grabbed for me again, but he was distracted by my would-be rescuer, so I took the opportunity to knee him again, but this time, like I meant it, like my life depended on it.

He buckled, and the release meant I could drive my elbow back into guy two’s kidneys. He was stronger, through, and he tightened his arm around my throat. I grabbed for his wrist, scrabbling, barely noticing the stranger moving out of my sight.

“Duck!” He yelled, and I summoned all my strength to yank my head down.

In a moment, a loud thunk confirmed my suspicions, the sound of metal on flesh and bone, and guy two toppled like a tree.

Breathless, I turned to scoop up my keys, and stared at my knight in - dirty jeans. He was panting, his arms still holding the pipe up.

“You okay?” he asked, and I saw him clearly under the streetlamp, the glow picking out the gold in his brown-sugar hair. A patchy beard, more stubble than anything, hugged his well defined jaw. His eyes were soft, kind, the deep brown of hot cocoa.

“I am thanks to you.”

Below him, guy one writhed on the floor and, feeling too angry to think, I stomped on the part of him closest to me, his hand.

He cried out and I couldn’t have cared less.

“You wanna call the cops?” the stranger asked, but his tone was wary. As if I might have been just as likely to call the law about him as the attackers.

I thought it over. I’d likely be raked over the coals for having the audacity to walk alone at night (as if anytime after sundown could be counted as night) and my attackers would get a wrist slap. If that.

“Nah.” But I stomped on guy one’s wrist again for good measure.

He whined.

“C’mon,” Brown Eyes said. “I’ll walk you to the edge of the park.” He set the pipe on his shoulder and crossed over to the waiting duffle bag. It was the size of his torso. I took in his weathered, unshaven appearance, and wondered if the canvas fabric contained his every worldly possession.

I checked behind me, but the stranger was quick to reassure. “They won’t be back for a couple days.”

“You’ve… seen them before?”

He ducked his head, and in the glow from a nearby streetlamp I saw a faint flush of rose on his cheeks. “I’m... here a lot.”

He’s homeless. But of course I didn’t say it out loud.

We reached the edge of the park. People milled about, some queueing outside a deli popular for its pizza sold by the cheesy, greasy slice.

I didn’t miss the way the stranger’s head jerked up towards the scent of pizza.

How long since he’d eaten?

“Want some pizza?” I asked.

Something unreadable passed over his face. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Oh, but I am?”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“Did you come to my defence just now because you felt sorry for me? Oh look, there’s a woman of colour being attacked, gosh I feel sorry for her-”

“No, of course not, what the-” then he huffed out a laugh. “Touchė.”

“It’s just pizza. And a thank-you. I’m Martha.” I held out a hand.

He looked down at my outstretched palm for a second, as if surprised that I wanted to touch him. Then he shook my hand, his own large, warm, callused. “Zach.”

***********

Tagging: @thegreenkid @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @littlemissthistle @havenforafrazzledmind @myheart-pedro @john-in-the-sky-with-paul @idreamofboobear @rae-gar-targaryen @miulola @abuttoncalledsmalls @buttercup-bee @strangelittlenobody @qseomilk @jazzelsaur @songsformonkeys @mourningbirds1 @pajamasecrets @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @skdubbs @nelba @badassbaker @nelba @f0rever15elf @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylittlelonelyappreciation @theravenreads @filthybookworm @aeryntheofficial @toomanystoriessolittletime @lannister-slings-and-arrows (Zach Pit) and @absurdthirst might like this <3

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[skellebonez]

He's Been Hurt Enough (Monkie Kid Cursed AU Fanfic)

And here it is, the follow up to Stop Lying To Me! This went through an overall minor rewrite after @winterpower98 posted some more Cursed AU art and I think it turned out much better for it.

Quick note: once again this is my interpretation of a possible way the revelation could go. I decided to go with a “Mac told Sun everything while MK was transformed last time and that’s part of why he got the stuffing beat out of him and was out of commission last fic” angle. (also no I definitely did not accidently post a draft of the summary by itself when I meant to queue this, that totally did not happen(that happened))

Summary: Wukong has questions, Macaque surprisingly has answers, and MK... well, MK is going to be just fine if Macaque has anything to say about it.

Warnings: mild descriptions of healing inuries from the last fic, hint of child neglect if you are familiar with the AU, Macaque is sightly (incredibly) out of it due to medicine

----------

The first thing Macaque noticed when he came to was that his head felt... wobbly, despite the fact he was clearly laying down and not moving. The second thing he noticed was a disgustingly bitter sweet taste sticking to his tongue. The third thing he noticed was that he laying chest down on a (very small and familiar smelling) pile of clothes. The fourth thing, oh it was a lot of things coming very slowly right after the other which was odd, was that he was completely shirtless and that the only reason he noticed this so slowly was half of his body was almost fascinatingly numb, outside of the warmth of the fire that seemed to be burning in front of him. The last thing he noticed was a very close, also very familiar, and very angry (worried?) looking face of a monkey right in front of his (coincidentally blocking most of that fire light).

"Congratulations," Wukong said flatly. "You are officially not dead."

Macaque stared at the other monkey for a moment before attempting to speak, coughing as the dryness of his throat hit him full force. Before he could move himself, Wukong grabbed his face (gently, more gently than he remembered being touched by the other in so long) and held something to his lips. When he tilted the object and water began to hit his lips he opened his mouth and drank, Wukong never allowing the water to flow from the canteen fast enough to risk him choking on it. It must have been emptied after a short while because the Monkey King took it away faster than Macaque would have liked, but it had been more than enough to quench his thirst and allow him to clear his throat and begin talking. "What... happened?"

The angry (worryied?) look on the other's face deepened. "Should I start when I woke up to you bleeding out over my sucessor? Or should I start when I tried to give you medicine the first time you woke up and you shoved the entire thing in your mouth?"

Well. That second bit explained part of the numbness. And the taste. And possibly why his head felt like it was swimming in that iced cream stuff MK liked so much. He was almost certainly, no definitely, very out of it from whatever Wukong had intended to use to dull his pain. Fantastic.

Instead of voicing all of this he simply said "The... first part?" His voice was rough, but firmer than it had been the first time. He had not realized how almost slurred his words has originally sounded. Wukong' expression softened and. Oh... OH, it was a worried look after all. Huh. Macaque did not expect that. That was... well, not new. But he hadn't seen that in a long time. He... missed that. He didn't realize he had missed that.

"I woke up and I smelled... blood," Wukong started softly. "I was confused, I thought that maybe I hadn't been out for very long after we calmed down MK and you hadn't treated my wounds yet but," his hand went to his side where the bandages Macaque and the kid had carefully applied still held tight. "When I looked around I saw you. Laying face down with one arm over him. And you were just. Just COVERED in blood Macaque. I thought you two had been attacked, I didn't know what kind of demon could do that to you and thought that both of you were hurt." He ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath, reaching over to prepare something behind him. "It wasn't until I rushed over that I realized that MK was passed out and aside from scratches on his arms you were the only one that was badly hurt."

There it was, the memory of what happened finally came back to him. Telling the kid the truth. The kid losing it. Holding him until he was able to fight back the transformation. The claws. The bite. His arm throbbed, the first not numb thing about his body he felt (though not fully painful), and he was surprised that he hadn't noticed his injured arm laying out in front of him until that moment, fully bandaged and (thankfully) not looking like he was missing a chunk of himself after all.

"MK's been out since I got up. You were completely unresponsive until early sundown, and when you did wake up you were in too much pain to tell me anything. I tried to get you to take some medicine but you grabbed my arm and shoved the entire bundle in our mouth. You passed back out before you could try to eat the salve I put on your wounds too. I'm amazed y-"

"I told him," Macaque interupted without prompting, and when Wuking spun around (too fast you idiot you're going to hurt yourself) with a wet cloth in hand he just let the words fall from his mouth. Why stop them? He had already told Wukong as much as he had told the kid, and the evidence of what had transpired was litterally all over him. Not much he could hide now. It was the exact opposite of what happened then, no more tar and honey returning. Bittersweet and if he were to give it flavor it would be buttercups. "After he passed out the first time I treated your wounds and when he woke up he helped me and then started asking questions..."

Without saying a word Wukong sat and listened, face tightening as he gingerly removed something from his back (gauze perhaps, he had no bandages on) and ran the cloth over numb cuts. He looked only between the wounds and Macaque's face, letting him retell every detail. "Kid tried to fight it but I just. I didn't know what to do when he started to change again so I... I..." He coughed, throat growing dry again.

This time Wukong stopped him, holding the canteen (not empty after all) to his lips again. They sat in silence for a moment, him drinking and Wukong turning to grab a container and fresh gauze and bandages when he stopped. He nodded, going back to the other monkey's back and Macaque realized the container was healing salve for his wounds. He didn't need it or the medicine, not really, but even with his fast healing and sturdyness it never hurt to have extra help to speed up the healing process. "You what, Macaque?"

"I... think I... hugged him into submission?" Macaque scowled, not sure if he even believed what he was saying and not missing the shocked look on the other's face. "And he bit me." He added quickly.

"He BIT you!?" The Monkey King leaned sideways, looking at Macaque increduously before his gaze veered over to his bandaged arm. "Well. That explains... the everything. Your back and arms looked like you were nearly gored from behind, but with how long his claws get when... yeah, that adds up."

"Is he ok?" The question came out without him even thinking about it. Damn medicine... But this only seemed to make Wukong shake his head with a surprised chuckle.

"Yeah, MK is fine. Exhausted, but fine. I treated his arms after I got your back to stop bleeding." He went back to applying the salve, touch a bit more firm as he rubbed it through his now less matted fur. The pressure would have normally made Macaque tense but now it just made him relax further into the clothes he was resting on (which he now noticed were Wukong's top layers and a blanket the kid insisted they each got at one of the many villages they passed through).

For a while the two remained silent, the Monkey King dressing the wounds on the Six Eared Macaque's back. Maybe it was the exhaustion kicking back in or something else, but Macaque just allowed himself to lay there and not think of anything. His mind tried to wander a bit, somewhat toward the kid and somewhat toward the odd reactions of the king, but nothing really stuck with his head swimming as it was. He only opened his eyes (when had he let them close?) when he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He watched as the bandages were unwrapped slowly and the same treatment given to his back was repeated.

"You're lucky he didn't bite your dominant arm," Wukong said softly, finally breaking the silence with a shakiness in his voice that was almost missed. "Or break your arm completely. You'll heal fine, but if you were anyone else you wouldn't even have an arm to treat right now...." He shook his head and under his breath he heard the king mutter "What were you thinking?"

Macaque looked away, gaze catching the still sleeping form of MK on the other side of the low fire. The kid would be exhausted from his second (almost) transformation in 24 hours for a while yet and that made his chest hurt just like before. He remembered the betrayal on his face, so much like and yet so much worse than when he betrayed him by stealing his powers. He remembered how the kid seemed to need the hug he had offered him so long ago at the start of all this as much as he did. He remembered how scared he looked at the prospect of seeing his parents again when he asked about them. And he remembered how much he kid laughed on this journey, how happy he seemed every time he was praised for even the smallest things, how he offered Macaque so much without asking for anything in return even before he put that stupid headband on the kid. He remembered how, despite everything... MK wasn't giving up on him...

He looked back at Wukong, grabbing his leg with as much strength as he could muster in his hurt arm until the other returned his gaze. "He's been hurt enough."

There was an understanding in Sun Wukong's eyes. For the first time in more years than Six Eared Macaque would admit... they understood each other completely without needing more words. MK had been hurt enough. They would take as much hurt away from him as they could.

The moment was broken when his grip weakened he closed his eyes, unable to stay open for as long as he would like, and when he opened them back up Wukong had already finished bandaging up his arm. He noticed a soft pressure around his tail but said nothing, not right now, and he only moved when there was a gentle tapping on his side. "Can you sit up a bit? I need to put on bandages, then you should get some more rest."

Macaque complied, using his good arm to raise himself up just enough for the other's arms to go under and around him to pass the bandages between hands (no, it was not a "almost hug" no matter what his tired brain told him). It was done sooner than expected and a gentle hand on his shoulder pushed him down into the soft fabric beneath him, his gaze fixed firmly on the soundly sleeping form of the kid as he watched to make sure he was really just sleeping.

If he noticed that there were soft claws running through his hair he said nothing. And if Wukong noticed the squeeze of a tail against his own he said nothing either. Eventually he let his eyes slip closed once more, feelin his chest rumble in a soft purr. The claws against his scalp stopped and there was a warmth after a while, a weight around him. Wukong must have laid a blanet over him, but the claws returned and their tails remained intertwined even as he moved to his other side. It wasn't until he felt a rumble beside him that wasn't his own that he realized the blanket was over both of them. He said nothing, not caring about the implications as he allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

And if he, maybe, dreamed of watching the two people he had reluctantly grown to care most about happy... well, he wouldn't say anything about that either.

[outerbankspreferences]

50 Wordless Ways to say I love you

Word Count: 1683

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Every time I sit down to write a shirt blurb it always turns out long. Every time I sit down to write a long blurb it always turns out long. I can’t seem to win. I’m always taking request, and message me if you wanted to get added to the tag list :)

#14. Singing and dancing to their favorite song.

  It was Madison Bailey’s birthday coming up and you had started a tradition last season on everyone birthday to make them a cake of their choice. You always loved baking and found it therapeutic and soothing. You and Madison were roommates while filming season two of the show, and you kicked her out of the apartment so you could surprise her.

You asked Drew to come over and help considering him, and Austin lived in the same building. In all honest, the two living in the same apartment worked out great for you because you had a huge crush on Drew. You had since you meet him at the beginning of filming season one. Your characters were love interest, and at first you didn’t know if the lines of acting were getting hazy, but you soon realized it wasn’t. You had some serious feelings for him, but you were too nervous he didn’t like you back.

 You were greasing the pans for the cake when you heard a knock on your door, and then was greeted by Drew. “What’s cooking good looking?” He laughed kissing the top of your head, giving you butterflies. “Only the best birthday cake in the entire world.” You said in a half serious tone, “where’s your partner in crime?” You asked looking for Austin. “Uh-he went to play basketball with JD, so just me and you are today. Is that okay?” He asked walking over to your speaker. A whole afternoon just to two of you, of course you were okay with that. “Yeah sure, did you download that playlist I showed you?” You asked, the two of you having similar taste in music.

 “Of course, I did, I don’t know how you find such good playlist.” He said turning on the music, “so how can I help?” “Well, do you know how to bake Drew?” You asked, have never done this with him before. “I would rate myself like a seven and a half out of ten” He said confident. “Okay, well why don’t you measure all the ingredients, and put them into these little bowls so I can post something cute to my Instagram and then we’ll get started.” You said handing him the recipe with the measurements.

 You preheated the oven and got the stuff together for the frosting. You prepped all the pipping bags and sprinkles in Madison favorite colors. “Did you get Madison something for her birthday?” Drew was the first to break the comfortable silence. “I did, I got her a gift certificate for a spa place for her and Mariah this weekend.” You told him proud of your gift. “Shit, I forgot to her something, I’ve so busy filming, do you know what she wants?” He asked. “Um- she broke her Bluetooth speaker last week, maybe get her that? That’s why we’ve been stuck using my crappy one.” You said laughing finishing get your stuff together. “Okay, are you done with the measuring?” You asked, looking over his shoulder. “You know that’s a good idea, do you want to come with me when we’re done this?” He asked moving out the way so you could see he finished.

 “I would love that.” You say grabbing your phone and taking a picture of Drew’s hard work, adding a cute filter before posting it to your Instagram. “You know she’s going to see your “Why are you posting that your IG story, she’ll know that’s what you’re making.” Drew said not understanding why you were taking a picture. “I know she’ll see it, that’s why I made cookies earlier. She’ll think I was making those and not her birthday cake.” You explained, grabbing some bowls to mix the stuff in. “Okay, you mix the wet ingredients together, and I’ll mix the dry and then we combine them together in the end.” You explained handing him bowl. “Why can’t we just mix everything in one bowl, you’re making more of mess.” He asked looking down at you, “uh-I don’t know, you just can’t. Those are the rules Andrew.” You responded sarcastically. “Oh god, not the full name. Remind me not to question your authority again.” He said shoving you shoulder playful.

 Drew loved to hear you say his full name, normally it was something he despised but not with you. He was excited when you offered for him and Austin to come over and help bake the cake. When you asked him the day before you told him the Austin was welcome too. Normally Madison would help you, but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise. He didn’t invite Austin though, wanting to spend as much time alone together as you could. He would take any chance he could whether it be running lines, watching a movie, carpooling to work.

 Everyone in the cast knew you guys had a thing for each other and encouraged the both of you to make a move, but nether of you did. Drew nor you ever thought you guys would have chance with each other. So, you guys would just spend time together, dancing around feelings, and awkward moments.

 As you guys finished mixing the ingredients together you poured the batter and put it into the oven. “Okay, that should take about twenty minutes to bake and then we can make the frosting while it’s cooling.” You said grabbing some of the dishes putting them in the dishwasher. “Who taught you how to bake?” Drew asked, curious on how the habit started. You smile thinking about your childhood. You turned around to face him, leaning against the counter. “My mom taught me. When I was kid, she used to bake all the time. If it weren’t someone’s birthday, she would say they’re ‘I love you’ cakes. I guess after that I always found joy in it. I know it’s kind of cliche girl thing, but”- “No I like that you do stuff like this, it’s not cliché.” Drew said cutting you off before you could bad mouth your favorite pass time.

 That’s when your favorite song on the playlist came on. Drew looked over at you, knowing it was your favorite. He loved seeing the light in eyes when ever it came on. “Ugh, I love this song” you say humming along to the words while looing at your phone. Drew got up from the chair he was sitting on, and grabbed your hand pulling you close to dance with him. “I know, that’s why I added it to the queue, come dance with me.” The two of you danced like idiots while you sang to the song. Drew spun you around, and you almost tripped and fell but he caught you, the two of you giggling. You looked into his eyes, the two of you close enough you could feel his breath on your face. ‘Just do it, kiss him’ you thought to yourself, and the next thing you know, you’re closing the small gap between you two.

 Drew was shocked at first, not believing he was kissing you. Your lips were softer than he had expected, and they tasted like raspberries, most likely from your lip balm. He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer kissing you back. You guys made out for a couple more minutes before you pulled away from lack of air. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me”- you started to stumble over your words when Drew leaned down and kissed you again. “it’s okay Y/N/N, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for while I just didn’t think you felt the same way for me.” He said with a little grin.

 You couldn’t believe you waited that long to show him how you felt, and now that you had you were glad, he felt the same way. “I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way, I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.” You said almost in whisper, a blush creeping on your cheeks. Drew leaned down and kissed you again, “of course I feel the same about you. How could I not? You’re such an amazing person.” His kind words causing a blush to form again. You hid you face in his chest, making him laugh.

 The two of you were pulled away from your conversation when the timer went off for the cake. “Oh, it’s ready!” Drew said rushing over to the oven taking the cakes out. “I’ll grab the stuff to start making the frost, and you can take the cakes out of the oven.” You directed. “Yes chef.” Drew saluted you in joking matter. Once he took the cakes out, you tested it with a knife to make sure it was cooked all the way through. You cut a bit off the top to make sure it tasted okay, giving a piece to Drew.

 Once you took a bit you immediately made a face, the cake tasted terrible. You looked at Drew trying to judge his reaction, laughing when he made the same face you did. “I don’t mean to be an asshole, but this taste terrible Y/N/N.” You grabbed the recipe off the counter and read the instruction. “I don’t understand I made this recipe a hundred times, it always turns out good. Three cups of flour, a teaspoon of vanilla, two teaspoons of salt, a”- “did you just say two teaspoons of salt?” Drew asked with wide eyes. “Yeah, why how much did you put in?” “Uh, well I though it meant tablespoon, so I put two tablespoons of salt.” He said rubbing the back of his neck cheeks turning red.

 You start to laugh at him, finding his embarrassment hilarious. “Oh, come on love it’s not that funny.” He says wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Don’t worry I can bake.” You say mocking him. “I guess Madison is getting a store-bought cake this year.” You say turning around kissing him. “At least I can kiss better then I can bake.” He said making the both of you laugh.

TAGLIST:

lemur46  

fttayla

drewstarkeysbitchh

[cosmic-goddess-leo]

White Wedding

AgedUp!Bokuto x Reader SMUT

Summary: Bokuto and (Y/n) celebrate their wedding in the best way possible

WordCount: 1627

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Daddy Kink, choking

Author’s Note: This is a lil birthday gift for @allywritesimagines​ , I hope you like iiit!

Car rides with Bokuto were usually anything but quiet. He was as bouncy and energetic during long trips on the road as he was any other time of the day.

So why was he so quiet now?

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, (Y/n) knew that much. The silence was thick with sexual tension, enough to suffocate the two as they drove to the cabin they had rented for the week. It made (Y/n) fan at themselves, grateful they had changed out of their wedding dress and into something more comfortable.

The silk garment was meant to be their dress for the reception, something more breathable and easier to move in as opposed to the gown they had selected for their big day. But (Y/n) would be lying if they said they picked it unaware it would drive Bokuto mad the entire night.

Based on the way his eyes occasionally trailed from the road to glance at the fabric riding up (Y/n)’s thigh, they knew they made a good choice.

The tension only thickened when the cabin came into view. (Y/n) couldn’t hold back the smile that bloomed on their face, especially when Bokuto began to visibly shift in the driver’s seat from excitement.

Bokuto wordlessly shut off the car, came around to the passenger’s side, and opened the door for (Y/n). “Our honeymoon suite awaits, my love.”

(Y/n) smiled wider before practically leaping out of the car and into Bokuto’s arms, causing the two to burst into a fit of giggles. He kicked the car door shut before adjusting (Y/n) to hold them bridal style.

He effortlessly carried them into the cabin, breathing in the scent of the hardwood floors and walls. Bokuto wanted to savor this moment, walking through the threshold of the cabin, officially beginning his honeymoon with the love of his life in his arms.

He was soon pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a familiar plush pair of lips pressing kisses along his strong jawline. Bokuto glanced down at his spouse, lips quirking up into a smirk when their eyes met. He knew (Y/n) like the back of his hand, but he didn’t need to be a genius to know what was on their mind.

(Y/n) opened their mouth to say something witty, but Bokuto was already halfway up the stairs and on his way to the bedroom when they finally realized what was going on.

They squealed as Bokuto tossed them onto the large bed, slipping into another fit of giggles as he quickly pounced on them, causing the bed frame to creak. 

“What’s on the agenda for tonight, husband?” they purred, reaching up and shedding him of his black suit jacket.

“I have a few ideas...” he smirked, a glint in his eye as (Y/n) began slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

(Y/n) felt their mouth water once Bokuto tossed aside the dress shirt, his bare chest practically glowing from the moonlight shining through the bedroom windows.

They watched intently as his muscles moved and flexed when he removed his slacks and underwear, their eyes immediately being drawn to their husband’s freed cock.

If anyone had a dick that could be described as ‘beautiful,’ it would be Bokuto. A man as big as he was of course had a cock to match, the girth enough to cause the perfect amount of pain mixed with pleasure with each thrust.

Their thoughts were interrupted with the snap of Bokuto’s fingers, forcing their eyes to meet his. “Someone’s distracted...” he tsked, his fingers trailing from (Y/n)’s ankles, up their calves, and to their thighs where the silk dress had rode up. “I think I need to get your attention...”

Without warning, he lifted the dress up to (Y/n)’s hips and shoved his face between their thighs. A moan escaped his lips once me pressed a kiss to their clothed core, causing one to bubble from (Y/n)’s lips as well. “You’re already soaking through your panties for me, huh?”

(Y/n) felt ready to gush at his cocky tone. Their eyes never left his as Bokuto tugged off their underwear with his teeth before tossing the lacey garment aside.

Bokuto eagerly returned to his previous spot between their legs and began lapping at their folds, moaning in ecstasy at their taste. (Y/n) moaned shakily, instinctively attempting to press their thighs together only for Bokuto to hold them apart.

He took hold of one of their thighs and propped it onto his broad shoulder, allowing more access to the pussy he was currently feasting on. Bokuto was always so eager when he ate (Y/n) out, his tongue working wonders against their folds while his thumb traced tight circles on their clit.

(Y/n) already felt so close to bursting that it wasn’t fair. Their hands wove into Bokuto’s wild hair, gripping at the dual-toned locks in an attempt to slow him down.

Bokuto only growled against their cunt, his mouth now focusing on their clit and sucking roughly at the bundle of nerves. (Y/n)’s moans began to grow louder as they clenched around nothing, aching to be filled by whatever Bokuto was willing to offer.

“Daddy please!” (Y/n) squealed, their legs quivering from the sheer amount of pleasure they were receiving.

Bokuto smirked from between their legs, dragging his tongue up their entrance as he stared into their eyes. “Please? That’s so unspecific...”

Just as (Y/n) felt like they were on the brink of damn tears Bokuto plunged two fingers into their core, immediately pushing them over the edge to their first orgasm. (Y/n) writhed and moaned wildly, all while Bokuto smirked up at them.

“Ohhh damn baby, so quick!” he teased, licking (Y/n)’s slick off his lips as he continued pumping into them. “Got another one in you before I fuck you properly?”

(Y/n) quickly shook their head, their breathing uneven as they struggled to ride out their high. It was difficult to focus on anything when Bokuto had his fingers fucking into them roughly.

“I think you do...” he trailed off as he curled his fingers inside of (Y/n), pulling more moans from their parted lips. “Daddy knows you can deliver for him, yeah?”

Damn him and those arms... they thought, clenching around him as they watched his veiny arms flexing with each pump of his fingers. 

“F-Fuck you, Daddy...” they whimpered, fingers gripping the covers of the bed like a vice.

Bokuto’s hand was around (Y/n)’s throat in an instant, her juices rubbing off onto her neck. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” he growled, adding pressure to their windpipe.

(Y/n) was so caught up in the feeling of being choked that they almost didn’t notice Bokuto’s tip prodding into their slit. The corners of their lips twitched up into a slight smirk as they gripped their husband’s muscular arm, urging him to choke them harder. “Wouldn’t be much fun otherwise, would it?” they murmured.

Bokuto only answered with the snap of his hips, hissing through his gritted teeth at (Y/n)’s tight heat. (Y/n) practically screamed, throwing their head back in bliss at the sudden feeling of Bokuto filling them.

He swore he almost lost himself in that first thrust every time he fucked (Y/n), the only thing keeping him grounded each time was the way (Y/n) squealed and cried for more.

As if on queue, (Y/n) dug their nails into Bokuto’s arm, practically sobbing for him to start moving. Who was Bokuto to deny his spouse?

Bokuto began thrusting into (Y/n) roughly, his moans mingling with theirs as he kept them pinned beneath him. His powerful body had the bed frame shifting with each thrust, the sound of the furniture struggling to accommodate their fucking almost making (Y/n) laugh.

They willed themself to wrap their legs around Bokuto’s thick hips, their moans going up an octave at the new angle. It allowed Bokuto’s cock to hit their g-spot perfectly with each thrust.

Bokuto suddenly braced his free hand against the headboard, his chest heaving as he felt his orgasm approaching fast. He leaned down towards his lover, pulling them by their throat to meet him halfway.

His golden eyes stared into theirs, lust and desperation swirling in his pupils. Their moans echoed through the room, intermingling with the sounds of skin smacking against skin as they neared the end.

Bokuto crashed his lips against (Y/n)’s, giving them the extra push they needed to reach their orgasm. (Y/n)’s strangled moans were muffled by Bokuto’s lips for only a moment.

He parted from their lips, pressed his forehead to theirs, then gave his own strangled groan, his hips practically spasming as he painted (Y/n)’s walls white with his thick cum. 

His fingers twitched around (Y/n)’s throat, tightening his grip as they both rode out their orgasms. He finally released them from his powerful grip and allowed them to lay back against the mattress completely.

Bokuto kept himself propped above his partner, not wanting to unsheathe himself from their heat quite yet. The two laid there, still connected to one another as they steadied their breathing and savored the moment with one another.

(Y/n) felt themselves dozing off until Bokuto pressed a sweet kiss to their lips, then their nose, then their cheek, then their throat.

“I love you...” he breathed, locking eyes with his spouse once more.

They looked lovingly back into his eyes, causing a small smile to pull at his lips as they cupped his cheek. “I love you more...”

[tim-burton-bitch]

Tw: pre-romantic prinxiety, slight near-panic attack mentions, mentions of storms, descriptions of crushing, mentions of deep sea swimming, mentions of lack of escape and difficulty breathing, semi-shitty writing, I think cursing this has been sitting in google for a while I wrote this back in like early November at 3 am let me know if there's any others minor spoilers for FWSA

This was written the same night as this one and takes place after technically it's meant to take place shortly after the 2020 election was called this one is just fluff despite all the trigger warnings it's just an idea of the minor similarities yet differences between Roman and Remus' rooms like how it would feel to be in them and I had to write it out and the original idea had come from think of Virgil going in their rooms and describing how they made him feel so I ended up writing it as prinxiety and I like how the descriptions turned out this follows the same headcanons as the previous one shot added on is Roman is also an insomniac sometimes he has a lot of ideas sometimes he keeps working having gotten absorbed into his work sometimes he's overwhelmed with emotions inspiration or just plain can't sleep

Word count: 1,708 words

Virgil sighed, he couldn't sleep again. Why? He didn't know, sometimes it was Remy being a petty bitch sometimes because his anxiety was running high. Some nights he just... COULDN'T. This was one of those nights.

He had been scrolling through tumblr for a surpls of hours, it was nearing 5am, groaning Virgil decided to head downstairs and get some coffee. No point trying to sleep if it just wasn't gonna happen.

He got up slipping on his hoodie over the My Chemical Romance shirt and sweatpants he was trying to sleep in. Grabbing his phone he slipped out the door and into the hall.

He would have gone and asked Roman if he wanted to watch Disney or something had he known for sure Roman was awake tonight. As he snuck down the hall he noticed Roman's door was slightly ajar, a slight breeze blew from the crack in the door. This would not be the first time Virgil had been in Roman's room. Nor the first time he found out Roman's room could be altered to what Roman wished, imagination and all that. In fact being honest he hadn't been surprised at all when he found out, because Remus' room also held that ability. What had surprised Virgil was not the fact it was altered but insteadd what it had been altered to.

The first time he had found out for sure Roman's room could change too it had been late at night, and he had found Roman in the middle of a feild beneath stormclouds watching a lightning storm above him. Virgil had always found lightning storms relaxing. So long as the lightning was far off. It had never struck him as something that the fanciful prince would also find a peace and serenity in storms. And yet that had been what Virgil found, the prince laying on his back in the center of a feild watching the lightning storm. Explaining when he noticed Virgil come in (and asked him to shut the door) that it was peaceful in its own right and he enjoyed changing his room when he was overwhelmed, sometimes with ideas sometimes emotionally.

Feeling overwhelmed was something new to the prince to admit and right now only Virgil knew his secret. They helped each other when they felt overwhelmed or broke down ever since the day Janus had shared his name and Roman broke down to Virgil.

Virgil stepped up to the door enjoying both Roman's company and Roman's rooms ability, as well as usually finding a common scene they both found relaxing, he was curious to discover what the room was tonight.

Roman did not disapoint

Virgil LOVED space. There was always something about the vast mystery that was space. Calm an peaceful.... He and Logan could often be found talking about space and the night sky. Logan would let Virgil into his room to use his telescope whenever Virgil wished.

Tonight, Roman's room was breathtaking. Roman lay in the center of a greeen meadow staring up into a stary night sky. The green seemed to go on forever and technically, it did.

Virgil stepped into the meadow far closer to a pale blue in the moonlight. He quietly shut the door behind him and walked over the the man who lay alone in the center of the grassy meadow, watching the sky slowly move.

"Hey starry-eyes, room for one more?" Virgil asked as he sat down beside the older sides head.

Roman let out a chuckle eyes focusing on the emo now leaning over him, "Always is room for you, so what do you think?"

"The night sky? Seriously? You're really here asking ME if I like this view?"

Roman smirked sitting up part way resting on one elbow, "I asked if you liked the scenery not the view. You're looking at ME right now~" he sing-songed, causing the other to blush.

"Oh shut up you KNOW what I meant!" Virgil cried out shoving the prince to the side as Roman laughed. They were both quiet for a moment just enjoying the serenity of the meadow and company of one another. A few minutes had passed and a breeze blew when Virgil hummed musingly, "I don't think I can ever get tired of coming into your room. I love it here."

Roman looked over having long ago laid back down. He watched as Virgil joined him in laying on his back. He turned back to the sky above the two and hummed an agreement, "I certainly love my room as well. Is it just that you like the rooms shift ability? Because if I'm not mistaken mine isn't the only room which can. Remus' room and The Imagination can as well..." Roman trailed off turning his head to look at the calm, anxious trait laying beside him.

Virgil let out a lighthearted laugh. "No, definitely not. I've been in Remus' room and yours is just... different. The way it feels is... nice."

Roman was still staring at him now quizzically and Virgil turned to look back at him, "How is that? How does my room feel any different than The Imagination or Remus'?"

Virgil looked back at the stars as he pondered the question. "It's... Kinda hard to explain.... See The Imagination doesn't feel like anything really, there unless with someone doing something it feels like any other room so that one's easy. But to describe Remus and your rooms? I'm not entirely sure how..." Virgil glanced at Roman before looking up once more.

Roman was thinking on Virgil's answer in the silence that had proceeded, "Remus' room..." Roman looked over as Virgil began to speak. "Walking into Remus' room is like swimming under water deep in the ocean. You feel a weight suddenly pressing down on you. There's no where to go no way to escape. It's the end, you're running out of air and you know you'll never resurface in time. But you try to anyways knowing it's pointless. Yet you also feel weightless... the way water can make you. Like you mean nothing. Weigh nothing. About to be swept away. It causes you to panic you just. Can't. Breathe."

Virgil's hands tightened into fists as he explained, his chest tightening just at the thought of Remus' room. "I hate it in there. I can never breathe." Roman nodded understanding. When Virgil didn't continue for a moment he thought that was all. That his room held feeling unlike The Imagination, and didn't feel as awful as Remus'.

Virgil's hands relaxed he needed to calm down which was easier here than anywhere else in the mindscape. "Your room..." Roman looked over at Virgil again noting he had more to say, "Your room is the opposite. You feel light... calm.. content and happy."

Roman looked at Virgil with interest, he never really particularly thought so. Virgil continued thoughtfully, "Stepping into your room you suddenly feel like anything is possible. Like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders and you can fly. You feel like you're about to float away and yet..." His hands closed around the grass beneath him, "You feel grounded. Safe and secure. Whatever mess is outside the room is exactly that... outside. While here it can't bother you. It can't do anything to you. It's easier to calm down in here because of that. It's like... the room itself holds your care and compassion. Not to mention your passion. When it's a STORM it goes as all out as you do."

Virgil smirked, "It feels like stepping into your arms. Safe, warm, welcome...." He turned his head to meet the prince's eyes.

Roman was speechless. He was touched Virgil felt safe and welcome with him. In fact as their eyes met he was beyond speechless.

The stars reflected in the eyes of the man who lay beside him. Virgil was still smirking the shadow beneath his eyes a bright purple, he took Roman's breath away, "Coming in here, is like being able to breathe for the first time. You didn't even realize you hadn't been breathing till you come in. Just like with you."

Roman didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to kiss the emo right beside him caution be damned. But he knew better. Virgil was sweet with the words but they were friendly and not to be taken as anything more.

Besides as romantic as this was and as many fantasies of a first kiss ran through his head in that moment. He wouldn't, consent meant everything to Virgil and Roman wanted to be sure if it ever did happen, he was entirely comfortable with it. He wanted verbal confirmation.

This was romantic and would make for a great first kiss with non-verbal consent. But he wanted Virgil to KNOW he understood the man's boundaries. He wanted the first kiss to be asking permission and after either a direct nod of confirmation or a verbal queue. So Virgil knew Roman would never do anything he was uncomfortable with and he would always feel safe.

So he just nodded as they stared at one another in the moonlight. Each longing to lean in and kiss the other. One afraid of what might happen the other wishing for another scenario where he could directly ask without it sounding out of place.

They chose instead to just enjoy the rest of the night, together.

Eventually they must both have fallen asleep as the next thing they remember there was knock on Roman's door.

"Hey Kiddo, I'm about to go make pancakes, usually you're already up by now so I wanted to be sure you were alright. Also... have you seen Virgil?"

Patton's voice rang out breaking the silence. The two were now laying on the hardwood floor of Roman's room. "Yeah we're fine we were just hanging out last night!" Roman called out.

"Alright kiddos, well breakfast will be ready soon see you then," Patton then walked off leaving the two to wake up properly while he finished cooking breakfast.

The two smiled at one another memory of the shared moment fresh in both their heads as they stretched. Virgil leaving to go get changed. And they both went about their day.

[artificialqueens]

Just Below the Surface (Taywhora) - Phryne

A/N: Hello all and welcome to the shark fic, an absolute labor of stupidity, a half-processed thought come to live in the middle of the night. This fic is inspired by @incorrectdruk’s post. Please comment and like if you’ve enjoyed; it means the world! Also a shout out to my wonderful girlfriend, @scarletenvy, who reviewed and supported me throughout this fic. All my love to you. 

Tayce tries to get Aurora out of a design funk by taking her to the aquarium for some inspiration. Aurora has never actually seen a tiger shark in real life—she gets a rude awakening about sharks, and imminent failure.

When her drab little apartment is getting her down, with its peeling pre-war paint and hard water stains; when the rain no longer feels soothing and mesmerizing and sleek; when Aurora finds herself tapping her pencil against her face instead of against her sketch pad, Tayce insists on a change of scenery, even when sheets of rain are splattering against their windows. 

She comes up behind Aurora, spreading her fingers over her shoulder. It’s a risk, knowing that Aurora might startle and throw her head back into Tayce’s nose, but she kisses the crown of her head anyway. “Not going good, is it?” 

Aurora groans, but nonetheless leans into the touch. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” She holds up her sketch pad with nothing more than the model on the page. 

“Reckon you can’t send nudity down the runway, love?” Tayce laughs, digging her thumbs into the base of Aurora’s neck. “Though I’d call off work to model that one for you.” 

Ignoring the quip, but for quirking a brow, Aurora shrugs out of the touch and continues. “I’ve got nothing. No inspiration. No real idea. No thoughts about structures or colors or fabric I’d like to work with.” She slams the pencil down. “I’ve started from every square one I can think of and I’ve still got nothing. I’m supposed to put more of myself into these designs but myself is giving me nothing useful.”

As much as Tayce understood the classic Aurora ‘I’m not amounting to anything, everything I do is dull and boring and meaningless, but, insert forced laugh here, if I give up now I can still be your sugar baby, right?’ speech was coming, and would typically be chased by a reminder that she was only a couple years younger, exceedingly talented, and a retail worker’s salary could never sustain both of their tastes, Tayce decides to cut off the monologue before it even starts. 

“Let’s go.” Tayce says, releasing Aurora’s shoulders and giving a hearty clap. “Grab your slicker, we’re going to the aquarium.” 

Aurora hums before letting the request fully sink in. “Why are we going to see a bunch of scum covered fish?” She pauses, pushes her hair out of her face and tries again. “It’s a lovely idea, but I don’t have much time for a date right now. I need sketches and fabric samples by Monday.” 

But Tayce ignores her, taking the pencil and pad from Aurora’s hands and stuffing them into her purse. She continues absently, “There’s a new tiger shark exhibit that I think—” 

“A fucking tiger shark?” Aurora turns around, resting her arms on the back of her chair, glancing up at Tayce and speaking through that Cheshire Cat smile of hers. “You’re telling me we’ve got a tiger shark now?” 

Tayce feels herself brighten along with her. “It looks rather interesting, world’s greatest predator and all—” 

“Of course it is, it’s a tiger shark. Like, just try to think of something more fierce than that.” Aurora punctuates every word as she hauls her purse into her lap and sweeps the contents of her desk inside, zipping the top even as her fuchsia and forest green pencils stick out from the corners, muttering on about the world’s greatest predator, how it’s an absolute destroyer. 

Tayce takes Aurora’s sudden disinterest in organizing her pencils into their case—by most to least used—as her cue to leave and slip on her boots, already wearing a pleased little smile. 

*

They settle into the tube, Aurora securing her umbrella before sitting down next to Tayce. It’s easy to find a seat, the car less crowded than usual, likely thanks to the weather. Aurora thinks she’d like to stay inside with the rest of London, put the kettle on, and work in the living room where she can see the damp landscape before her and Tayce on the couch beside her, but that wasn’t working before. So here she is, wet blonde hair plastered to her forehead, the thought of seeing the tiger shark still coursing through her, lighting her like neon. 

“Concept: a tiger shark suit,” Aurora poses, just as Tayce holds her hand out for Aurora’s purse. She obliges and continues. “A little shift on the color forecast. Instead of yellow and grey—so bloody industrial, I’m thinking orange and grey. Would need a poly to get that wet-look of vinyl though…” 

Aurora tends to work like this, rambling off her ideas in a whirlwind, usually tearing apart the flat for the nearest pad of paper to get it all down before the idea’s lost forever and she’s left pouting while Tayce is trying to work as well. She’s become used to the smattering of Post-It pads around the house, reminding Aurora to dig the pens out of her pockets before running the wash, cheeky grins as she pulls pencils out from Aurora’s frantically done bun before properly lying down for bed. It’s endearing though, the chaos Aurora works in, the way Tayce’s chaos stabilizes Aurora’s.

So Tayce digs around in the tote until she pulls out a little baggie with her croissant, and Aurora’s notebook, pleased at how she’s taken to the leather bound folio Tayce gifted her for their last anniversary. She hands it over before picking at the almonds atop her croissant, adding, “bitch to make though, isn’t it?” 

Aurora knows what Tayce is referencing and almost shudders at the thought of more vinyl after her Spring/Summer 19’ collection. She spent hours on end cursing the fabric, trying not to tear the tissue between, which she used to help the panels float smoothly under the presser foot as she sewed them. On an industrial machine, no less, which was a bitch to haul up into their flat. It was a disaster to get an invisible zipper into the gown, the damn thing ripping itself out with every try-on. And at the end of it all, she had to sew Tayce into the finale catsuit not fifteen minutes before the show, which meant she had to cut her right out of the garment at the end of the show, with her girlfriend’s reassurance that it was “bloody sexy” and “what’s a little bit of scissoring between two lesbians?” doing little to sage her qualms about ruining hours of work in a snip. 

“Maybe some treated leather.” Aurora nods solemnly and writes notes wildly, not sure she’ll even be able to read anything besides the “SS19” with an angry cross over it when she reviews them later. “Either way, I’m thinking it’s going to be fierce, especially if I can figure out the movement; move like the tiger shark, no? To get that floating through water feeling.” 

Aurora doesn’t expect an answer, seeing that Tayce is occupied with picking almonds off of the pastry. She holds her hand out for them, throwing them back in one shot before taking half the pastry as well. “Why get the one with almonds if you just got to pick them off?” 

“The taste, the flavor,” Tayce says through a bite. “And I know you prefer them, so…” 

Aurora gives her a light shove before pulling her back in by the crook of her arm. “You’re soft,” she taunts, capping her pen and sticking it in her hair. 

“We can’t all be tiger shark ladies, babe.” She gives her pastry a deep bite, raising her brows at Aurora as she does so, if for nothing but to catch a chuckle from her, from what was a miserable day. 

Aurora shakes her head, but nonetheless shifts closer, taking a bite and swallowing quickly. “Stupid, absolutely dense—” 

“—The idiocy, the dullness, dimwittedness, superficiality of it all,” Tayce continues, brushing the crumbs off of her black trench jacket, picking a couple tricky ones out of the red stitching with her nail. Head resting against Aurora’s still damp shoulder, she adds between a cheeky grin, “We gotta finish up; Waterloo’s in just a bit.”  

*

By the time Aurora gets her things gathered and finds the umbrella, Tayce is taking her hand and leading them to the exit. They schlep along to County Hall, Tayce holding the umbrella high above them, Aurora wrapped around Tayce’s arm, bundled up against her, pressing her bag flush against her side. She’s practically buzzing by the time they reach the aquarium, her childish enthusiasm endearing, and Tayce feels it bubble up in her as well. It’s contagious really, Aurora’s joy. It practically travels through the air, filling the room.   

“Here, let me,” Aurora says, fishing for her wallet as they approach the ticket counter. “Since I’m spending our date looking at a shark.”

“Tell me what you really think of me, why don’t you,” Tayce quips back, laying on as much annoyance as she can while still holding a grin, studying the exhibit poster in front of them. 

Aurora takes her card back, muttering as she stuffs it back into its slot. “It’s the world’s fiercest predator, babe. I don’t know what to tell you.” She hands Tayce her ticket before taking her hand, dragging her to the queue. “It’s me in animal form, though I wouldn’t typically pair black and orange, especially for spring.” 

Tayce breathes out a laugh. “Then what am I?”

“Dunno. Maybe a squid.” 

This time, Tayce fully cackles. “A squid?” she asks, and she feels the rest of the queue turn to look at them. She shakes her head playfully as Aurora eyes her long legs and arms before she shrugs, already moving on, focused on a poster next to the queue. 

“Or maybe an absolute hound.” Aurora pokes Tayce’s side before wrapping herself around Tayce’s arm, tugging them forward. 

“Shark fact,” Aurora continues, reading off the line-marker. “Tiger sharks have a near completely undiscerning palate. Some tiger sharks have eaten sting rays, birds, squids, old tires—even other sharks.”

“Sounds like you, A’Whora,” Tayce teases, pulling her in closer, draping an arm around her shoulder. 

Aurora rolls her eyes and pats Tayce’s forearm. “I obviously only go for the finest of squids,” she says, before glancing up and giving a pronounced chomp. 

“Babe, please don’t bite my pussy.” 

Aurora doesn’t get to respond, finding herself right in front of the ticket scanner, who’s shifting around a bit in his uniform, unable to look at the two women in front of him. Not that Tayce or Aurora particularly care about offending some greasy twenty year-old boy at an aquarium with the concept of pussy. He scans their tickets and gives them a nod, so they walk off toward the exhibit, breaking into laughter once they clear the lobby. 

The hallways are lined with fish, of all different colors and sizes, flitting in and out of coral and anemones and grasses. There’s a reception class gathered around a circular tank, trying to find the Nemo, but to no avail. Tayce knows that usually, Aurora would stop by the tank and help the kids out, wholeheartedly join this hunt for the orange and white fish. She’d remind the kids that the little clownfish might be taking a break in his anemone, just like he did in the movie, but that he’ll surely come out, especially if they’re kind and patient. And usually, Tayce would stand back a few feet and watch the scene play out, heart swelling in the process. 

Today, however, Tayce’s heart is going double-time as Aurora takes her hand and pulls her through the crowd. Aurora’s on a mission, weaving in between strollers and other couples, skirting behind tour guides as they explained how algae grows, following the signs pointing toward the tiger shark exhibit with a cutting precision Tayce hadn’t seen since last year’s Arlington sample sale. 

Aurora breaks free when she sees the tank, running up to it and practically smashing herself up against the glass, with no care for the second years or the family of four next to her. 

Tayce catches up. “Love, you don’t gotta press your tits up against the glass, he knows you got them,” she breathes out, wrapping an arm around Aurora’s waist, pulling her back in the process. 

“What the fuck,” Aurora whispers. The look of wonder she once carried is replaced with shock, her face fallen, a dangerous pout forming. “That’s not a tiger shark.” She trains her eyes to the tank and speaks quietly, pointedly, like she’s jabbing the shark with each syllable. “That’s just a shark.”

Tayce gives her a moment, her own lips pursed as she studies Aurora, then the shark, then Aurora again, searching for the disconnect but unable to find it. She was so excited to see it, but in a moment, something had gone exceptionally wrong. 

She gives up, drumming her fingers against Aurora’s waist, before pointing to the sign. “We went to the right place, babe. The sign says it’s Oliver the tiger shark and he’s 17 years old…today.” Tayce turns Aurora toward the sign, but her feet stay firmly planted, her eyes trained on the shark. Nonetheless, she continues. “It’s his birthday, love.”

“Fuck his birthday,” Aurora grumbles, head following the shark as it passes by them. “He doesn’t look like a bloody tiger shark to me. Why’s he gray? Where’s the stripes?”  

“Aww, he’s old. That’s why he doesn’t have any stripes.”

Aurora shakes her head like Tayce doesn’t get it, and frankly, she doesn’t. As far as Tayce sees, it’s a perfectly good shark, swimming about, living his life, being as inspirational as any shark can be. But Aurora’s miffed, her mood as clouded and dreary as the weather outside. 

She hikes her purse up her shoulder and leans forward again, her nose and two fists pressed right against the glass. “You’re a filthy liar, Oliver.” 

“Babe, it’s a shark—”

“I’ll still fight an old bastard like you. You’ll pay for your lies.” 

Tayce takes her by the shoulders and spins her around, marching them out of the exhibit. “Ok, you can’t fight a shark so it’s time to leave him alone. Time to find some other inspiration in the…” Tayce looks up at the next exhibit’s sign as they walk. “…sea spiders.” She shakes her head. “Christ.” 

As they walk away, Aurora softens, though she’s still dreary and listless. The spiders, of course, aren’t helping—they’re disgusting little heathens, what with their spindling legs and radioactive green backlight. Even Tayce has to admit that. But as she pulls Aurora in for pictures, she finds her limply pressed against her side, disinterested in the pursuit, even though in one of the pictures, it looks like the spider’s balanced on Aurora just so, like it’s woven itself into her waves, made a nest atop her head. Tayce quickly sets this as a new background; Aurora only gives a hum in response. 

They continue with the deep sea creatures, with their dark tanks and neon blue tint, stopping at the octopus and its inky purple light, all spread out against the wall of its tank, its orange tentacles sticking and peeling periodically. Tayce again insists on a picture, “for memory’s sake, even though he looks like a bollock, all pruned from the bath.” Reluctantly, Aurora lets out a breathy laugh and gives in. Tayce counts this as a win, even though her pouting resumes once they move on.

At the next tank, Tayce is amused by the little round fish that dips in and out of its hole, its mouth forming an “O” as they approach it. Aurora cracks a smile, but for a moment, when Tayce pulls her in by the shoulder and makes the same face, jaw slack and nude-painted lips rounded like the fish’s. Aurora claims she’s not going to kiss “fish lips over here,” and yet she does, giving Tayce a peck. Tayce snaps a picture of her now smiling girlfriend, the red light from deep within the fish’s hole haloing her. 

Aurora needs a bit less prodding in the stingray exhibit, sticking her hand in the open tank as soon as she’s given the go-ahead. “He’s a velvet pancake,” Aurora comments, petting the flat beast, its mouth flap opening and closing as it moves through the tank. Tayce reaches for Aurora’s folio prematurely. 

“Velvet is super 2018. I’m bored of it,” Aurora explains, drying her hands before taking Tayce’s. “Thank you though.” She says it quietly, but Tayce knows she’s appreciative from the way she tightens her grip, by the way her thumb lays on top of Tayce’s as they walk into the next exhibit.  

“Look at all these fucking sharks.” Tayce glances upward, dragging Aurora’s hand with her as she points, full of awe, glued to the shark gliding above her, cutting through the water seamlessly. “Look at them go. Absolute beasts they are.” 

Aurora sees it’s clearly Tayce’s turn to be struck with wonder, and at the sharks no less. So, she tries to wipe the pout off of her face, smooth out her furrow, and take in the moment. Take in Tayce, arms spread before her. How the blue light reflects off of her cheekbones. Her still rain-slick hair and jacket. And the sharks passing above her are beautiful, with their milky white bellies and steel body, their rounded faces and sharp fins. There has to be something inspiring about them, she’s sure. Maybe in the shapes, or the colors? She could play with the sharp and round structure, surely. Or work in grayscale. Imitate the leather-y touch of their skin. She rests against the wall, pulling out her folio, clicking her pen aimlessly. 

Tayce continues with the sharks, pointing at them one by one, asking each, “let’s be having you? And you? And you?” with a silly point. She takes pictures with a few.

But when Tayce returns, suggesting they head out and have lunch while the weather’s clear, Aurora finds her paper blank yet again, more and more sure that she has nothing left to give. 

*

The cafe Tayce picks out is splendid and quaint, though Aurora wouldn’t expect anything less. The server wipes down their seats and the metal table before they take a seat, hands over the menus, and gives them a moment to look them over. Aurora doesn’t even bother looking, knowing she’s too  upset to eat much at all, instead laying her head against the cool metal, trying to focus. Or, rather, pull her focus away from her imminent failure and toward Tayce’s new story in the saga about the lady who orders all these clothes online, and every single week, comes into the store, three shipping bags in hand, demanding that everything be returned. 

“They’re not even nice clothes.” Tayce adds, dipping a chip.  “We sell some nice shit, but she keeps buying garbage and complaining that it’s garbage.” 

Aurora hums, ripping at the bits of lettuce hanging out of her sandwich. 

“So she comes on in, throws her shipping bag onto the counter, whips out this polyester blouse, and sticks her hand through it and starts ranting on about how see-through the top is.” Tayce sticks her hand up, wiggling her fingers around. 

“She shouldn’t have bothered with a polyester Zara shirt to begin with.” 

“Shouldn’t have bothered buying a top labeled “sheer” to begin with,” Tayce threw back. “I thought she’d stop her nonsense after I took her around the store, pointing out everything that was good, would look good on her, would fit her enviable work-life-balance, but she still comes back, every Thursday with more shit.” Tayce takes the now ketchup-soggy chip out of the ramekin and sticks it in her mouth. “Even if we didn’t go to the aquarium, I would have called out today. Like I just couldn’t look at those shirts anymore without frying my mind.” 

“Couldn’t have that, could we?” Aurora tries at a laugh, finding it coming up faint. 

Tayce tilts her head, analyzing the situation in front of her. She opens her mouth, like she’s got something to say, before stealing one of Aurora’s chips. 

Pointing the chip at Aurora, she doesn’t ask if Aurora’s okay, or if she’s still disappointed by the aquarium, or if she’s still racking her brain for a sliver of a design idea. Instead, she asks “Well, Whora, what did you think a tiger shark was?” 

Tayce always cuts down to the bone, even when she’s not meaning to. 

Aurora throws her head into her hands, speaking through her fingers. “Fuck if I know, something fantastic and inspiring and shiny and fierce and—”

“Orange?” Tayce laughs before popping the chip into her mouth. 

“Fuck off,” Aurora mutters, raking her fingers through her hair. “I thought it’d all just hit me, babe, and now I’ve got no idea what to do.” 

Aurora looks up, blinking rapidly. Her nose starts feeling peppery, and she knows soon her face will become red, blotchy, and streaked with tears. 

But Tayce reaches over and takes her hand between both of hers. Aurora dares a glance at Tayce, before resting her gaze on their hands. 

“Look, I know you’re not going to tell yourself this, but you’re brilliant and talented, and your brain is, like,  dancing so fast, even when your feet aren’t moving.” She gives Aurora’s hand a squeeze. “You’ve got so many ideas up there, and I’m sure you’ll have the work to show for it soon. And those ideas are surely better than a tiger shark pantsuit, promise.” 

Wiping a stray tear, Aurora breaks into a chuckle. “It was like, my dumbest idea.” 

“Not your dumbest, no.” Tayce says. “But a dumb one.”

*

When they get home, Tayce all about shoves Aurora into her office, throws a can of Fanta in behind her, and tells her to look through the pictures from today, get inspired by nature, sort it out, and come back when she’s got a design. 

“Can I at least get a kiss for good luck?”  Aurora shouts through the door.

“How about one for good work?” Tayce quips. And before Aurora can fire back, she hears the faint sounds of the Mortal Kombat theme through the crack in the door, and thinks better of disturbing Tayce when she’s in the zone, getting out the stress of Polyester Blouse Lady on Johnny Cage. 

So, Aurora picks the Fanta off of the floor, sets it on her desk to rest, and settles into her chair. She moves around in her seat, trying at least a dozen positions before taking a deep breath, flipping to a fresh page. 

She pulls out her phone, scrolling through the pictures Tayce sent her today. There’s a few of the two of them on the tube, Tayce resting on Aurora’s shoulder. Anyone who didn’t know Tayce better would think she looked ready for a nap, with her closed eyes and relaxed lips, but Tayce wasn’t one to rest in the middle of an adventure. 

There’s another of Aurora, taken from behind, stood in line, bouncing on her heels, a neon wave floating above her head, as though she were under the water herself.  

There’s Aurora, plastered against the tiger shark tank, her face blue tinted by the water and the lights in the tank, her gaze steely as she watches that shark—who is an arsehole, she might add. 

And then the next series of pictures—the two of them again. Painted in neon green, a sea spider nesting in Aurora’s hair. Then in purple, shocking purple, the octopus behind them looking ready to strangle them both, it’s tentacles plinking off of the glass like pennies into a well. Then they’re kissing in front of the little fish that kept opening and shutting its mouth, forming a perfect “o,” bathing them in a bloody red tint. She’s not sure how, but Tayce managed to miss all of the miserable faces Aurora knew she had on throughout the aquarium. But when she thinks a bit deeper, she’s not sure when she’s ever looked truly miserable around Tayce. 

She nearly puts her phone down when she comes across the next picture. She couldn’t even remember the moment; Tayce must have asked someone else to take it. 

It’s Tayce, resting against the far wall of the shark exhibit—the tunnel-style tank, with the sharks swimming all around them—glancing off to the side with a lazy grin, eyes vigilant, wild. And the neon blue all around her, bouncing off the shine of her slicker, hitting her cheekbones and her collarbones just-so, filtering through her hair. 

Tayce cackles from the other room, the metallic clash of swords following. 

Absolutely radiant. Aurora chews at her pencil, studying the picture further, the way the light bounces off of the wet jacket…

And Aurora’s scribbling, the model she sketches nothing more than a handful of lines, led by memory, as she’s working desperately to draft the design. The pencil sweeps, once, twice, three times, as she sees the fabric floating. But it’s floating over something tight, sleek, but still soft and shiny. And there has to be a shimmering quality to it, or course. It’s not opaque either, no, much more sheer. She’s going to have to work with chiffon, damn it to bits, but it’ll give her the look she’s after, the wet shine she needs. And in a moment’s time, she’s flipped over to another page for another design, one that drapes lightly. She glances once more at the picture, before following the tempo of her pencil, this time switching it out for a light blue. 

In a blink, she’s filled four pages. 

So she grabs her folio and runs out into the living room, knowing from the sound of the TV that Tayce is still there, and still ripping Polyester Shirt Lady a new one, mentally. 

“I’m here for my kiss,” Aurora announces smuggly, throwing her folio into Tayce’s lap. 

She’s smart enough to pause the game right as Aurora makes her presence known, surely anticipating her dramatics after all this time. 

Tayce flips it open, staring Aurora down like she’s about to rip her designs apart, though she knows Tayce would never, or really, wouldn’t have the reason to do so. It’s that serious look Tayce has, though Aurora knows it only shows up because she’s serious about Aurora’s designs. “And I’m here for some good fashion, love.” 

Aurora falls beside her on the couch, pulling her legs up on the seat and curling in against Tayce. She’s warm. It’s comforting. 

“So I’ve got this one, like the octopus tank. And it’s got this iridescent purple that just flows off of the pantsuit, like it flows right off of it,” Aurora explains, leaning in further, pointing out the details. “I’m thinking Bim for this one.” 

“I can definitely see that. Definitely. With all that movement, ugh.” Tayce runs a finger over the design, outlining where the fabric would trail off steaming behind the model, like the wind’s carrying it, like it’s suspended in mid-air.

“Okay flip,” Aurora instructs, pressing her cheek against Tayce’s arm. Aurora continues, answering questions about fabric, structures underneath the garnments, styling. Tayce slips the pencil out of Aurora’s hand at some point, jotting down answers as she rambles on and on, far too excited to manage writing it on her own. So Tayce scribbles down her directive to add wirey jewelry around the wrists, heels with lacings up the calf, everything looking like it’s floating just below the surface. At some point, the Xbox powers off, until all that’s lighting the room is the standby logo. 

Tayce reaches over the couch, turning the lamp on. 

“So, which one are you thinking of for me?” Tayce pokes at Aurora’s side, her voice trailing into a whine. 

Aurora takes back her book, flipping through the pages aimlessly. “Oh, you know, the first one. From this morning…” 

“You didn’t even have—”

“…Absolute nudity.” Aurora curls in closer, a devious smile forming. “Or maybe full vinyl?”

“I thought no more after last time?” Tayce begins flipping through the book. “I guess I’ll just have to find it on my own, now won’t I?”

“Gimmie that,” Aurora takes it from her hands and flips to the page easily, holding the design close against her chest. “And you look good in the vinyl, is all I’m saying.” 

She plops it down in Tayce’s lap. “You’re obviously getting the finale gown, moron.”

Tayce scans over the page, over and over, tracing along the outline with her finger, as though she can feel the slip of the iridescent blue chifon layered over black organza, how it gathers at one hip, falling down in crashing waves, with the other side draped cleanly, softly. 

“It’s supposed to be murky, like you’re coming out of the depths of the ocean where all the weird spindly things live, that have, like five eyes and spikes and stuff.” Aurora bristles for a moment. “At least that’s what I was thinking. But really, you could wear any of them if you wanted, it’s all inspired by you,” she says, soft, feather-light, like she’s letting the words float on down from the surface. 

They continue on in silence, Aurora watching as Tayce scans over the design, mouth agape. Tayce swallows and mutters, “lil ol’ me, the finale?” She turns to Aurora. “It’s just gorgeous. So, absolutely gorgeous.” 

And Aurora smiles, closing her eyes, breathing in the moment, the relief, the momentum of the collection. She places the folio on the coffee table and sets her sights on Tayce. 

“So, did I earn my kiss?” 

Tayce rolls her eyes playfully. “If you insist,” she says, not leaving Aurora much time to think before pulling her in closer, thumb stroking along her cheek. Their lips meet comfortably, knowingly, in a way that would seem commonplace if not for love. 

They break apart, Aurora resting in the crook of Tayce’s neck. 

“You did an amazing job, love,” Tayce says, quietly this time, as though the moment deserves quiet. And the two hold the silence, open palmed, soaking in the golden, still light of the lamp.   

*

“Oi, you!” Aurora taps on the glass, sure she’s the subject of a few wandering eyes, and the reason why the aquarium security tests the receiver of their walkie a few times. But she doesn’t care. She has some unfinished business, business that’s been keeping her up at night, making her toss and turn right into Tayce’s spread-out, sleeping form, ever since she began production on her collection. 

So she’s returned to Oliver the tiger shark. This time, she’s bearing gifts. 

Aurora points at the shark as it passes, hoping in vain it’ll stop for her, just as she’s stopped for him. She tries again, snapping at him as he passes by once more, before giving up, feeling lucky Tayce wasn’t around to mock her attempts. Aurora continues on regardless. 

“We’ve had our differences, but I must thank you for the inspiration…” Aurora trails off, spotting the shark stopped on the other side of the tank. She scurries over, hoping she can get a good view of him, maybe take a reprieve from looking like a lunatic, talking to nothing. 

“But thank you, Oliver the shark,” she says to him, before he swims off again, practically to the spot Aurora was just standing. 

She huffs and hauls herself back to the other side of the tank. 

“You’re a right dick, you are.” Aurora breathes in deeply before digging into her bag, pulling out her phone, pressing it against the tank, as though he’ll look at the picture and have any idea who she is. “It was really her, my girlfriend here who did the heavy lifting, and she got more than a thank you for it all.” 

Aurora bites at her lip a bit, locking her phone, muttering, “sex, obviously, but you don’t get it, you’re a dumb, heterosexual shark, so…” into her purse as she plops her phone in. 

“But I figured giving you some thanks would earn me back some ocean karma points—” The shark swims to the back of the tank, facing entirely away from Aurora, and she has to remind herself not to stomp like a petulant child. 

She settles for muttering a “fucks sake” under her breath. 

“Anyway,” she hikes up her purse. “Have a good one, Oliver the tiger shark.” 

She gives a half-hearted wave before walking away, dividing to give that funny, little, perpetually surprised fish a visit, hoping he’ll appreciate her company more. 

[imagine-loki]

The sniffles

TITLE: The sniffles CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: ONE SHOT AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her.

+

Imagine that against everything you both thought possible, Loki gets the flu. 

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: It’s getting to be chilly season, so the flu is lurking about. Get your flu shots! Be careful! Socially distance! Language, maybe? Mostly fluff. Mentions of illness? (Do people tag that?) Not beta’d or edited, really–probs lots of typos.

SUMMARY: Loki gets sick, though he insists it’s just allergies. Charlie puts on her bossy pants and shows Loki she’s a bamf. Loki is a Nervous Nelly.

X

Loki had nearly frowned himself into an alternate dimension when it first happened–a simple sneeze. He had been sorting through some paperwork that Stark had asked him to complete, a mindless task meant to keep him occupied under the guise of his rehabilitation. With a shrug, Loki aired out the papers, assuming dust had tickled his nose for the briefest of moments, but thought nothing more of it.

Two years into his exile to Midgard and working under the tech guru, Loki had pretty much worked off his sentence in Tony’s eyes. According to anyone with half a brain, depriving Loki of his magic, the major condition of his exile, was punishment enough for the Prince (Loki would never admit that the act of cleaning a whole kitchen to perfection on his hands and knees was methodical and soothing, but it was one of the many joys of his near mortal existence). Still, it turned out that Stark was a bleeding heart and could recognize the tell-tale signs of a son who never got proper validation from their father (or enough hugs). It could have also been the fact that the former hissing-serpent-of-an-Asgardian all but turned into a golden retriever after he fell in love. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that Stark was deathly afraid of the five-foot-nothing woman Loki now shared an apartment with, and who would most definitely cause him bodily harm for overworking her boyfriend.

All in all, within the constraints of this supposed punishment, everything was wonderful.

Then, Loki sneezed again.

And continued to do so.

But, of course, he wasn’t ill.

Achoo!

Charlie started, letting out a half-strangled shriek that soon turned into a groan as objects clattered on her desk. Her jaw clenched together so tightly, she thought her teeth would crack.

Now, Charlie wasn’t irritated that her dork alien of a boyfriend was sneezing in her presence while she was trying to get work done. No, she was irritated because she had sent him to bed (again, for the sixth time) twenty minutes ago when his fever and chills started to turn him into an unintelligible, hallucinating mess. She thought she had been quite clear in her order for him to get some rest. After all, it had been three days since Loki first sneezed, and though he had brushed it off as a bad case of seasonal allergies, his denial was starting to get ridiculous, not to mention, harmful.

Turns out thousand year old demigods-turned-mortal are no better at following orders than any other man on the planet. In fact, Charlie was pretty sure he was being more of a brat than any other mortal… not that she’d ever tell him.

Pushing away her keyboard, she stood away from the desk, taking a second to orient herself and stare in the general direction she had heard the sneeze come from.

She schooled her facial expression into what she hoped was a no-nonsense expression. “Go. Back. To. Bed.”

Loki grumbled, his voice particularly hoarse and gravelly with an added nasally quality from his blocked passages. “It’s allergies and I have things to do,” he retorted stubbornly, ignoring the fact that his whole world seemed to tilt ever-so-slightly with each step he took.

“Allergies, my ass. Loki Odinson, you have the flu. You belong back in bed. Don’t make me be the bad guy here.”

He let out a half-hearted snort, pretending that he did not at all feel the need to double over and repeat whatever little breakfast he was able to get down his gullet that morning. “I am not sick. I haven’t been sick in four centuries. Your sorry Midgardian microbes cannot infect me.”

“Yeah, when you had your full powers. Now, though–”

“I’m fine-d.”

It was a small, momentary miracle that Charlie wasn’t able to see the way he swayed on a spot, holding his head pathetically against the sudden bout of vertigo that assaulted him. At least he thought she couldn’t. Though Loki could not explain the fact that her hand grasped him by an elbow a moment later with what appeared to be no difficulty. Clearly he was off his game, and he didn’t even bother complaining when Charlie half-dragged him all the way to the sofa and forced him to sit.

He couldn’t help but smile at the brows knitted together in worry or the lower lip being chewed within an inch of its soft, supple life. The extreme gentleness and care she took in smoothing back his hair and pressing the back of her hand to his forehead made his stomach twist in the most pleasant way. This was the best antidote, he supposed, just watching her fuss over his shivering body. Loki certainly wasn’t used to being taken care of in this manner. It felt almost wrong to succumb to the desire of slumping into the pillows and letting her dote on him.

“I love you,” slipped from his lips before he was even aware that his brain had attempted to convey the message.

Charlie beamed in response, cheeks turning warm copper with a blush. Her fingers trailed down the sides of his face to cup his cheeks. “I love you, too, sweets, but if you don’t stay still and rest, I will put on Stark’s suit and make you.”

Loki smirked, twining one of her curls around his finger and letting it bounce back with a gentle tug. “Have I told you how attractive I find you when you get all bossy?”

“Only every single second this week, Lo.”

“Well, I firmly believe in truth-telling, dove,” he added, voice betraying the exhaustion that seeped into his bones. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the gentle circles she drew around his temples were some sort of ancient magic. “I’m late for work,” he protested, making an effort to sit back up. He would admit that they way Charlie shoved him back onto the cushions was a little distracting for two entirely different reasons: one, he was weak enough that Charlie could push him down like it was nothing; and, two… it was sort of… sexy. He would take them both to his grave.

“I called Tony and told him you were sick.”

Loki frowned. “What did he say?”

“He asked FRIDAY to queue up ”Ding dong! The witch is dead“,” she joked, lips tugging up in a smirk. “He said to take the week off. No one needs your Asgardian super bugs rolling around the Tower.” Charlie’s lips pressed against his forehead, followed immediately by a sigh. “You’re burning up again, Loki.”

“Everything hurts,” he conceded in a small voice, feeling like a failure when the concern etched in her features deepened further.

Charlie took in the complaint with a resolute nod.

“OK. I’ll go to the pharmacy down the street for some medicine and some electrolytes. You get some rest.” She patted his cheek and made to stand when Loki’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

“I’ll come with you.” He assured, at once, hoping the edge of nervousness wasn’t obvious in his voice.

“Nice try, super spreader.” Her fingers peeled his, dexterously. “No. Get some rest. I’ll be back in twenty.”

“But–”

“I promise you I will be fine, Loki. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

Loki was still reluctant as he watched her cool and confident expression. He shifted awkwardly. He knew that Charlie was entirely capable of any task and she had adapted well to the technology available to her as a non-seeing person, but… Norns, he was just a pathetic mess when it came to her. The thought of anything happening to her… “I know, but–”

“You worry. I understand, but this is important, Loki. You’re important and you’re sick and you need me to go get you medicine.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against her hand for a long moment before finding the courage to speak. “Just… be careful, alright? Maximum alertness, yeah?”

“I promise,” she assured in a whisper, leaning in to kiss his crown. “Please get some rest until I get back.” Her fingers were back to scratching his scalp, combing through his shaggy locks until he could no longer fight against the heaviness of sleep. He uttered half a protest before drifting off, leaving Charlie to cover him up with the spare blanket she kept on the sofa and tucking him in.

Charlie would not say that she was nervous about going out without Loki, but she was certainly not not nervous. She wrapped herself up warm to ward off the autumn chill and triple checked her belongings: keys, phone, card wallet, cane. Her head turned over her shoulder on instinct, as if attempting to spare a glance at Loki sleeping on the couch, before she closed the door behind her.

Loki awoke with a start what felt like an eternity later. His hair was sticking out in all directions and his clothes felt like they were pasted to his body with sweat. He was no longer on the couch, but in bed, and he felt… marginally better. Still, his heart was thumping loudly against his ribcage with a sense of uneasiness.

Charlie.

Where was Charlie?

“Oh, gods, please no.” It was too still. Too quiet. “CHARLIE!?” He called frantically, kicking the covers off of himself, despite the fact that his head disliked his sudden change in momentum. He grit his teeth against the nausea that rose immediately after. He needed to get out of bed and–

“Oh, you’re up!” Charlie chirped happily from the doorway.

His head snapped toward her voice to find her standing with a tray and very carefully balancing a bowl of soup, a sports drink and a bottle of water atop it. The grace with which she was managing to balance the liquids over the wooden serving tray was uncharacteristic–Charlie had never been particularly poised due to her impatience and going blind had not helped matters. After a minute, she placed the tray beside him on the bed and managed to sit down without any major spillage. Loki beamed at the satisfied look on her face and the anxiously flitting and hovering gaze she got when she was particularly excited.

“You’re back,” he breathed softly, fingertips trailing over the hand resting closest to him.

“I was only gone for fifteen minutes.” Charlie giggled. “Do you not remember taking your medicine and coming to bed?”

Loki shook his head before remembering his replies had to be aloud. “Er… no. No, I don’t.”

“You were pretty out of it,” she admitted, not thinking anything of it. “We had a lot of extra veggies, so I made you soup.”

He swallowed at the lump in his throat to no avail as he watched the perfectly cubed pieces of vegetables floating in a golden broth. He could practically feel her efforts radiating off the bowl with every plume of steam that rose enticingly. “You cooked?” His voice caught slightly.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me if it’s no good. It took me forever to chop things, so I might actually cry,” she replied, only half serious.

He picked up the bowl and tentatively sipped at the broth, letting out an involuntary moan when the rich taste flooded his taste buds. “Charlie, it… it’s perfect. It’s delicious.” The satisfied grin she gave in response made the remainder of his pain float away like dandelion fluff. He sipped some more before letting out a contented sigh as his bones warmed. “You are a wonder of wonders, Charlotte Camden.”

Charlie snorted. “I went to the pharmacy and managed not to burn down the apartment. I am middling, at best.”

“Say what you want, but I am proud of you,” he whispered, enjoying the blush on her cheeks as he slurped down the rest of his soup.

He knew she was secretly pleased with the praise, even if she didn’t admit it. Loki was aware that he worried all too much about giving her extra independence with all the what-ifs that popped up in his head. She was always so eager to challenge herself and had proven time and again she was capable of so much more than what she did on a daily basis. Loki was still in her life because she desired it, not because she needed anything from him.

For goodness’ sake, here she was, minding him.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Charlie. I feel restored, already.”

“Finally, he admits illness!” She snickered under her breath while Loki grumbled. “Of course, Loki. It is my distinct pleasure.” She leaned in just enough to prompt Loki to proffer his cheek, skin warm from the flush that could only half be attributed to the warmth of the broth. Her fingers trailed over his scalp, making him shudder from head to toe. “Drink all your fluids and back to bed,” she ordered gently before disappearing back out the bedroom door.

Loki wasn’t used to being taken care of like this but… he could get used to it.