#and oh look how convenient one was just laying around in the woods

[notspiders]

Liminal Spaces w/ 141

A thought I made with a few friends who fleshed it out more:

Liminal spaces! But you know, 141 are the monsters :P Now, the rule is that as long as you're compliant and not trying to escape, your liminal space is going to be heaven. They'll make sure of that to ensure you don't associate anything negative to their space. Can't have that, hmm?

Each man has their own domain. :)

Price - Suburbia:

Quiet, infinite neighborhood, everything looks the same. There's people but they all seem to act exactly like you'd imagine Stock Images people would act.

You can't really talk with them either. Strange how when you approach one of them, they just disappear in a blink of an eye.

Price would prefer if you act as his loving partner :)

The fridge is always stocked! Beds are warm and cozy. The television plays anything you want.

You also get WIFI. Don't bother messaging anyone (that isn't your husband.)

You can try to 'exit' the neighborhood. There's a car even! You can drive in it. There's unlimited amount of fuel. Too bad the road never seems to end and the houses are still there...

Not to worry. You can exit out of the car and enter any one of the houses. Price is always waiting :)

Got that all out of your system, hm?

Gaz - Shopping Mall:

Shopping mall has everything and anything.

Movie theaters, designer clothes, outlets, cafeterias, anything you want- it's there! Have fun exploring :)

It's just you though. No one else is in this mall.

Gaz's voice will always guide you over the speakers, should you ever get lost.

Or, your favorite music always plays over the speakers. You can ask Gaz to skip any song or play whatever you want at any moment of time.

Arcades, cafes, even a pet shop! Gaz will be happy to join you if you wish for company :)

The doors to the exits don't budge open. Stop trying.

There's an Internet cafe and library in this mall. Anything you want to read, watch, listen- it's all there. Still can't talk with anyone... Shame.

But you have Kyle. Who else do you want?

Soap - the Woods:

The Firewatch tower in the endless, dense woods.

It's pretty cozy.

Food is always stocked in the fridge. Plenty of water too. If you want something fresh, just ask! Soap is happy to hunt for you :)

You can watch sunsets and sunrises with him. He loves it :)

No WIFI here unfortunately, but, really- say goodbye to your electronic devices and embrace nature. It's good for you.

If you want to explore the woods, always have Soap beside you. He'll guide you around. Maybe you might find a small, beautiful clearing beside a lake. It's a perfect campsite. Could go swimming, fishing, canoeing...

Don't worry. No harmful bugs or creepy crawlies you dislike.

Oh? You want to go rock-climbing? Why how convenient that there's this cliff right beside us. With harnesses and such attached to the wall! And would you look at that, it's very easy to climb.

Plenty of things to do.

Starwatching. :)

As long as you're with him, no harmful monsters are going to bother you two.

Never go alone.

Ghost - the Beach

It's... a lovely beach.

If it weren't so foggy in most days.

But that's what you have Ghost for. He's your personal heater. :)

Seriously it gets freezing at night and the small shack by the ocean isn't really keeping the cold out.

Don't you worry. Sand won't get everywhere. And it's smooth. Calm your tits, Anakin.

Some days, when the Sun is out, the sand is just the perfect warm bed for you to lay down and just... sunbathe.

You can tan with Ghost to get that impeccable bronze. Don't worry, you won't get sunburnt. Of course... could always ask Ghost to lather sunscreen on you. He'll be happy to help you with that :)

The water can vary in temperature- from freezing cold to a nice sunny warm.

You can swim and wade in it. And you can try to go deeper but isn't that strange? The depth isn't changing and you just don't seem to be leaving the shore too much.

The currents do get stronger when you keep on trying. Don't bother, you're never getting past it.

Plenty of food and water in that shack. And spare clothes, towels...

WIFI? Babe, this is the beach. You don't need it. You have Ghost.

Bonus:

Credits to @angelcqre for this line:

something about the boys all going to Gaz’s domain at random points to pick up shit they don’t have in their own domains [...]

Yes.

Yes they would. They absolutely would.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

"What about this one?"

Ed tucked his smile against Stede's bare shoulder as he felt Stede's fingers circle around his wrist, and he propped himself up properly, folding his hand beneath his chin. The scar on the side of his wrist was a skinny, fishhook-shaped thing, faded with age. "Must've been about...I dunno, nineteen, maybe? Tried to impress some guy by spinning my knife around my finger and it slipped."

Stede, encouraged by Ed's huff and fond eyeroll at his teenage antics, laughed, the arm around Ed's shoulders pressing down into the small of his back.

This was a game they played, sometimes. Stede picked the smaller scars, most of the time, the ones without too much baggage. He'd never asked about the ugly knotted scar above Ed's hip, or the nasty twisted thing that pushed his kneecap sideways, or the faded X carved over Ed's heart, and definitely not the even, uniform scars on his thighs that had been covered up with shaky tattoos of flowers and hearts and sharks.

There were lots of scars that weren't those, and Ed didn't mind most of them. Past foolishness, past bravery. Stede's favorite scars were the cluster of puncture scars on Ed's tummy and the long, swooping scar under his chest, because they were proof of living, of outsmarting the world. He liked to lick the scar under Ed's chest during intimate moments to make him whimper, knew just how to rest his hand on that sensitive patch of tummy to make Ed gasp.

And, tonight, Ed was halfway towards taking this little game somewhere. He had a very convenient scar from his twenties (didn't fully clear the railing during yardies and landed on a deeply unfortunate section of wood) right along the crease of his hip that Stede could explore -

Stede's voice turned thoughtful, then, his fingers trailing over Ed's shoulder blades. "Don't tell me if you don't want to. But what about...these?"

Ed practically bit his tongue. Those things were faded to hell, only really visible along his shoulders though they'd once stretched down to the small of his back. They were from the first and only time he'd ever gotten flogged.

Ed pushed himself up, resting fully on top of Stede's chest, now, his arms crossed under his chin. "So," he started. "I don't think I'd turned fifteen yet."

"Oh, Ed," Stede whispered, his face crinkling with sympathy.

Yeah, Ed thought, he wanted to get this one out. Pretty often, Stede's reactions to the rough ones felt like cleaning an old wound.

See, if his plan for that day had worked, he probably would've described it as his first fuckery. Because he meant to get caught stealing extra food, and he'd had a plan that seemed perfect.

He'd been sailing on ol' Hornigold's crew for maybe three months. And one of the other cabin boys looked out for the fresh ones. He was a couple years older than Ed, always shared the food he stole and never got caught. Ed had had the biggest crush of his young life on Felix.

Now, Jack had told him one night that floggings weren't shit. Jack was about Ed's age, but he'd been around longer, so Ed had believed him. Jack had said there was nothing to it, you just had to bite your tongue a bit and it'd be over before you knew it.

Ed should've known something was up when he'd winked at Jack and Felix over his shoulder as he was marched to the mast and they'd looked scared out of their heads. He'd stuck his tongue out at them through his smile, cheerfully admitted to his charges, imagining laying in Felix's arms that night as Felix gently patched him up -

The first strike took the breath out of Ed's lungs. He'd screamed himself hoarse by the time it was finally, finally over, laid there on the deck sobbing for much longer as Jack and Felix tried to stand him up.

The worst part was how the older guys laughed, even the ones Ed had thought were pretty cool just that morning. Ed would never look at anyone the same again, for as long as he lived.

He had wound up in Felix's arms that night, but he'd still been too busy crying his eyes out to really appreciate it.

"Pretty fucked up," Ed concluded. Stede's face was all crumpled up, his lip wobbling, and Ed gently cupped his face in his hands. "I'm alright, babe, c'mon. I'm right here."

Stede's voice was steady enough. "Are we sure everyone who laughed at you is already dead?"

"Yeah," Ed snorted, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of Stede's nose. "Stede, man, really, it was so long ago -"

"That's the worst part," Stede said. "You were fourteen, Ed! You deserved so, so much better."

Ed paused.

Stede met his eyes, taking Ed's hand and holding it tight between both of his. "You deserved so much better," he said firmly. "You are precious, Ed, and you deserve to be treated like it."

Maybe Ed couldn't fully believe that, not all the way, not just yet. But he wrapped his arms around Stede, tucking himself in sound and safe. "You treat me like I'm precious."

Stede's hand landed on his shoulders, rubbing gently, like he was trying to soothe the pain of decades-old wounds. "Making up for lots of lost time."

[dickinfectionbez]

Francesca was desperate.

She had just moved to her new apartment, one that she conveniently wasn't told was unfurnished until she got her keys. It was easy enough to sleep on the floor or on the sofa of a friend but you couldn't bring anyone back. So many one night stands she had avoided because they didn't want her staying over and she couldn't bring them back to hers.

So she did what any respectable person would. She went on tinder. Francesca's plan was simple. Score enough dates to get her till payday, sleep around with said dates (or on Marzia's sofa) until she was paid so she could buy a bed.

Easy enough.

Well, it was easier said than done.

Her first date was a complete bust. The guy, Lewis, was cool but the way he flinched when seeing her eat a bit of raw onion was interesting to say the least. He spent most of the date pretending to post pictures of their food as his dog. Her second date was a different sort of weird but, Jorgelina, was better dinner company. However, when the pair got to Jorgelina's bedroom, Francesca was met with two twin beds. Jorgelina's roommate, Alexis, was fast asleep in one of them and Francesca watched her date climb in to the bed.

Then came Elena.

She was smart, gorgeous and most of her pictures on tinder were of her in a sports bra working with power tools. Francesca looked at the picture of Elena holding a power saw one too many times. She told Marzia that she was admiring the wood carving.

There was no wood carving.

They talked for a while, Francesca revealing her 10-step plan to get a bed. The revelation got a laugh out of Elena and Francesca felt her head spin when she played the voice note. Elena proposed their first meeting should be after Francesca got paid. Payday came quickly, and with it came her date with Elena. It was a simple date, a quick trip to IKEA. They met up in the carpark, Francesca grateful she was sitting down in the drivers seat of the rented pickup truck. She could feel her knees turning to jelly as she watched Elena in a white tank top and green cargo trousers walk across the carpark to her. Her graphic t-shirt and shorts suddenly felt shabby.

They walked in, a sudden rush of adrenaline helping Francesca put her arm around Elena's waist. They stumbled into the bedroom section of IKEA, each separate room on display. "Right." Elena said clapping her hands together, "lets start looking." Francesca nodded, unwillingly pulling away from her. The first display room was themed towards a couple. Francesca sat on the bed, bouncing slightly as Elena stood with her hands on her hips. "Testing the sex capability huh?" Francesca sputtered as she laughed, Elena doubling over in laughter as well.

They moved onto the next room, the bed much smaller. Francesca sat down, not bouncing this time but instead laying down, feet hanging off the side. She closed her eyes as Elena lay down next to her, one arm flopped across her stomach. Francesca in that moment was grateful she wasn't a man because the smell of Elena's perfume and the feeling of her breath was enough to give her a boner. They lay on the bed, listening to each other breath until a disgruntled employee wearing the name badge 'Diggia' came and shoo'd them off into the kitchen section.

Elena stood behind a island counter, hands on her hips in mock anger, " how dare you?" She asked as Francesca froze, "I can't believe you cheated on me!" Fran stared at her in confusion, "we're not together?" Elena held her hand over her heart, "oh so you'll throw out family out the window for a quick fuck?" The cogs in Fran's mind finally turned into place, realising that Elena was acting. "baby please he was nothing," Fran pleaded, circling the counter to embrace Elenea. At that moment the IKEA employee from before walked into the kitchen display. "Oh so if he's nothing then why is your affair partner here?" Diggia backed out, not paid enough to play therapist. Fran and Elena burst out laughing again, the pair collapsing in a heap on top of each other.

They took a break, heading down to the finest food establishment, the IKEA cafe.

"The sluttem bed was really good." Elena said, half a Swedish meatball hanging off her fork. Francesca paused, eyes slightly wide, "that is not the name!" She exclaimed, shaking her head. Elena pointed the half meatball at her, "it is called the sluttem, don't you want the slutty bed?" Fran nodded, eyes trailing down her arm to her shoulder, drifting down to her cleavage. Fran shook her head as Elena finished her meal, picking up both their plates to return.

Hand in hand they made their way back to the bedroom area. Francesca stood with her back to the bed as she opened and closed the wardrobe. Elena coughed, getting her attention as she lay on the bed, propped up on on elbow. Francesca looked at her laying on the bed casually and suddenly her brain was full of the idea of a naked Elena laying in her bedroom.

Adrenaline flowed through Francesca's veins as she watched Elena pat the space in front of her. Instead of laying down, Fran hovered above her, cupping her face in her hands as she kissed her. Everything around them faded out as Elena kissed her back, hands pulling Francesca in closer. They pulled apart for air, foreheads pressed close as Elena pressed her lips against Fran's again. "FOR FUCKS SAKE," a voice boomed. Francesca stood up straight as Diggia looked at them tired, "if you're not going to buy anything get out." Elena stood up, adjusting her tanktop as Fran pointed to the bed. "I'm buying one of these." Diggia looked at the pair of them, "fine, follow me." The two women did as so, not wanting to get permanently banned from IKEA.

At the counter, Diggia tapped at the till screen, a pointed look in his eys as he asked Francesca the name of the bed she wanted. She paused, forgetting the name. "The sluttem bed." Elena answered as Diggia sighed, "the slattum? Do you want it delivered?" Francesca nodded, just wanting the whole confrontation to be over. The card reader flickered on, Fran tapping her card on the reader only to be declined. The blood in her veins froze as Diggia looked up to the ceiling, muttering a prayer. Fran inserted her card and tapped her pin in, the transaction approving instantly. "Card limits," she said awkwardly as Diggia handed her the receipt, declaring to the other cashier that he was going on a vape break.

Elena held her hand as they walked to the carpark. Francesca walked slowly, not wanting the date to be over. Reaching the rented truck, she slapped her forehead. "Why did I pay for shipping?" Elena laughed and the €14.99 seemed worth it. Francesca smiled at Elena who kissed her on her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Fran nodded, glad she didn't have to wait too long to see Elena again. "Cool I'll help you build the bed and maybe we could try it out." She said wiggling her eyebrows. Fran laughed, pressing a kiss to Elena's lips. She leaned against the truck watching Elena walk away her face bright red.

[cozage]

hii!

idk if you are willing to write angst. If you are can you please write breaking up with zoro and sanji comforting you? Thank you and have a good day/night!❤

Made for Two

A/N: I DO WRITE ANGST AND I LOVE THIS PROMPT!!! THANK YOUUUUUU

Characters: gn reader x Sanji

Cw: some slightly suggestive content for a second but nothing crazy. Angst (obviously) and some great fluff/care

Total word count: 3.2k Brief Summary: You thought Zoro was the only person for you, but after a bad breakup, a certain cook attempts to cheer you up. Prologue | > Part Three | Masterlist

Set for Two

The worst thing about a breakup was the distance. Not that he was too far away, but that you were so damn close. You were trapped on a ship with your ex, and the only place you could be certain you wouldn’t see his face was your own room. 

You didn’t want Zoro to know how hard you were taking the breakup. He could make an educated guess if he cared to, since you hadn’t left your room in two and a half days. But the walls were made of Adam wood, so at least the rooms were soundproof. You got some solace in knowing that he couldn’t hear you crying yourself to sleep every night, missing his presence in your bed that seemed too large for one person. 

The rest of the crew occasionally checked in on you. Courtesy checks of awkward and base level questions. You could tell they cared, but there wasn’t really anything they could do. You just wanted to lay in bed and mourn your loss for a few days, and then you would pick yourself up and be ready to face everyone. They tried to help in the best way they could, but you just wanted to be alone. Thankfully most of them understood that.

Sanji was different though. He brought you meals, snacks, and plenty of refreshments throughout the day. He would knock twice on your door to let you know something was waiting for you, and then leave a covered tray near your room for you to grab at your convenience. Sometimes you ate it, other times you didn’t touch it. He never commented on it, he just gave you a soft double knock to know he was there. 

On the evening of the third day, it was different though. The knock came twice, waited a beat, and then it came again. 

“Go away,” your voice was hoarse, raised just loud enough for it to go through the wooden door. 

“It’s me.” Sanji’s velvet voice came from the other side. It was the first time he spoke to you since he had started bringing you food, and you found yourself curious at the change in pattern from the cook. 

“Oh.” You paused, not sure what else to say. “You can come in, I guess.”

The door softly clicked open, and Sanji clicked on the light in your room so he could see better. You squinted against the harsh brightness and ducked under a blanket. You could hear a rolling cart of sorts being moved into your room and the soft click of Sanji’s shoes walking towards you. 

“Y/N,” Sanji spoke softly, now next to you. “Let’s get up, shall we? Let’s have dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled. 

“You didn’t eat lunch or your afternoon snack, so I know that’s a lie.”

As if on cue, your stomach betrayed you by emitting a groan of hunger. You peeked out of the covers slightly, trying to see what dish he had prepared tonight for you. But all you could see was him. 

Sanji smirked at you, knowing his point was proven. “Come on, shower before dinner. I still have to prepare it, so go get ready.”

“But-”

“I’m going to lock that stupid marimo in his training room. So go grab some fresh clothes, I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.”

He didn’t give you a chance to object. As soon as he was finished with his statement, he ran out the door, leaving you alone again. It had been a while since you had been in your room with the light on. As you looked around, you remembered why. Some of Zoro’s things were still strewn around the room. His tank tops, a random plant you bought him to see if he could actually take care of a living thing, a few resistance stretch bands for training. After your breakup you had locked yourself in here. There hadn’t been time for him to gather his stuff, and you hadn’t returned it yet. Your heart tightens seeing the remnants of your all's love here, so minor yet so obvious that you two are together. Were together. 

You tried to push the pain out of your mind, and walked over to your dresser to grab some new clothes. You were going to opt for more pajamas, but something told you to pick out something a little less depressing. You shuffled through your drawer, settling on a casual tank top and some comfortable shorts instead. You could still lay in bed with this outfit after, but it made you look a bit more presentable then you were currently. 

A two-rapped knock came from the door, and you gathered your clothes and your bath towel. Your stomach tangled into knots at the thought of seeing anyone right now, let alone walking through the entire ship up to the bathhouse. Just the thought made you feel so vulnerable, so exposed. So alone. 

The knock came again, and you were reminded that you weren’t alone. You had Sanji. You opened the door to see the blonde leaning against the door frame, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. 

He looked at you expectantly. “You ready?”

“Can I have a drag before I go?” You’re already reaching up for his cigarette, and you can see your question shocks him. You grab it before it falls from his mouth, and you put it to your lips. You inhale long and deep, letting the smoke fill your lungs. It soothes you in a way, and you understand why Sanji smokes so often. You exhale, giving a small cough as the smoke passes through your lips into the air between the two of you. Returning the cigarette to Sanji, you start towards the door without another word. Your heart clenches as you step out onto the deck, nervous of what you’ll find when you reach the outdoors. 

You hear Sanji’s footsteps behind you, and you relax a little knowing that he’s close behind. As you walk out, your eyes glance up to the crow's nest instinctually. There’s a chain wrapped around the entire outside of the building, which must be Sanji’s work. You can’t see Zoro, but you can hear music blasting from the area, which is enough proof that he’s in there training. That’s all he ever seemed to care about these days. There wasn’t a single thing or a single person that was more important than-

“Come on.” Sanji gently grabs your arm, nudging you to turn away from the crow’s nest. You hadn’t realized you had stopped to stare, and you’re thankful for his gentle guidance to bring you back to reality. Your cheeks flush, and you pray that Zoro wasn’t near a window to see you staring. 

Sanji looped his arms through yours and walked you up the stairs. He could sense your rigid muscles, tense with anxiety. “It was just for a second,” He muttered to you. “I’m sure nobody even noticed.” 

You glance around the ship, and see that he’s right. Most of the crew hadn’t even noticed you emerging from your room, let alone saw you gawking up at the crow’s nest. You saw Nami do a double take when she realized it was you as you ascended the stairs, but she went back to her work quickly, trying to appear normal. The rest of the crew were either oblivious or not on the deck.

You had arrived at the bath house, and Sanji pulled away from you. “Will you be okay returning to your room on your own, or should I wait here?” 

“I’ll be okay, thank you though.” With a nod, he departed, leaving you alone outside the door to the bath house. 

The water burned against your skin, breathing life back into your bones. You tried to focus on the now as your washed your body clean from the past few days of despair. But your shampoo didn’t smell right without the mixture of his. The water pressure felt harsh without his body next to yours. You could feel the tears starting to form, and you were thankful for the water washing away your tears, because you didn’t have the energy to wipe them yourself. 

You stood there until the water stopped scalding your skin, and then you stood there some more. It felt like you were frozen in time, incapable of moving away from these feelings. They were as deep and dark as the ocean, and you were sure you were going to drown. And then two knocks came from the other side of the door, bringing you back to the present once again. Sanji.  

“Everything okay?” His voice snapped you into action, and you quickly turned off the shower.

“Fine!” Your voice cracked as you called out, and you prayed he didn’t notice. You quickly dried yourself off and changed into your fresh pair of clothes as fast as possible. You looked at yourself in the mirror, wiping at your swollen eyes and combing through your half washed hair. It was the best you were going to get, so you put on a half-attempted smile and opened the door to meet him. 

If Sanji noticed your messy appearance, he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t mention how long you had stayed in the shower, or that he had to come get you. He simply smiled when he saw you, and held his arm out for you to take. You took it, and resisted the urge to glance back up at Zoro’s training room again. 

The deck was eerily quiet for it being such a lovely night, and you could see the sun was setting over the horizon. You paused for a moment, watching the colors shift and change with every second. 

“Do you want to stay and watch it?” Sanji’s looking at you, but you shake your head and turn away from the view to continue walking. Watching the sunset used to be something you and Zoro would do, a small moment that you had forced him to carve out in his training routine for you. Thinking about it now made you bitter; you always had to beg for his attention and his affection. You were never at the forefront of Zoro’s mind like he was at yours. 

As you arrive at your room, you can feel Sanji start to tense with nervous energy. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says, opening the door. “I tidied up a bit.”

Tidy was an understatement. Soft, twinkling lights now lined your ceiling. It was calming, much more manageable than your fluorescent overhead lights. Zoro’s things that had been scattered across the room were all gone from sight. Your bed sheets had been changed out for fresh linens. And in the corner of the room was a low dining table with two cushions and a small candelabra in the center of it.

You’re not sure how Sanji was able to do so much in such a little time. You’re about to ask him, but Sanji ushers you over to the table to sit you down, and then begins to serve you a spread of all of your favorite dishes. Some of the food you had never even commented on how much you loved it, and yet Sanji knew what you loved. Tears began to well up, overwhelmed with the sentiment he was showing you. 

“Thank you,” you gasped out, and you had to put a hand over your mouth to stifle a sob. Your reaction startled the cook, and he bent down to be at face level with you. 

“Hey, hey,” he rubbed your back, trying to get you to calm down. “Talk to me, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing!” you reassured him, wiping at your eyes. The tears were still flowing, and you felt a little embarrassed at your surge of emotion. “This is just so perfect. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He laughed softly, relieved that you were okay. “You haven’t even tried the food yet, Y/N.”

Once he had placed the spread of food in front of you, he took his place at the seat across from you. You were about to take a bite when you realized his side of the table was empty. 

He noticed you looking at him. “This is just for you,” he clarified. “I already ate.”

“It’s a table made for two. Eat with me,” you begged. “Please?”

He couldn’t refuse your request, so he grabbed a small plate and picked a few small portions off one of the trays to nibble on while you ate. 

Every bite you had was better than the last. You let out a soft moan of pleasure with every bite. “God Sanji, you have to teach me how to cook like this.”

You see a flash of surprise cross his face at your comment. “I didn’t know you were interested in cooking.”

You laughed. It was the first time you had laughed in a few days, and it felt nice to have it come so naturally. “I used to do it all the time! I loved to cook before I joined the Sunny. Not all the time, and I wasn’t exceptionally good at it, but I could follow a recipe pretty well!”

“I’d love to have you in the kitchen whenever you want to join,” Sanji smiles at you, and you can tell he’s being genuine in his offer. 

Zoro never wanted you in the training room with him. You were always some kind of distraction for him. Even when you sat silently in the corner, you always felt like you were in the way. Even if Sanji was being genuine now, you weren’t sure he would feel that way once you actually were in his space with him. 

Sanji could see you slipping back into the past, and he speaks up again, trying to bring you back to him. “We can learn whatever recipe you want. I’ll write it down and we can follow it step by step.”

You look at him, surprised by his insistence on the topic. “Maybe we can start out with a dessert?” You offer. Those usually took less time than a full meal, so it would be easier for him to kick you out if he was having a bad time. 

“I have a great macaron recipe! We should do that!”

You scoff. “Aren’t those really advanced and difficult?”

He nods, with a grin still on his face and excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m certain you can do it! If not, then we can always try something else and work our way up to it.”

You nod and finish eating the spread he’s laid out for you. A bit of hope swirls inside you, mixing with the despair and sadness that lingered over the past few days. You always wrote Sanji off as a pervert cook, and now you were wondering how much of that ideology came from Zoro’s snide comments and disdain towards the man. Sanji was kind. He was attentive, and he cared about his crew. Him and Zoro were so alike and yet so different in the strangest of ways.

“Y/N,” he says, calling your attention back to him. He always knew when you were starting to slip away. “You deserve to be treated like royalty, you know.”

Your face must’ve held a shocked expression, because his face flushed red. “I’m not saying that person needs to be me.” His words tumbled quickly out of his mouth, rushing to explain. “But you do deserve it from someone.”

He begins to pick up the plates from in front of you, ignoring the glassy look in your eyes. You furiously wipe at your face, willing your eyes to dry. You’ve cried enough today, and yet you can't will yourself to stop. 

Sanji silently pours you a cup of tea - vanilla and chamomile, your favorite before bed. He sets it in front of you, and begins to take his leave. As he reaches the door, he looks back at you, still sitting where he left you. 

“Sleep well, my dear.” 

“Sanji?” You call to him. You’re still staring at the wall, your back to him. He can’t see your face, but he can hear your voice tremble slightly. 

“Hm?”

“Can you stay here tonight?” Your face is burning and you’re thankful that you're facing away from him. “I mean, can you lay with me until I fall asleep?”

Sanji hesitates for a moment. “I can stay all night - if you’d like me to.”

“I would.”

“Let me go put these dishes away and clean up, and then I’ll be right back here. Is that all right?”

You nod in response, and pick up the teacup in front of you to take a drink. The temperature is perfect, and it’s a perfect ending to the meal you’ve just eaten. You’d expect nothing less from Sanji. 

You suspect that even the teacup had been selected specifically for you, a decision that Sanji probably spent a half an hour on. He gave so much effort to show you how much he cared. It was such a foreign concept, you felt a little nauseous thinking about it. You deserve to be treated like royalty. The words rang in your ears still. Zoro had never given much effort in your relationship, but neither had you. Maybe if you had put in the effort that Sanji put in, maybe if you had been more understanding towards Zoro, then everything would have ended differently. You could feel tears spilling out of your eyes again, and you were ashamed that you were already crying again. 

Sanji didn’t bother to knock on the door before he entered this time, and he found you still staring at the wall, tears streaming down your face. The half-drank tea was still in front of you, cold now. You furiously wiped the tears from your eyes again, trying to act like nothing happened. Sanji looked down at you with a frown, but he didn’t comment on your current state. 

“Are you ready for bed?” He offered a hand to you as he asked. 

You took his hand and stood, walking to your bed. He pulled back the covers, motioning for you to get in, and you followed his silent instructions. 

He hesitates for a second at the edge of the bed, glancing around your room. “Are you sure you want my company? I don’t want…”

“Please.” You can’t hide the desperation that seeps out of your voice. You don’t want to be alone again.

He gingerly gets into bed next to you, giving you ample space to get comfortable. You close the gap between the two of you quickly, curling up into his side. You wrap your arms around his torso, eager for the warmth of another person’s body again. Your bed was made for two, and you feel more relaxed with him next to you. 

Sanji doesn’t comment when he feels his shirt grow wet with your tears. He just silently rubs your back and holds you until you fall asleep, feeling your breathing finally slow and become even. He keeps you close through the night, silently cursing that stupid Marimo for hurting you, and vowing that he’ll do everything he can to prevent you from feeling this pain ever again. 

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Out of the Woods

So finally here is the fic to accompany the Liebgott Taylor Swift moodboard (as seen below) Pairings: Joseph Liebgott x reader. Warnings: swearing, gore (reader is a nurse), war themes

Normandy 1944

Joseph Liebgott had never been the easiest man to get along with, he was stubborn and opinionated and was built like a ticking time bomb, the slightest thing could set him off and that was the mistake Y/n made when she first bumped into him.

“Hey, watch where ya going ya shit head!” Y/n stumbled forward, her threadbare boots scuffing in the mud as she dropped the wooden crate of medical supplies, cursing as the valuable, clean bandages unravelled into the sludgy puddle. The path outside the aid station was a thick mire and often reminded Y/n of the way her father had reminisced about the trenches of the Great War.

“ I should watch where I’m going?” Y/n spat, narrowing her eyes at the paratrooper, “You’re the one who just cost first battalion half of their medical supplies.” Throwing the salvageable bandages back into the box in anguish, the crumpled lumps of clay-coloured cloth were no good now. Y/n wasn’t sure how she was going to break the news to Eugene; the medic wasn’t known for his anger but knowing their situation this would surely push him over the edge.

The paratrooper spun around to face her, his skin pale and dark eyes encircled by purple, “oh so first battalion got their own personal nurse now? No wonder those fuckers are so cheerful,” he sneered, oblivious of the accident he had inflicted and not bother to offer any kind of assistance as Y/n fumbled anxiously for the supplies.

“No, I’m distributing supplies to all the medics in each battalion of Dog, Easy and Fox company actually, but maybe when I find out which battalion you’re from I’ll conveniently skip them,” she snapped back, thrusting the waterlogged box aggressively under her arm, no longer concerned by the trail of sludge leaking down her white apron.

“Good day, Corporal.”

Holland 1944

The second time they met was no better. Joe had been injured on a patrol and his neck was bleeding profusely through the rudimentary bandage wrapped poorly in a limp scarf.

“Liebgott just let me look at it God dammit,” Y/n reached over, her nimble fingers trying desperately to remove the bandage from his neck but he flinched away. Her fingers barely brushed against the dressing as he shot up from his seat in a receptive, crumbling leather chair situated in the corner of the temporary aid station, having once been someone’s home that now lay abandoned and derelict.

“No, get off me. I don’t need your help. Where’s Doc Roe?” Liebgott snapped, and Y/n sighed elaborately; she was in no mood for this kind of attitude. There were eleven other men in the aid station who would all greatly appreciate being attended too.

“Doc Roe is dealing with other casualties. You got me or nothing.”

Liebgott snorted, “Guess I’ll just bleed to death then.”

Y/n protested but Liebgott had already shouldered his M1 and was making his way towards the entrance.

“Why won’t you just let me look at it?” Y/n hollered, a little louder than she had intended and alerted the other paratroopers.

Joe spun on his heels, his mouth-eaten jump boots, scraping the rough, wooden floorboards.

“I don’t want some woman half-assing a dressing because she wants to be part of the war effort. This is no place for a woman, it is a man's war,” he vituperated her, taking no notice of the stares he was receiving from his friends. “I don’t want your help,” his word was final and his boots were heavy as he departed leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

“I don’t know what his problem is with me, Gene,” Y/n sighed, as she finished unpacking the fresh medical supplies from one of the many crates from their much-needed supply drop. Her muscles griped, but soon relaxed as she finally took a seat on one of the crates; Y/n had been on her feet all day. “I don’t know why he hates me.”

Eugene's dark eyes followed her movements, sending a sympathetic smile her way as he dropped down beside her on the crates, “Liebgott is a hard man to read, ma Chérie.”

Y/n simpered, the right corner of her lips turning upwards at the nickname. Eugene, with his dark hair and kind eyes, had always been a striking character and the two were of one mind. His friendly but subdued nature seemed to draw people to him, making him a favourite within the company, including with Y/n who despite what other men in the Company thought was always a welcome hand by Eugene’s side,

“I just don’t understand why he hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” the gruff voice caused the pair to turn; Y/n felt as though she may have whiplash from the speed at which she spun around, concerned by how much he could have heard from their conversation and worried that he would now think she was pathetic, lamenting about trivial problems. Joe, standing in the doorway leaning against his M1, seemed to have not heard the conversation or if he had he never made a comment. Instead, his dark eyes made their way towards Eugene, bloody bandages still pressed against the wound on his neck.

“Are you free to look at my neck now, Doc?” He asked, ignorant of Y/n presence - why should this be any different to any of their previous interactions? He stared blankly at Eugene.

“Sure, Liebgott,” Eugene stood up and moved over to his fellow paratrooper. “Take ya self a seat, I’ll grab ma things.”

Eugene disappeared, his heavy footfalls seemed to echo his departure and was the only sign Y/n needed.

“I’m going to head out, Gene. I’m shattered,” her hands fumbling into her musette bag, hastily stuffing the extra box of syrettes Eugene had given her into the inner pocket. Joe’s eyes seemed to dance after her, an unwanted shadow documenting her every movement. They followed her out of the door and even as her boots squelched unpleasantly down the track, her legs carrying her rapidly away from the watchful eyes. She couldn’t find it in her to turn around, to face him, too afraid of the glare he always sent her way.

Bastogne 1944

The Luftwaffe started dropping bombs around midnight. Y/n with blood encrusted under her short nails, had just finished her rounds, checking on all the wounded soldiers she had patched up during the day. The distinct whistling from above was her first clue that they weren’t going to have a quiet night. Like a deathly siren announcing the beginning of the end. Reneé appeared beside her, anxiety etched on her delicate features.

“We are in for a long night, Y/n. Grab what supplies you can.”

Y/n nodded, hurrying towards the store room when the first bomb whistled down on the church, shaking it from the rafters, dust falling in great clouds from the ceiling.

“Y/n, come quickly. We have to evacuate everyone.”

Along with the other nurses, Y/n helped Reneé evacuate the walking wounded first, sending injured soldiers into the snowy streets of Bastogne. Next came the more severely injured, hauled out on stretchers between two nurses.

“Y/n, stay out here with the wounded, check their wounds. We have to make sure no one has torn any stitches trying to escape. I’m going to try and get some more out,” Reneé called, hurrying back into the crumbling church with several other nurses hot on her heels.

Great flames billowed from the surrounding buildings, the night was ablaze with fire and smoke, and the earth shook with each eruption. Soldiers had started firing the Ack Ack guns at the aircraft above. The noise was deafening, a constant pounding over the top of the whistling bombs and explosions. Y/n could feel her heart pounding, a constant thumping in her ear reminding her that she was miraculously still alive.

The church was struck again and Y/n had to fight the urge to follow her friends into danger, but the wounded soldiers needed her. Lights flashed up behind her, illuminating the terrified nurse and her patients. She turned to see a jeep approaching, a wounded man strapped to the front wailing in agony, thrashing against his restraints. The jeep swerved to a halt and a figure came running towards her.

“EUGENE!” She cried out running to embrace her friend.

“Ma Chérie, are you alright?” Eugene hugged her tightly to his chest. Y/n couldn’t help the tears that began to fall, the growing emotions of the evening finally spilling from within her.

“Gene, Reneé went back inside,” Y/n sobbed, just as the third shell hit the church. They both watched in horror as the front of the church caved in, stone crumbling down into the street and blocking the entrance.

“NOOOO!” Y/n cried, thrashing against Eugene’s arms but he wouldn’t let go.

“No Y/n, please. There is nothing we can do. I can’t lose you too,” he admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as they shared in their grief.

Joe sat shivering in his foxhole, the cold seeping into his bones in a way that the winter in San Francisco never could have.

“Hey Joe,” George called out, plonking himself down beside him. “How ya doing?” George shoved his scuffed leather boot against Joe’s clothed leg, prodding him like an impatient child.

Joe turned to him, “How the fuck do you think I’m doing, George? I’m freezing my fucking ass off in the middle of the woods for a CO who can’t even make a decision.”

“Alright, jeez. Sorry for asking,” George raised his hands in surrender. “We just got news from Bastogne.” George began, trying to gauge Joe’s reaction. “It was hit by the Luftwaffe. The aid station… it’s gone.”

“Oh fucking brilliant. Now if we get hit we ain’t got no aid station either.”

George swallowed quickly, “Y/n was in Bastogne.”

Any words Joe had thought of died in the back of his throat. His face went as white as the snow on the ground and he could feel the sweat growing on his palms, his stomach plummeting into his jump boots.

“Is she…?”

“I don’t know, Joe. Doc’s not back yet but I wanted to prepare you in case.”

“In case of what?” Joe snapped, standing from his foxhole and slinging his M1 over his shoulder in anguish. “And why should I care anyway? It’s not like I like her or anything.”

“Fucking hell,” George whispered under his breath. “Joe, when are you gonna grow some balls and admit you’re in love with her. Everyone can see it, including Webster and he’s oblivious to most things.”

It was true George had to spell it out to him back in Holland before he got hit.

“Webster sent a letter to Hoobler the other week asking if you’d finally told Y/n.”

Joe sighed, running his hand over his face, deep in thought.

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Hell yes. I bet even the Krauts on the other side of the clearing can see it.”

Joe nodded slowly, “okay. As soon as I find her I’m gonna tell her.”

George nodded, watching as his friend hurried away to check if Eugene had returned.

“Let’s just hope he’s not too late.”

Y/n groaned as she straightened her back, stretching after what seemed like hours of bending over to apply dressings, carrying wounded men to transport vehicles, and digging through the rubble to collect supplies. Her friend's bodies had been retrieved from the church and lay in a neat row under rough, army-issued blankets. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look at them, couldn’t bring herself to accept their fate.

She had seen members of Easy Company coming and going. A few had been sent by Captain Winters to help, bringing with them more wounded paratroopers from the front line. Y/n was too preoccupied to notice the familiar figure approaching her, she didn’t notice until he grabbed her arm firmly and spun her around to face him.

“Liebgott!” She gasped, raising her hand to smack him. “What the hell is your problem? You scared me half to death.”

Joe looked a mixture of shocked and confused until his cheeks grew a bright red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He seemed genuinely sorry but Y/n was too consumed by her emotions to think rationally.

“Well you did a darn good job of that didn’t you,” she snapped. “You know if you’re just here to be mean or make some rude comment then you can forget it. I’m not in the mood today. I just lost my friends.” Y/n knew she should not have snapped, it wasn’t Joe’s fault but all the emotions were bubbling up inside her and if she felt anymore pain her heart would burst.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Joe began, he reached forward to take Y/n hand in his own. It was warm, comforting and almost felt familiar, as if he had been holding her hand all their lives. She let him but watched in confusion by this unusual act.

“I’m so sorry about your friends, Y/n. I know this must be difficult for you. I’m here because… well when George told me the aid station had been hit I couldn’t think of anything else than making sure you were okay. Y/n I realised something and…”

“Joe, let me stop you right there. Why would you care if I was okay or not? Joe you hate me… and… and I’ve never understood why?” Y/n sobbed, bringing her hand to cover her mouth, muffling her whimpers into her bloody sleeve. “Why do you hate me, Joe? What did I do wrong?”

Joe’s heart shattered at the sight of the broken woman in front of him. Her shoulders shook violently and tears flowed freely down her dirty cheeks, smudge with ash and mud. She looked frail, weak even and Joe hated that he’d caused it.

“Y/n, I never hated you. Why would you think that?” Joe moved towards her, collecting her hands in his own larger ones once more and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Talk to me, Y/n. Please.”

“Well you always shout at me and… and you wouldn’t l-let me treat your wound and y-you avoid me all the time,” she stammered, looking up at him through tear-filled lashes.

“Oh Sweetheart,” Joe pulled her against his chest, his breath felt warm and tingly against her neck. Y/n had never noticed that he was only slightly taller than her and her head fitted perfectly in the crook of his neck. Her hands wrapped into tight fists against his jacket and she could feel his heart hammering against her hands. “I don’t want you to ever feel like that again.”

“Joe…”

“Shh Mein Liebling, it’s all going to be alright now.”

Austria 1945

Y/n had never dreamed that she would get to visit Austria. It seemed as if it was a world away from the likes of Bastogne and the horrors of war. Its tranquil, turquoise lakes and steep mountains with their snow-covered peaks seemed the pinnacle of the landscape. Work had become scarce too, other than the occasional scrape or sprain it had mainly become stock control and arranging supplies to be sent to the Pacific where the fighting had yet to cease. Y/n knew that both herself or Joe could be sent to the Pacific at any time it was inevitable, and neither of them was going to get through the war unscathed.

For now, they were at peace and in the comforts of her room, under clean sheets with her legs tangled in Joe’s and her head resting on his chest, Y/n couldn’t help but feel at peace. The steady thrumming of his heart and the gentle rise and fall of his chest coaxed her too and from sleep in waves. She didn’t want to move, afraid that she would disturb her sleeping paratrooper but at the same time her legs had gone numb hours ago and she could feel the pins and needles begin to prickle their way up her legs.

“Joe?” She whispered, reasoning her hand cautiously to brush a stray brunette lock out of his eyes. Joe’s nose wrinkled and he screwed his eyes shut tighter with a sigh. Y/n smiled as she watched him stir from his slumber. It was one of life’s greatest pleasures to see Joe so relaxed, so at peace even if for just a while.

Joe moaned, his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks before they opened revealing his chestnut orbs.

“Good morning Mein Liebling,” his voice was gruff and sleepy but the smile on his face said that he was more than conscious enough to show his love.

Y/n smiled back at him, “Good morning handsome. How did you sleep?”

“It’s the best night's sleep I’ve had in a while, although I don’t recall much bc sleeping happening.” Joe grinned and Y/n's cheeks grew bright red at the thought of last night’s activity. Glancing around the room there was evidence everywhere. Clothes strewn across the floor, the mirror hung lopsided on the wall, the desk was cleared of any objects and the paper that had once occupied it lay across the carpet.

“I have to admit it’s the most enjoyable night I’ve had in a long time,” Joe admitted, tangling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Me too,” Y/n admitted and Joe smiled once again.

“What does it mean? Mein Liebling?” Y/n asked, running her fingernails slowly over his exposed chest.

Joe laughed, “my darling. It’s been your nickname for a long time.” He admitted his cheeks rosy and his smile nervous.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been calling you that for far longer than you’ve realised. I just didn’t want anyone to realise I was talking about you. Figured the other guys would give me hell about it.” Releasing the lock he’d wrapped around his finger, he sat propped up by his elbows so he could face her.

“Y/n, I need to ask you something and it’d be real nice if your answer was yes.”

Y/n sat up now too, her expression a mixture of anxiety and confusion but the soft smile on her lips encouraged him to continue.

“Y/n will you come home with me, back to Chicago I mean? I can get my old job back at the cab company and we can buy a big house…” he paused a grin spreading across his lips. “A big house with lots of rooms, for all the little Liebgotts we’re gonna be making.”

Y/n laughed, smacking Joe’s arm.

“You’re lucky you’re good looking Liebgott.”

“Am I taking that as a yes?”

“Yes, you can.”

Joe grinned at her, his cheeky little smile followed by a little laugh causing Y/n’s heart to swell beyond what she thought was possible. Wrapped in Joe’s arms in their little room in Austria Y/n realised that maybe they were finally out of the woods.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @desert-fern @mayhem24-7forever @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @merriell-allesandro-shelton @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @mutantmanifesto @malarkgirlypop

[dzamie-oc]

Voretober 09 - Wheel

what the hell am I supposed to do with "wheel"

Length: 1600 words Vore type: Oral vore, unwilling prey, F/M Fandom: None Other info: snake/anthro, digestion as threat Summary: A fox on the run finds a fortuitous hiding spot, and the snake in it is very friendly! Surely nothing will go wrong.

David vaulted over a fallen log, then took a tight left around a boulder, using his fluffy to counterbalance, before using it to leap across a stream. His pursuer may have been faster than him, but he knew these woods like the back of his hand. Unfortunately, that didn't mean the fox could keep it up forever, or even lose his tracker; he'd have to settle on a hiding place, but all the trees took too long to climb, the bushes were too thin, and the stream was simply too slow. Running mostly on autopilot, his limbs carried him over and around what David hoped would be a tough route to follow, while he searched his memory and sight for a big enough tree or log hollow, a cave, anything.

A looming, black shape grabbed his attention; without a better plan, David swung his arm around a thin tree and beelined for… a huge tire, laying across one of the forest's tourism nature trails. The fox inwardly grimaced at the sign of heavy industrial equipment, but decided it was ultimately a boon: worrying about future development would have to wait for him to know that his future would even exist. After one last peek over his shoulder, checking if his pursuer, and thus he, could be easily seen, David dove into the middle of the tire and shimmied into its cavity. Opaque, relatively small, and granting him shadow to hide in, a fantastic stroke of luck.

"Gah! Woah, where'd you come from?" At the new voice, David's heart thundered. Luckily, he didn't recognize it, so he at least knew who it wasn't.

Still, the fox looked around for the source, hesitant to speak up, just in case. On the slightly sunnier side of the tire, he caught the shimmer of mottled, brown scales, and as his eyes adjusted to the shade, he saw more and more of the stranger. A long snake coiled over and around herself, only barely encircled by the massive tire, with her head resting about a third of the way around from him. Scales slid against scales as she drew closer, keen curiosity in her bright yellow eyes.

This time, it was intimidation, not fear of discovery, that stayed David's tongue, so the snake flickered hers and tried again. "Not that I mind company, but I was in the middle of a nap…" she said, then turned her head to yawn; Her lower jaw wiggled back and forth before returning to normal at the end. "…hello? Foxy?"

Realizing that she expected him to speak, David finally found his voice. "I… I'm hiding from someone. I don't know for certain what will happen, but I really, really don't want to be caught." A thought struck him, and he consulted his mental map of the forest. "Has this tire been here long? I don't remember it when I passed by a few days ago."

"Oh, it's mine. A portable hide, and one not out of place nearly anywhere!" The snake tapped her head affectionately against the inner rubber. "It took a bit to learn how to roll in it, but well worth it!"

The fox sighed, relieved. "So there aren't plans to destroy this forest. Good."

"Nope, just a wandering snake. Fiona, by the way, amateur story collector."

"Huh?"

"My name. Since I figure we'll be close for a bit," Fiona replied.

"Right, sorry. I'm David… just a fox." Something piqued his curiosity. "What do you mean, story collector?"

Fiona's eyes gleamed. "I'm glad you asked! After all, it's the reason I'm even in this thing! Lay back, let me elucidate." David did so, shimmying back against several lengths of her scaly body. His paws found a convenient gap to tuck into, and then the snake continued:

"Nearly since I hatched, I loved hearing about stuff other people did - incredible sights my siblings saw, improbable battles, tales of creatures I never even thought could exist! I did what I could to remember them and retell them for my younger siblings, or those who simply weren't there to hear at the time."

A comforting pressure crept up David's ankles. "That… if you don't mind me saying, that sounds pretty normal so far."

"It was! But eventually, I realized that different creatures and people have different life stories to tell, and I'd get comparatively nowhere just by staying around where I grew up." Fiona's head drifted from one side of the tire to the other, and David's gaze followed.

"So you decided to travel and found the tire?"

The snake laughed. "Oh, no, this was only a few months ago. I started by just slithering around." As though demonstrating, her entire body shifted and undulated against itself, covering more of David's body; he thought perhaps he ought to be concerned, but he wanted to hear Fiona tell her story. "But I did decide to travel! Forests, villages, a couple streams, so many different people with so many life stories to tell. A recent favorite of mine is a bunny girl whose life story was the time she scammed a human out of two entire caskets of wi- oop, shush!"

With a blur of movement, Fiona's coils covered David completely; he was about to shout and try to free himself when, instead, he heard very familiar footsteps. Hidden so completely by the snake's body, it was only his ears that truly picked up the person he was trying so hard to avoid. Raggedy breathing, the slam of paws on rubber, and a low growl; the fox could only pray that Fiona was the only one visible. After far too much time to be comfortable, the breathing grew quieter, as did angry, heavy footsteps.

Finally, a few lengths of her scaly body parted, letting him see again. In front of him was a smiling snake, yellow eyes bright and mirthful, clearly trying her best not to laugh. Looking at her, he found it tempting to join in - but wouldn't dare having just escaped disaster. Once again, Fiona was the first to speak, in a hissing whisper, "his entire head was bright pink!"

David grinned back and nodded. "Yeah, we're not exactly friends. Now, I wouldn't kill him, but I don't know if he'd extend the same courtesy."

"Clearly. Oh, speaking of which, would you like to know why I said the bunny thing was her life story, even though it was just a day? I've got two reasons."

The fox hummed. "Is one of them philosophical, like it's a representation of their personality in just one story?"

Fiona giggled, bringing a smile to David's muzzle. "Kind of! It's more that they're all unique, at least in how they're told if not what actually happens in there. Like lives! I like your idea, though."

In spite of himself, David felt himself blush at the compliment; he told himself it was just because he was laying down that his face grew so easily hot. "Thanks, Fiona. You said two, though? What's the second?"

"I'm glad you asked!"

The serpentine smile before him vanished, instead transforming into a wide, fleshy maw, glistening with drool. David tried to pull back, but of course, her body was all around him, and there was nothing he could do as pink filled his vision, then black, as she swallowed his muzzle and head in just a few gulps. The fox tried his best to push her off, but not only did her scaly body keep his from moving too much, it even tightened when he struggled! With her throat holding his mouth closed, the closest he could manage to a cry for help was a frantic moan, one muffled by her jaws and the tire. Of course, even without it, the two of them had put so much effort into being unheard that David was certain nobody around would have been able to hear him, anyway.

Around his shoulders, the heat and wetness of Fiona's mouth replaced her cooler, dry scales. When David focused - and he tried not to - he felt her throat expand and contract, allowing her to work her way down his body. His chest and midsection were next to go, leaving his arms pinned only by her gullet, rather than her coils, not that that was any help, as a few futile struggles soon proved. As she approached his waist, part of the fox was still in denial: surely she was far too thin a snake to fit him? Clearly, Fiona would have to give up eventually. But as a discomforting dampness and pressure slipped over his hips and down his thighs, that fantasy grew weaker and weaker.

With her maw at his knees, David found the pressure around his head lessen. The air grew more acrid, but her body wasn't as tight so deep. He tried shouting for help, just in case, right before her mouth closed after his paws, sealing his doom. From there, he could do little more than wait while her body squeezed the rest of his into her stomach. The fox's eyes stung, but no tears came. And then, with her throat clear once more, the snake addressed him once more.

"You're handling this well. Anyway, more practically, I call them life stories because they're given in exchange for life!" The pep in Fiona's voice carried a far more menacing quality from the inside of her stomach, David found. "So, mister "just a fox," unless you want to take care of my lunches for the next couple weeks, I can't wait to hear yours!"

[therobotmonster]

"Nice pad."

Gorinfel looked at the Chet. It was sitting on his counter, shoving handfuls of dandelion flour into its mouth. He once again attempted to cast a glamour over the thing, but it kept munching.

"Steel plate, ding-ding." The Chet mimed knocking on its own skull but said 'ding-ding' aloud in a grating but oddly likable accent. "Iron-headed they call me, it's a good, ah, whatchacalem, meatyfor."

"It's a metaphor!"

"Ooo, gotcha to talk to me, now we're pals!" Gorinfel tried to dodge out of the way, but for a creature that small (or was it big?) the Chet moved fast, and before the Prince of Silver Twilight could shout a protest, it had his hand clasped in its flour-covered paw and was shaking it vigorously. "Nice ta meetcha can I getcha name!"

"Wh-what in Titania-" Gorinfel stammered.

"Ooo, almost gotcha! Not so funny when the foots on the udder hand, right?" The Chet slapped Gorinfel on the back in the way humans did when they like you. It was, in a word, gross. "I know ya day-to-day name, Gori, you got it written on ya doorstep."

"How can you read it? It's not visible to anyone but me."

"I'm gonna break it to ya now, I ain't too careful about what I put in my mouth." The Chet said, walking over to the panty. "That yummy flour, particularly shiny marbles, DMT, black licorice... My mom gave me colloidal silver a lot... Blame whichever one of those is convenient."

The Chet started eating a head of lettuce, whole, working around the eyes and nose as it went.

"Put that down! I wasn't planning on eating him till Sparksday!" Gorinfel lunged for the Chet, but it scurried shockingly quickly for a Chet of its variable size. Mortal things weren't consistent in Arcadia, not without help, and it left most of them too baffled and bewitched to cause much harm.

"I'd love to wanna help ya, pal!" The Chet, on the other hand, seemed to know instantly what size and orientation it would be on at any given moment. Information Gorinfel lacked, and the laughing, variably-scaled man-thing delighted in sending the elf careening this way or that. "But he's mmm-mmm too good to give up."

It went on like this for some time. Gorinfel could hear the neighbors gathering, snickering at him through the frost-glass as he failed to capture one unruly mortal within his own domain.

The time it took for Gorinfel to wind up laying on the floor, exhausted, while the currently tiny human kicked its feet from the rafters and ate the last succulent leaves of lettuce.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Gorinfel said. He thought it was a demand, but it came out as a whine. "Just let me just put you under a cup and put you back outside."

"I like you Gori. That, and I owe a lot of people a lot of money. So when I saw you walking through the woods to the mushroom ring, I just thought I'd drop in and stay with you for a bit. Just until the heat's off."

"How long is that?"

"Oh, six, seven years I figure. You got any weed?"

"YEARS!? Yours or mine?"

"Oh definitely yours." The Chet said. "They are VERY mad. I wouldn't wanna be me, I tell you what."

Gorinfel stared upward in silence.

"Look, it doesn't have to be all bad." The Chet said. He jumped from the rafters, carefully taking the route that made him fill half the dining hall when he landed with a crash. Gorinfel scrambled backward, raising his hands in feeble defense against the now ogre-sized Chet.

The immense thing reached its dusted-white hand into its coat pocket. The elf opened his mouth to scream or plead or shout, he was not sure which. He was only certain that a creature this adept, this terrifyingly prepared, was reaching for an iron spike or a club of coffin-wood to smash the life from him.

Instead, he saw that hand pull out a strange bag. It was clear as glass, but moved like cloth, and inside sloshed a thick, white liquid. Only it wasn't white. It was very nearly white. Cream, one might call that shade.

"1.3 liters of Canada's finest." The Chet said with the glee that Gorinfel recognized as his own, in a moment six centuries past when he dangled an invisibility cloak in front of some wizard or another. "Whaddya say?"

Gorinfel looked up at the bag of cream. 1.3 liters was a lot and those were presently very, very big liters. It was a momentary lapse, but it was enough. Gorinfel grabbed the bag greedily, it's size remaining stable now that it was free of the Chet's grasp. With a poke of one faun-like horn, Gorinfel made a hole and began to sup in absolute delight.

It was, indeed, Canada's finest.

"Thank you." The Chet said, offhandedly, like one might say "good day".

"You're welcome." Gorinfel replied equally offhandedly, his attention fully on his repast. He enjoyed that repast for a full three seconds more before his thoughts caught up with his words.

"I'll get my stuff." The Chet said.

"Roomie."

You know how people sometimes get a cat by just having a random stray cat with no collar and no chip walk in and sit on the couch like "yo fucknuts I live here now", and the people just go "well fuck, guess I gotta go get a litterbox then."

Now consider: Humans doing that to the fae. Not being captured by the fae folk, not taken against their will but stubbornly walking in to their realm and refusing to leave before one of them agrees to take this damn creature. Faeries telling each other "naww come on, you can't make it leave, it already ate your food. Everyone knows you gotta keep them if you've fed them."

And another faery yells back "I did not fucking feed that thing, it climbed into my pantry and was eating flour straight out of the bag!"

[shipping-all-ships]

Want to do a Corpse Bride gemshipping AU but you KNOW the instant TKB rises up from the grave with his "I do" Ryou is gonna say "jackpot" and throw the whole movie plot out the window.

[luvr-bunnyy]

fresh set

FEZCO x FEM!READER

word count: 833 w

© luvr-bunnyy pls don't use my headers or writing without permission

Warnings: suggestive sexual content, NO SPOILERS!

[a/n: i got this idea cause i just got my nails done and i’m a WHORE for fez but like...who isn’t? anyways!! thank you for all the love for ‘anything for my princess’ i will def have a ton more lexi content in the future!! enjoy this short fic <3 - yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´- ]

Fez loved spoiling you.

It was that simple. You saw a pair of shoes you liked? It’s yours. New clothes? Don’t trip ma, he’s got you.

His all time favorite thing to spend a quick buck on? Acrylics.

It was his favorite day of the week. Every two weeks on a Thursday afternoon. It was like clockwork. He’d take you to the salon and wait the hour and a half just to see the masterpiece on your finger tips.

Another thing he LOVED to buy you was jewelry. Rings specifically.

He couldn’t wait to see how you’d pair them with your new nails. He also loves seeing your fresh set against his chest or how a blunt looked in between your fingers.

The sound they made as you typed out a text on your phone. Seeing you grip the sheets as he plowed into you…

His all time favorite, you might be wondering? Seeing your hand wrapped around his dick. It drove him wild. The sight of your pretty nails contrast against his skin…fuck.

And today was that day.

His phone buzzed with a notification.

baby mama

all done !!

baby mama

i’ll be right out

He smiled, shaking his head before looking up through the windshield. Watching you through the glass double doors as you smiled at the receptionist, handing them the crisp $100 bill that he had given you before you walked in.

As you walked out, you met his eyes. Those beautiful pools of blue looked at you with so much love, it made your heart flutter.

Making your way into the car, you faced him with an excited smile, hiding your hands from him.

“Well come on then, pretty mama. Show ‘em to me.”

You gladly placed your hand into his awaiting palm. “Damn baby, these are some bad ass mother fucking claws!”

You blushed as he brought your hand up to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles

Fez dropped you off at his place to look after Ash while he tended to his convenience store and he had been absolutely exhausted as he closed up but as he walked through the threshold of the apartment, all stress vanished from his shoulders.

You were sat on the couch in sweats and a hoodie that was most definitely his with Ash laying next to you, his little shaved head resting on a pillow near your thighs

Ash loved when you got your nails done too because that meant heavenly head scratches.

Not that he’d ever admit it, since he wasn’t one for physical affection but he would NEVER turn down your offer of head scratches. It was like a cardinal sin to him.

You dropped your head back onto the head rest of the couch and smiled softly at Fez as he walked over, leaned over your head and placed in upside down kiss on your lips.

“He asleep?”

“Like a baby.” You responded fondly, running a hand over Ash’s buzzed head, heart warming as he sleepily nuzzled into your touch.

Making his way to the kitchen, he paused at the sight on the kitchen table. The haphazardly rubber banded stacks of money he had scattered on its surface were gone.

“Hey ma?” He called, not really waiting for you to respond. “Where’s all my cash?”

“Oh! I counted it for you and put it away in the safe. The amount should be written somewhere on the table!” You called back.

That’s when he saw a little post-it stuck to the weathered wood surface of the table. The amount written in your familiar chicken scratch.

He heard your footsteps trail up behind him. “And Ash wanted that enchilada casserole I brought you guys once so I made some. It’s in the oven to keep it war-“

You blinked and his lips were on yours, the slightly rough palms were delicately holding your face. Knees weakening at the emotion behind the kiss.

Pulling away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you.” there was a small beat before he continued. “I was only gone a few hours but I missed you.”

“Yeah? D’you have a stressful day baby?” What he hadn’t expected was for you to press him against the kitchen counter. “How about I help you out then?” Your hand moved down to unbutton his jeans, reaching in and palming him over his Polo briefs.

The moan that escaped his throat was low and quiet, almost like a sigh. “Fuck…” He felt himself twitch as he felt your nails lightly raking over his clothed and aching cock.

He watched you slowly sink to your knees, keeping eye contact as you did so. Settling down on your heels, you leaned forward and tugged the rest of his clothing down, kissing his exposed hips as you did so.

“God damn ma…” He moaned, hand gripping your hair before he looked down and admired the way your fresh manicure looked wrapped around him and it took everything in him not to bust then and there.

—-

“Eww seriously guys! We fucking eat in there!” Ash stood up from the couch. Eyes squeezed tight and hands covering his ears, rushing to his room. “Y’all are fucking nasty!”

[dysfunctionalmaki]

To Realize

Main Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: Natasha's been connecting all the dots about how she feels about you, it's up to her to how she'll handle the situation.

A/N: This was supposed to be a oneshot until... I wanted to base it on the whole Black Widow movie :"))

Warnings: none, let me know if there's any.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Your last interaction with your father didn't go well, he simply told you that Secretary Ross is now after you and Natasha after helping Steve, and Bucky to get in the Quinjet while T'challa was after them.

Quickly tackling the king of Wakanda on the ground, while Natasha shot something at him to give Rogers and his friend time to take off, as soon as the jet flew away, you removed your arms that are restraining him.

"Your father will hear about this, and you too Miss Romanoff." The exact words that came out of T'challa, and now you're on the run with Natasha, considered as a global fugitive.

Your father looked at you with disappointment when he mentioned that Ross will be chasing you and the latter, you looked at Natasha before she took your hand and leading you out, taking you to who knows where.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"You miss your daddy?" Natasha spoke while driving, you chuckle at her words then resting your head against the car window. "Hmm, kinda, so what are we doing here in Norway?" You ask the latter.

"Well, you've noticed that Ross is after our asses after assaulting the King of Wakanda, and helping Steve and Barnes escape the airport, I believe we should lay low, right?" She propped her elbow by the window, resting her head on her knuckle as she drives with one hand. "Oh? I didn't know that." You replied sarcastically, making Natasha roll her eyes.

"What I mean is, why Norway of all places?" Now you're kindly asking, arms crossed over your chest and slowly drifting off to sleep, exhausted after hours of traveling, without Daddy's private planes, sports car, and Quinjet also.

Natasha noticed how your voice softens, a long yawn coming out of your mouth, and quickly glancing at you. "Ross has no jurisdiction here, his boys would stay away from here for the time being." She answered, you softly nodded and replied with an 'okay' almost a whisper with how silent it was.

In a split second, you're already fast asleep at the passenger seat, both arms hugging yourself and your head resting against the window. Nat maintained her eyes on the road as she attempts to reach for a blanket she stashed in the backseat, after few shifts in her place, the Russian managed to grab the cloth.

She gently placed the soft blanket over you, and now focusing herself on driving, for some reason, she has always felt this warm feeling in her heart when she's alone with you, adoration maybe?

Your peaceful state while you're in deep slumber, and hearing your soft snores as she admires the view of the landscape, she would offer everything she has just to stay like this most of the time.

The thought caught her off-guard, why would she want to spend all of her time with her friend's daughter? She shrugged the thought off from her mind, she knows what love feels like, she felt it with Bruce until Hulk decided to drive off somewhere they won't find him.

She did get sad because of it, but she chose to move forward and move on, successfully removing any romantic feelings for Banner, focusing on her work as an Agent and an Avenger.

But why is she feeling this way with you? Her heart melts when she sees you getting all excited when you've successfully upgraded your techs, how she would automatically smile when her eyes would catch you smiling, and how she feels warm when you're there to ease her mind when a mission didn't go as planned.

She's now connecting the dots, using the silence and peace surrounding her, she got time to think about herself and her feelings towards Tony Stark's daughter.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

After half an hour of the drive, you slowly wake up from your nap, looking around the surroundings you're in the middle of the woods, Natasha's still driving. "Good uhh... Evening?" You greeted Nat with your groggy voice.

Natasha stopped the car beside the safehouse, which is a caravan and you don't mind, you can't really call your father to get you a 5-star hotel to stay in. "Did you manage to replenish your energy?" She asked, unbuckling her seat belt and you did the same.

Getting out of the car, she has her gun out and you also have one on your hand, staying alert until both of you heard a loud snore in the room. Natasha immediately returned to her relaxed posture before heading into where the sound belongs, and she found her contractor sleeping.

Kicking his foot that is off the bed, the man immediately woke up. "You're sleeping in my bed." Natasha commented, "I'm not even under the covers." He replied, then his eyes trail at you, awkwardly looking away noticing that the two seemed close.

"I've got what you asked for, fake IDs, drivers licenses, and some VISAs, also for Miss Stark too, just like what you've told me to do." He says as he handed out the fake identifications to Natasha, while reading, the Russian frowned upon what she just read. "Really? Fanny Longbottom?"

"That is a legitimate name." He defended himself, them Natasha handed your fake IDs, taking a good look at them and you're amazed about how real they seem to be. "Thank you...?" You softly spoke.

"Rick, Rick Mason." He introduced himself, and you shook his hand also introducing yourself, with little chit-chat soon after the man left leaving you and Natasha alone.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

An hour has passed it's already dark out, you're currently sitting by the front door, knees up to your chest, and you already felt homesick, Natasha's company is nice honestly, but the feeling of being far away from your father and home sucks.

Natasha looks at you while you're way too busy gazing at the woods, she knows you aren't used to this type of setup, running away from authorities, and far from home, she felt bad for you.

She walks up behind you, making sure you're aware of her presence before placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm going to watch a movie on my laptop, feel free to join me, I'm also eating the ice cream we bought at the convenience store earlier." She softly spoke before leaving you alone.

Minutes after, you finally stood up from where you are sitting and closing the front door, almost dragging your way to Natasha. Two bowls of ice cream in front of her, and her laptop already on, she was waiting for you.

You placed yourself beside her, head resting on her shoulder then she plays the movie on the screen, lazily taking a spoonful of the cold treat in your mouth, and eyes glued on the screen, but you weren't paying attention to the movie, you're spacing out.

"Hey, Y/N? Are you okay?" Of course, not, Natasha knows damn well you aren't okay, she thought that it's a dumb question. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" You answered just like your father, she paused the film and causing you to look at her. "No, you're not okay, and that's okay." She says before taking you into her arms.

You're surprised actually, Natasha isn't usually the one who initiates physical contact but here she is, her arms wrapped around your body. You needed this, you needed to feel home and somehow being hugged by Natasha feels like it.

Burying your face at her shoulders then you knew you're melting in her arms, it almost brought the tears out of you, as if her touch is enough the lift the burden you've been feeling.

Natasha feels like home.

You try not to think anything about the affection she just gave, but damn, you think you'd go batshit crazy if you won't get to experience this again.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Let's be clear here, you've had a crush on Natasha while she's still Natalie, then as soon as Fury revealed that she is some secret agent, you were so amazed that you started liking her, though she didn't contact after that.

You weren't part of the Avengers initiative, but you did join them in the battle of Sokovia, but she and Banner have a thing going on, so you've decided to set those feelings aside. Which you successfully did for a few months, and after Bruce flying who knows where maybe you can make a move?

So you did, you would jokingly flirt around Natasha, and your father would give a questioning look then you slowly back away, but you were also a great friend to Nat, it's just that you can't seem to get all romantic with Natasha.

Just as much of a playboy your father is, that's all his, you suck at this type of thing, so Nat probably thought you're just a caring and affectionate person.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

You gently pull away from Natasha's grasp, and she looks at you with her emerald eyes. "Better?" She asked, placing a hand on your cheek softly caressing your skin. "Much better, thank you." She smiled with your answer, the next thing you know is that you're way too close to her, and you're looking at her plump lips.

This would be a perfect time to make a move.

You hold the back of her hand that is on your cheek, slowly closing in, and Natasha is leaning closer, so near that you could feel each other breathing, just when your lips were about to touch hers... the power died.

Nat cleared her throat and awkwardly moving away, removing her hand away from you and she stood up. "I'm just going to check the power generator." She says before going outside.

Her face turned red as soon as she was out of your sight, she got way too vulnerable with you, she almost kissed you but she sure knows she's going to like it but no, not at a time like this.

She tried to get the power back on, only to find that there's no more fuel in the generator, she came back inside finding you eating ice cream in the corner, and probably waiting for her to come back.

"I'm going to a gas station, do you want to come with me?" She asked, you nodded before getting off your ass and bringing yourself into her car, there's this awkward tension between the two of you, and as soon as she started driving, the silence swallowed the two of you.

"Can I turn the radio on?" You asked her, she simply nodded while eyes fixated on the road, you played the radio, and Sia's Cheap Thrills came on. "Damn, even here? When is this song going to die?" You commented.

Natasha taps her fingers on the steering wheel according to the beats, despite hearing the song over and over whenever you would turn on the radio, you still liked it.

Midway through the song, you felt chills on your body, and as soon as you look at the window beside you, suddenly you see an RPG heading towards the car.

"Nat—" Before she could react it has already hit the car causing an explosion, now the vehicle is hanging on the edge of the bridge, and with one wrong move it'll head straight down to the water. "Ooh, fuck that hurts." Hissing as you try to collect yourself and trying to fight the headache it caused.

Natasha on the other hand is in pain and boy, she's mad. "I'm pretty sure Ross has no jurisdiction here, and you should know that I'm a better shot when I'm pissed off," Nat spoke before firing few bullets at the person, you look at her and biting your lip, finding her hot.

"Wow, that's hot..." You spoke under your breath but Natasha heard, glaring at you. "Really? At a time like this?" She says, before heading out of the car when you tried to get out Nat stopped you. "How long can you hold your breath?" She asked. "Last time I beat Sam it was a good 4 minutes and a half."

"As soon as this psycho comes close enough, I'll push you into the water, it's not after us." She says you look at her as if she's speaking lies. "Nat, I'm not leaving you here–" before you could protest, you felt her lips against yours it was quick but you know damn well, that Natasha kissed you.

"I'll meet you down there, I promise." She says before a shield comes charging towards her, and managed to avoid it, yet it hit the car, now you're falling off the bridge and you suddenly noticed a small case on her hand.

You quickly got out of the car before it could hit the water, then you swam heading to safety where the one who ambushed wouldn't see you.

Closing your eyes hoping that Nat would come back to you in one piece, there's no way you'll let her die after kissing you, of course, you wanted to fight but your body just wouldn't.

You can't risk losing Natasha now.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Next Part: To Remember

[from-a-reckless-writer]

dove down my rabbit hole of wips and one of my wips isnt a wip anymore! so here, have some gay shit....

“Kelly wants to get married in the woods, I want to get married in Midvale. So, apparently, our wedding will just happen via Zoom. Her in the woods, me at the beach. Ain’t that just fucking grand?”

Alex comes through the door like a hurricane covered in leather. Her helmet lands on Kara’s counter loudly. Her keys haphazardly thrown somewhere in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Then have two weddings.”

Alex follows the voice and her eyes zero in on her sister’s best friend.

Lena is sitting on the floor of Kara’s apartment, wearing an oversized sweater. Her dark hair spilling down her shoulders softly. A hand wrapping around a wine glass, the other typing on her laptop, not even jumping in the slightest at the commotion that is Alex’s entrance.

Alex plops down on the couch sighing loudly, not even batting an eye at this utterly domestic scene that is her sister washing the dishes with Lena Luthor on the floor of her apartment.

Lena doesn’t comment at the Danvers’ Sisters antics and Alex doesn’t call them out on the ridiculousness that Lena and Kara are still keen on keeping up.

The three of them already well desensitized to one another’s preferred brand of bullshitery.

“You know, sometimes I forget you're a rich-ass bitch and then you say shit like that and suddenly, I remember,” Alex says, smoothly snatching the wine from Lena’s hand.

She finishes the entire glass in one gulp and Lena rolls her eyes. Alex had finally proposed to Kelly the other week and well, that meant this week all of them had fallen victim to the Olsen-Danvers wedding debacle. It seems today isn’t the day that that whole dilemma is going to stop.

The wedding, of course, was still a few months away, but both parties were stressing about it as if it was going to happen immediately the next day.

Kara swoops in then, mussing up Alex’s hair, earning her an annoyed Hey stop it! before putting down another wine glass and pouring for Lena. Her arms are still wet from washing the dishes.

Lena murmurs her thanks and continues what she was saying, “Well, since you’ve finally remembered that I’m a billionaire. Let me pay for two weddings.”

Alex chokes on the wine.

“What? You’re kidding me, right?”

Lena continues typing, ignoring Alex’s shock, you’d think she didn’t just offer to pay for a wedding.

“Well, I mean, I’m never gonna get married,” Lena explains, “but if you let me do this, I can brag around that I’ve paid for two weddings. Not to mention I’m gonna make two brides very, very happy.”

“Or,” Kara interjects, lowering herself on the opposite side of the couch, perfect for Lena to lean back between Kara’s legs and lay her head on the side of her thigh. “You can just wait for Kelly to get here,” Kara says, pointedly. “Talk it out like normal adults and reach a compromise.”

Kara’s hands start to snake their way from Lena’s hair to Lena’s shoulders, massaging, all too aware that Lena won’t stop whatever it is she’s working on on her laptop till everybody gets here.

Lena lets herself melt and closes her eyes, sighing as Kara’s fingers dip at the junction of her neck and shoulder with just the right amount of pressure.

“I don’t wanna get married in the woods, Kara.”

Lena opens one eye to take a peek at Alex, who looks exasperated, her eyes pleading, gulping down another glass of wine.

“Don’t tell me,” Kara replies. “Tell Kelly.”

“The bugs, Kara,” Alex moans. “Imagine the bugs, and the moss and the ughhh.”

She dramatically thumps the back of her head on the couch.

“Imagine the soil. Clumpy wet soil. Eurgh. Ew. What if I fall face first in that? What if I trip over a stupid tree root in my heels? In my wedding dress?!”

“Alex, you don’t even have a dress yet,” Kara deadpans.

“I thought you were gonna wear a suit,” Lena adds.

“You two suck.” Alex pouts.

****

The rest of their friends arrive and Kara finally succeeds in prying Lena’s work laptop away from her. Alex was already teasing the line from tipsy to drunk by the time Kelly comes through the door.

“Let’s get married in Vegas!!!!” Is how Alex decides to greet her fiance.

Kelly laughs, gives her a peck then answers, “As much as that sounds like a very convenient wedding, I don’t think Eliza would appreciate that, baby.”

Alex frowns at being rejected, sags against the couch and crosses her arms. Why does Kelly always have to be right?

“How much has she had to drink?” Kelly turns to Kara.

“Uhh ask Lena. She made her switch to whiskey.”

Lena—who Kelly thinks was way too busy nuzzling against Kara’s neck to even answer her question—mumbles something that sounds like “S’was just two glasses.”

Kelly just shakes her head, makes Alex drink a glass of water. Her ring making a clink against the glass.

“Alright, what if,” Nia sing-songs, eyes sparkling with mischief, “we just settle this whole wedding thing with Charades?”

Nia claps her hands together like some gameshow host and Kelly takes a deep breath through the nose.

She’s been to enough Game Nights to know where this is headed.

Everybody else was intoxicated enough to accept the suggestion as a grand idea, not at all even thinking that: Hey, isn’t this something we should all take seriously?? Maybe ask the brides what they want, maybe???

Kara nods enthusiastically, agreeing immediately, “Oh!! That’s a great idea! Fun and fair at the same time!”

“Olsen vs. Danvers. Brides get to pick their teams.”

Nia pulls a white board out of nowhere, uncaps a marker and writes “Team Danvers”, “Team Olsen” separated by a neat line in the middle.

“Are we really letting Nia take charge of our wedding venue?" She hears Alex whisper from where she has her tucked at the crook of her neck.

Kelly sneaks a glance at the chaos happening before their eyes; Brainy already claiming to be on Kelly’s team, J’onn shaking his head opting to be the game scorer instead and refusing to participate, somebody’s shouting about: NIA, DREAM PROJECTIONS AT CHARADES IS CHEATING!!!!

Guess this is their life now.

Kelly smirks, boops Alex on the nose and says, “Scared you’ll lose, Danvers?”

****

Alex loses by three points.

“How was I supposed to know you were gesturing 'Transformers'!?!” She barks at Kara, throwing her hands in exasperation.

“I pointed at Nia!” Kara huffs, incredulous at the fact that her sister is blaming her.

Nia lost them a point too!

“What does Nia even have to do with it???” Alex’s voice grows higher in pitch. Her brows furrow in a mix of confusion and frustration.

“Trans, Alex. Trans.”

“Oh my God,” Alex groans. “How are you this dumb?”

And that was the story of how Kelly got her dream wedding.

****

The frenzy finally dies down, some time between Nia making up another drinking game and J’onn making her sit back down. A movie that none of them were watching provides a background noise to the almost lazy atmosphere. Kelly and Alex were pressed close on the far end of the couch, enjoying the temporary quiet.

“Guess we’re getting married in the woods, huh?” Alex murmurs.

“I guess we are,” Kelly whispers back. Alex beams at her, grinning dopily at the thought of finally getting the ending they deserve. It would be the perfect day, she has no doubt about that. No matter where they are. It would be perfect because they got there together.

Alex can’t wait.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.”

Alex continues to smile stupidly, nudges her nose to Kelly’s.

“Just— I don’t really care where we get married, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” Kelly raises an amused brow at her.

“Mm-hm. So long as you’re the one walking down the aisle.”

Alex presses their lips together, breathes Kelly in deep and for the first time that night, she feels that the future isn’t so scary, even though there is still a very large possibility that she might trip over a tree root on her wedding day.

Somebody interrupts their kiss.

“She’s only saying that ‘cos she lost.”

“Shut up, Luthor.”

****

“Text me when you get home!”

Lena hears Kara call loudly after her sister, before closing the door. Game Night has officially ended and as usual she’s still here. She’ll always be here, she thinks for a brief moment. The thought holding more depth than it should.

Kara didn’t even question her when everybody began filing out and Lena just started picking up the discarded dirty plates and walking them to the sink. They’re well past the point of asking each other if the other would stay over.

It was already some unspoken rule.

Already well past the point of Lena wanting to ask Kara what the hell it is they’re doing.

She’s bent over the sink, scrubbing—Kara doesn’t own a dishwasher for the sole reason that she finds doing the dishes therapeutic—when Lena takes a glance over her shoulder.

Kara is sitting on a high stool near the counter, casually flicking through her phone. It was Lena’s turn to do the dishes tonight. Once upon a time her doing the dishes would have resulted in a fight. “I can superspeed the dishes. Why would you even want to do them?” A statement that would be met with an eye roll.

Kara has learned not to fight her on it again, after around the 7th time that Lena had stubbornly insisted and Supergirl got doused with dishwashing liquid.

And now, it’s become some sort of routine, Kara does the dishes after lunch and Lena does the dishes after dinner. Oh, how the paparazzi would kill for this—Lena Luthor Knows What A Sponge Is?

“Is it true when you told Alex you’re never going to get married?”

Kara decides to break their quiet.

“Yeah, pretty certain about that one, why?” Lena turns around, cocks a curious brow. If she’s being honest she’s beyond certain that she’s not going to get married. She always jokes about how she’s married to L-Corp but it isn’t till now that she realizes how true that is, and...how lonely.

“I don’t know,” Kara murmurs, not meeting Lena’s eyes. “I just like the idea of you getting married, I guess.”

“What?” Lena chuckles at that; genuinely confused but still curious.

“Well, I mean—” Kara wobbles through her words.

“I guess, I just— I like the idea of you walking down the aisle...in a white dress,” Kara muses.

Then, “Or a suit!!” she quickly amends. “If you wanna wear a suit, that is. That can totally be arranged, you know?” Kara waves her hand around and it’s like now that she’s started, she can’t stop.

And Lena’s just standing there, water still dripping from her elbow, unsure of how to feel about Kara imagining her getting married. Quite an incredulous scene isn’t it? Her getting married? What a crazy thing to say, an even crazier scenario to imagine!

She snaps out of it, realizing Kara’s still rambling.

“I have no objections whatsoever with that, if you wanna wear a suit. And yeah, you know? I just— I like that idea. I like the idea of you dancing to your wedding song. The idea of you exchanging your vows, the idea of you-”

“Kara,” Lena decides to put a stop to it, since it’s clearly evident Kara won’t be stopping any time soon. And Lena's feeling way too many things that she doesn’t want to feel at the moment. She’s sure that she’s going to feel more, if she doesn’t put a stop to it herself.

“I’m well aware that it’s the best friend’s job to help with the bride’s wedding,” She says, “but, darling don’t you think you’re putting just a bit too much effort into this? Certainly seems like you’ve thought about it a lot.”

At that, Kara’s cheeks turn a light pink, squirming sheepishly under Lena’s questioning gaze.

Shouldn’t Kara be thinking about her own wedding? How beautiful she would look walking down the aisle. How her blonde hair would look so nicely with her dress. How happy she would finally be after finding someone she could share her life with. Not that Lena's been thinking about those kinds of things. No, of course not. That’d be hypocritical of her at this point. Why would she even— Why were they even talking about this again???

Lena tries to rein in it, tries to focus on Kara again; hands finally finding a dry towel, hesitantly walking into Kara’s space to hear the blonde more clearly.

“Well, I mean- Like I said, I do really like the idea of you getting married,” Kara repeats herself slowly.

And before Lena can come any closer, “Like the idea of you getting married…to me. More specifically,” Kara adds more quietly.

“What?”

Lena stands frozen.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard y- Kara, did you just?”

Lena’s heart is pounding away in her chest. Did she hear her right? Did Kara really just—

Lena’s a step away from her and Kara uses this to her advantage. She pulls Lena closer, tugging at her wrist, the towel dropping from Lena’s hands. Kara summons enough willpower to stare into Lena’s eyes.

“I like the idea of you getting married to me, Lena Luthor.”

“Kara, I’m sorry- What?” Lena jerks away from her, the words finally landing.

“Is that a no?”

Kara lets her go. She can’t focus on Lena’s heartbeat to assess the situation more. Kara’s own heart is betraying her, drumming so loudly in her ears.

“Uh- no, that's definitely not a no?” says Lena hesitantly, eyes wide, breathing nervously. She turns away from Kara for a minute to take a breath, hands fidgeting about.

She whirls around again to face, mutters, “You do realize marriages are for people who are—”

She pauses.

How do you exactly phrase that wedding proposals are for people who are actually in some kind of romantic relationship? And not for people who casually stay over every goddamn Thursday without fail?And okay, maybe sometimes, in a much different reality, would willingly commit fratricide to save the other? And in an also much different reality, willingly expose a secret identity to save the other?

Lena can’t find the right words.

“Oh, I don’t know, Kara,” Lena scoffs, shaking her head disbelievingly. “Marriage is for people who are actually dating each other.”

Kara takes her sarcasm as a good sign and pulls her in again.

“Well,” Kara begins. She can hear Lena’s heart thumping erratically, now that Kara’s gotten her bearings.

“We can always have our first date after the wedding, right?”

Aren’t they well past the point of dating anyway?

She’s got Lena standing between her legs now, her hands wrapping around her waist.

“First date and honeymoon all in one. That sounds great, doesn’t it? I can fly you wherever you want, Paris, Maldives, hell I even have a Fortress in the Arctic, if you’re into that.”

Lena stares at her, blinks once, twice; shakes her head and lets out a noise between a laugh and a scoff.

“Kara Zor-El, you are one ridiculous woman,” She breathes, putting a hand on Kara’s cheek. Because what else is there to say? This whole conversation really is ridiculous. But at the same time Lena feels like she’s floating? Like this may be the best moment of her life, and of course, it’s going to be ridiculous. This is Kara she’s dealing with, after all.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do if Kara reveals this to be just some sort of joke.

But the way her blue eyes are piercing through Lena’s, so earnest and so warm, argues otherwise.

“So, what do you say? Wanna get married?”

“Are you serious right now?” Lena asks, still unbelieving. This is beyond crazy. They’ve fought aliens and monsters and traveled through time but this? This is just beyond crazy.

“Lena, do I look like I’m joking? And besides, you’d already offered to pay for two weddings, why not pay for our two weddings, instead?”

She shakes her head again, let’s herself fall closer to Kara, lets out a laugh against her neck.

“Mm. You want a Kryptonian ceremony too?”

“Yeah.” Kara’s voice turns shy. “If that’s alright by you.”

“Of course, that’s alright by me. I’d be honored.”

Her heart feels more than full at the thought of Kara wanting to share that part of her with Lena. She’s always had some doubts whenever the topic of Kara’s Kryptonian heritage arises, always half-afraid she’s overstepped on something that isn’t hers.

But looks like there was nothing to fear all along.

“So, we’re getting married, huh?” Kara wiggles her brows, her face breaking into a wide grin.

“Yes. Mm-hm,” Lena hums against her. “I do. I’d marry you. Let’s get married.”

“Seal it with a kiss?"

****

“Hi.”

Lena blearily opens her eyes, follows the soft voice, her bare back being caressed by the sun filtering through Kara’s curtains.

“Hi,” She whispers back. All this feels much too like a fever dream. She’s half-tempted to pinch herself just to check. She’s woken up beside Kara a million times before but she’ll never get used to the sight of soft golden hair and sleepy blue eyes.

Kara gives her a soft peck and the feel of her lips sends Lena reeling.

The previous night was a whirlwind in her mind’s eye. The moment Lena murmured her 'Yes, please.', Kara kissed her passionately. Once they broke away, Kara had zipped around the apartment, Lena too dazed to even ask what it was Kara was looking for.

She watched as Kara tore off a keychain from one of her bags, curled the keyring to fit Lena’s finger and whispered, “This’ll do. For now.”

Kara had kissed her knuckles reverently, her lips making Lena’s blood sing in her veins. The feel of mangled metal fitted just for her left hand is an imprint on her soul. A promise of more to come.

They didn’t make it out of the kitchen the first time. Kara had lifted her by the waist and set her down on the kitchen counter. Which was a good thing, because Lena couldn’t feel her legs after.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom the second time either. She had tackled Kara onto the couch, pinning her wrists together, licking at the shell of Kara’s ear. “My turn now,” Lena had whispered. The way Kara shivered underneath her was enough of a reward. How long had they been waiting for this?

Flashes of last night had her hips bucking slightly unto Kara’s leg sandwiched between her own, but before it could escalate further...

“I have exciting news to share,” Kara tells her.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Kara hums, now nosing at Lena’s hair.

“What is it?” Lena asks.

“I’m getting married.”

“Oh you are?” Lena plays along.

“Yes. I’m getting married to my best friend,” whispers Kara, almost conspiratorially. “How cool is that?”

Kara looks giddy with excitement and Lena knows she’s mirroring that exact same expression right now.

“Mm. Very cool, darling.”

Kara giggles and they trade more lazy kisses before Lena breaks away to breathe.

“Quite a coincidence though,” Lena husks out against Kara’s lips.

“Oh really? Why?” Kara asks, tries to keep a serious neutral face despite her nose scrunching up in that cute smile that Lena can’t resist

“I’m also getting married,” Lena confides, “To my best friend," she adds, eyes flashing. "Isn’t that great?”

“Very great.” Kara nods slowly, blonde hair falling into her face, a hand running through dark tresses.

“I love you,” Lena whispers, her lips brushing Kara’s softly.

“I love you, too.” Kara kisses her harder then, her hands lazily wandering along Lena’s skin.

They lie there quietly for a few moments, basking in the morning glow and then, “Alex will kill us.”

Lena snorts, twists in the sheets and says, “I think your sister is too busy planning her wedding to even think about plotting our murder.”

read follow-up here.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mind of a Child

Prompt: Ok so to make for all the Roman Angst I've requested heres some minor angst/fluff. Again I apologise for all the Roman Angst I've been requesting. Prompt: Roman was a mess. You see there's something that happens to sides if they reach a breaking point that they can't handle. Logan was lucky he finally realized it was time to talk about his feelings and look after himself after the wedding but Roman didn't. So after he sinks out from that awful conversation he finds himself beginning to feel really dizzy and as if he's getting younger and smaller. The next morning when Patton and Janus go to find Roman and comfort him they don't expect to see a five year old curled up in an oversized prince costume terrified to death. So there's only one solution to show how much all the sides value and care for their little Prince, help him destress and look after himself. - meltheromanstan

Fluff and angst time, m'dudes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, but it all gets cuddled better

Pairings: found family ain't going anywhere

Word Count: 6047

He wants to go back to the way it was.

He just wants to go back.

He just wants to be loved again.

He wants to go back to the way it was.

Roman sinks out and lands hard in his room, bashing his knee against the wall as he crumples to the floor. His hair protests as he tangles his hands in the strands and yanks, trying to think. He lies on the ground, frantically breathing but his lungs won’t inflate properly and his nose starts to burn. He feels nauseous. Is he sick? He turns on his back and it goes away. Humming. You’re supposed to hum when you feel like this. He starts humming something, some parody song that’s stuck in his head. The twitching in his gullet starts to recede only to be replaced by dizziness. Why is he dizzy? He’s on the floor.

His hands flop limply out to the side as he turns back and forth, trying to make sure that he can breathe, that it won’t hurt, what’s happening to him?

A small voice that sounds like a demented version of Remus—a more demented version of Remus—whispers that he deserves this.

But Roman doesn’t know anything anymore and he’s so tired and he just wants things to go back to the way they were.

When there wasn’t so much to worry about aside from making sure Thomas was happy and that he could dream.

When all he had to think about was not hurting Thomas with his dreams and making them good dreams.

When heroes were good and villains were bad and that was it.

He just wants to go back.

He just wants to be loved again.

The lights in his room are too bright. It hurts to keep looking up. So he won’t. He closes his eyes and the dizziness abates, just slightly. He lies on the floor, the cool wood pressing into his back. He lets his head flop from one side to the other. It’s impossible to get comfortable. It’s so loud. It’s so much. He wants someone here with him. He just wants to be told it’s okay. But it isn’t okay. It hasn’t been okay for a very long time.

He wants it to be okay again.

————————

The Mindscape is quiet. Hardly anyone makes a noise as they move about the rooms, some still too on edge to start making peace, some too nervous about sparking another disaster, some too confused to try and navigate the minefield they’ve all found themselves in.

But everything has to start somewhere.

Patton and Janus are the only two on…pretty much alright terms when the morning comes. Virgil is locked in his room. Remus’s brand of chaos is nothing helpful right now. So the two of them take a deep breath and go try to find Roman.

Patton took far too long to put the words to it and Janus would never admit it, but when Roman isn’t around, or when he’s not talking, it’s much harder to cut through the monotony of silence. For better or worse, the prince is impossible to look away from, impossible to ignore. And yes, maybe that has to do in part with how Creativity and the Mindscape work together, not to mention the manifestation of the Sides, but Roman is Roman. And if they’re going to start making any progress on getting back on their feet and getting back to normal, they need to get Roman back.

Patton probably thought that Roman would be easy to apologize to. Not just because it’s worked in the past—although Janus would hiss if he said that wasn’t part of it—but because he knows he’s the one who messed up. Roman likes sincerity, Patton knows what things went wrong, he knows he’s at fault here, a lot, and it won’t be as easy as one apology and everything will be fixed, but it would be a good start.

Janus knows Roman. For better or worse, he knows Roman. Knows what buttons to push, knows when not to push them—or so he thought—and knows that maybe, just maybe, he might be able to do what Patton can’t. Cite the good of the others, the good of Thomas, possibly even the good of Roman if he’s that stubborn. Or he’s a convenient punching bag if Roman needs to lash out before he can start putting the pieces back together if it needs to come to that.

But that’s not what happens.

What happens is Patton knocks lightly on the door and asks if Roman would let them come in. There’s no response. Janus speaks up, says he knows Roman is in there, please, they do just want to talk. Patton sets his hand on the door, just to rest there, maybe coax Roman to come to open it, when it swings open.

Their mouths run dry as it opens fully to reveal Roman’s costume on the floor in a heap.

And no Roman.

Janus muffles a curse and turns in a swirl of black fabric as Patton rushes inside, dropping to his knees by the abandoned costume and searching frantically for any sign of Roman.

What he finds makes him gasp.

Janus whirls around as quickly as he’d turned away to see Patton there, kneeling on the ground next to a tiny child clutching Roman’s sash like a red blanket.

“H-hey, kiddo,” Patton says carefully, trying to regain his composure, “what are you doing here?”

The child shuffles. “It’s my room.”

“This is Roman’s room,” Patton says as Janus carefully closes the door.

The child nods, rubbing the sash across his chin. Patton’s brows furrow as he watches the child’s gaze dart to Janus and back, then to Patton’s hands on his knees. He looks back up at Patton and clutches the sash tighter.

“Do you know where Roman is, kiddo?” The child nods but doesn’t make eye contact. “Can you tell me where?”

The child nods again but doesn’t say anything. The tip of Janus’s tongue starts to tingle. His eyes widen and he starts to walk over, raising his hands when the child’s gaze snaps to him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, crouching down to make himself a little smaller, “I’m just coming over to you.”

The child stays very still as Janus crouches down beside Patton. Janus tilts his head back and forth as he considers the way the child clings to the sash, the way he seems to be somewhat engulfed in the remains of the costume, and the way he keeps looking fearfully between Janus and Patton.

“…Roman?”

Roman’s gaze turns to him and Janus could cry.

“Wait—Roman?” Patton gasps and his hands fly to cover his mouth. “Oh, kiddo, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Don’t overwhelm him,” Janus warns under his breath as they watch poor Roman flinch a little. Patton takes a deep breath and softens his voice.

“Hey, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you. We won’t hurt you, we promise.”

Roman’s grip on the sash doesn’t waver but his eyes lose a little bit of their frightful sheen. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Janus takes off his glove, ignoring Patton’s look and—perhaps—the fact that Roman might not remember what this means. “I promise too.”

Roman looks back and forth between them. “…okay.”

Patton smiles and lets out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. He does have to restrain himself from reaching and pulling the cute little prince into his lap but Roman’s normally defined face is now all chubby cheeks and puppy dog eyes and—no. No.

“Are you okay, kiddo,” he asks instead, still careful to keep his voice soft, “are you hurt at all?”

Roman shakes his head, still clutching the sash.

“What about in here,” Janus asks, laying his hand on his head, then his chest, “or here?”

Before Roman can answer, however, his stomach growls loudly. Janus chuckles.

“That’s enough of an answer for me. Shall we get you something to eat, little prince?”

Roman shakes his head so hard he almost knocks himself over. “Not a prince!”

They both freeze.

Not…not a prince?

Roman is The Prince. He’s Princey. The Prince of Thomas’s Dreams.

“What do you mean, ‘not a prince,’ kiddo?”

“Not a prince,” Roman insists, staring at the ground, “couldn’t—I couldn’t be a prince so…I had to start over.”

Something tugs at a dark place in their chests. Patton glances at Janus. Janus shakes his head slowly.

“Okay, then, Roman,” he says instead, “but can we get you something to eat?”

Roman glances around at the mess of the costume around him. “Clothes?”

“I’m sure someone as creative as you can make as many clothes as you like,” Janus smiles, watching carefully to see Roman’s reaction.

Roman looks at Patton. “What do I make?”

Patton’s smile slips a bit. “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

Roman frowns. “But what do I make?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to tell me.”

Oh. Oh, dear. Patton’s smile fades, replaced with a slowly growing awareness of what’s going on. “You don’t need my permission, kiddo,” he says firmly, leaning down a little so Roman’s eye level is the same as his, “you are allowed to make what you want to make. What makes you happy.”

“What is that?”

Patton is going to cry.

“Why don’t you make what you think would be the most comfortable,” Janus tries, shooting a glance at Patton and laying a hand on his arm, “maybe to go downstairs and get something to eat in?”

Roman thinks for a moment, then he rubs the sash against his cheek and a t-shirt and shorts appear. But they aren’t red. They’re just grey. Janus smiles and stands.

“There you go,” he says, “well done.”

And oh, if the way Roman’s head jerks up in a quick moment of shameless eagerness doesn’t make that smile a little more sincere. He holds out a hand to the little one and Roman takes it, standing slowly as they begin to lead him out of his room.

“What would you like to eat,” Patton asks as they get Roman sat down, “how hungry are you?”

“What can I have?”

“Well,” Patton says as he starts to open and close cabinets, “we’ve got pasta if you want a full dinner, we’ve got crackers, cereal, pretzels, fruit, quite a lot of options.”

“…can I have pretzels, please?”

“One bowl of pretzels coming right up!”

Janus sits next to him as Roman begins to eat the pretzels. Patton comes to join them, sitting a little further away as to not crowd the poor kiddo. He exchanges a look with Janus as Roman continues to eat.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Janus looks up just as Virgil and Logan come down into the living room, talking between themselves. They trail off as they notice Janus staring at them.

“Can we help you?” Then Virgil’s eyes land on Roman. “Holy—“

He slaps a hand over his mouth and glares at Janus. Janus raises an eyebrow and slowly lets him go.

“Rude.”

“But necessary,” Janus says, folding his hands and drawing himself up. Virgil gives him a strange look but refocuses on Roman.

“So…who’s the kid?”

“I believe,” Logan says softly, the way Roman hasn’t looked up at them once and instead continues to eat pretzels almost mechanically not escaping him, “this is Roman.”

At the mention of his name, Roman looks up slowly, meeting Logan’s gaze with more than enough trepidation to set Virgil’s fingers buzzing. Logan tilts his head and waves a little. Roman just stares at him.

“Hello, Roman,” Logan says, still in that very soft voice, “it’s good to see you.”

Roman waves back. Then he glances down at the bowl of pretzels and twists his hands together.

“Are you full, kiddo?” Patton takes the bowl when Roman nods. “Good. I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

Roman glances around, shifting a little in his grey t-shirt. “Can I go back to my room now?”

“Of course you can,” Janus says, “would you like one of us to come with you?”

Roman shakes his head quickly. A little too quickly. But he’s been given permission to leave so he scoots off the chair and all but scrambles up the stairs. Logan watches him go, concern written over his features. Virgil waits to hear the soft click of his door shutting before rounding on the others.

“Why the hell is Princey a child?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Patton sighs, stretching a little and rubbing his face, “Janus and I just went up to try and talk to him and found him like that.”

“So it didn’t happen after the wedding?”

They wince and Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I may not have been there, but I know what happened. And no,” he says, raising his voice a little when both Patton and Janus try to say something, “I’m not interested in your excuses. But if you’re gonna try and tell me you don’t think it’s related I will throw a chair at your head.”

Patton bows his head, twisting his hands together in his lap as shame and guilt color his face. “He…he said something.”

“What did he say?”

“That he couldn’t be a prince,” Janus finishes, looking at the table, “and that he had to start over.”

Fuck.

“A-and he felt like he needed my permission for…everything,” Patton continues, “and Virgil, he looked so scared.”

“Of course he did.”

They turn to look at Logan, still staring up the stairs with gentle concern on his features. Virgil pokes his arm when he doesn’t continue right away.

“Roman’s sudden de-aging is likely due to stress,” he explains, looking back at them, “and thus the initial mindset he had when he regained consciousness as a child was fear. Fear of not knowing what to do or of doing something wrong.”

Patton gulps. Virgil shoots him a soft look and he nods slowly. “I…we were going to talk to him. We…I have been putting pressure on Roman since…it’s been a long time.”

“I think we all have.” Virgil’s gaze darts to Janus who is still all drawn up and inspecting his glove. “And you can turn that off, please.”

Janus sighs and Logan has to blink at how much his character shifts. Janus tugs nervously on his glove and straightens his hat.

“Roman is incredibly fragile right now and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Keeping that off around him is probably a good start.”

“We will need to ask Roman how much he remembers.” Logan adjusts his tie. “What he does remember will dictate how we need to help him.”

“Praise and reassurance.”

Logan raises an eyebrow at Janus who shuffles under his gaze.

“Praise and reassurance,” he repeats, tugging on his glove again, “he…he likes having a sense of structure. To know he’s doing something right.”

The regretful undertone to the words tells them all exactly how he knows that.

“We cannot let him believe that we are only behaving this way toward him because we believe he needs to be fixed,” Logan says firmly, “because that isn’t true. If this is a result of Roman feeling…unloved, then we must show him that he is.”

The word ‘unloved’ gets stuck in his throat and he clears it. Around him, the others are showing similar signs of discomfort.

Roman…their Roman. The idea that he wouldn’t feel loved—that he doesn’t feel loved sits strangely. Like a puzzle piece that just doesn’t fit, even though it has to go there.

While this lovely conversation is happening, of course, they’ve forgotten that there’s someone else who’s noticed the absence of a singing prince.

Remus doesn’t bother entering his brother’s room the normal way, instead sinking straight through the ceiling, fully intending to drive his elbow into Roman’s stomach.

What happens instead is he lands on Roman’s mattress with a dissatisfying thump as a tiny thing squeaks and scurries under the desk.

Remus sits up, frowning at the trembling figure underneath Roman’s desk and peers closer. Did Roman make a new pet for them to join on adventures? Is this one of the villagers that got too hurt and needed to be brought back here to recover?

Only when he sees the eyes peering shakily out at him do his own widen in realization.

“Roro?”

“R-Remus? Re?” And fuck, yeah, that’s Roman’s little head poking out from under there as he scrambles out. “Re? Are—are you back?”

Remus blinks. “Sure, Ro-Bro, I’m back, what—oof!”

A pint-sized pugilist rams itself into Remus’s stomach and knocks him backward onto the bed as his arms instinctively fly around the mass. He looks down, panting, only to see little Roro shaking with the effort of holding onto Remus as tightly as he can. His ribs are starting to protest when Roman turns his head and a cold nose tucks itself right into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey, hey, Roro,” Remus croaks, clumsily petting Roman’s head, “you’re okay. I’m right here, you got me good, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You—they said you were never coming back—everyone hated you, I—they made me say I didn’t like you—they said I was you but they don’t like you and I—I’m sorry—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your rolls and buns there, Roro, take in some oxygen before you pass out on me.” Remus wraps his arms gently but firmly around his now-panicking little bother—brother, pulling him securely into his lap. He has to pry Roman’s grip off of him a little but quickly reattaches the little limpet. “There you go, see? You got me! I’m trapped! I can’t go anywhere!”

His jokes don’t seem to work. If anything, Roman clutches him tighter, trembling in his hold.

“You gotta breathe for me, Ro-Bro, come on…in and out, you can do it.” Remus starts to take big slow breaths, feeling Roman start to copy him. “There you go, Roro. Just like that.”

Little Roman dissolves into a shaking and trembling puddle, cold nose buried in the crook of Remus’s neck as hot tears begin to trickle down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey, what’re those for? You’re safe, Roro, I gotcha, you got me, we got each other. We’re not playing right now, I’m not trapping you, what’s up?”

“Y-you’re—you’re back,” Roman wails, “you’re back, you’re back, don’t go—“

“I’m not going anywhere, Roro, I promise.” He gives Roman a light squeeze. “I’ve gotcha.”

Remus is very glad he actually washed his hands this morning as he begins to wipe away Roman’s tears. His hands are damp within moments but he keeps going, letting the little limpet wipe his nose on his costume and not giving a single flying fuck. Roman’s red nose keeps sniffling so Remus lays back against some of the pillows, heaving the little beast on top of him to have him settle down. Roman does, eventually, slumping into a sprawl all over Remus’s chest. Remus rubs his little brother’s back and nuzzles the top of his head.

“D’you want to tell me what this is all about, Roro?”

Roman mumbles.

“I can’t hear you, Ro-Bro, you gotta speak up.”

He can feel Roman’s throat work against him. “I couldn’t be the prince so I had to start over. Couldn’t—couldn’t do it right.”

“Do what right, Roman,” Remus asks, slowly tightening his grip on his brother again, “what couldn’t you do?”

“Kept messing up. Messed everything up.” Roman’s voice starts to choke off again. “Had—hadda make it right. Wanted to go back to—to—to—when it was okay.”

‘Okay.’

Yeah, nothing about this is ‘okay’ right now.

“Well,” Remus says, resolutely ignoring that for the time being, “why don’t we do something fun?”

Roman nods eagerly, pushing himself up so fast his hands slip and he falls face-first down on Remus’s chest again. Remus chuckles and helps him sit up.

“Wanna go into the Imagination?”

Roman’s smile falters. “We need permission.”

“No we don’t, we’re Creativity. That’s our domain. We run it, we decide when we get to go in!”

But Roman shakes his head stubbornly. “N-no, we—we have to ask first. And I don’t want you to get in trouble f-for me.”

“They can try and make me be in trouble,” Remus sniffs, “but it won’t go well for them.”

Roman looks up at him, expression changing as he slowly reaches up to cup his hands around Remus’s face. “I wanna be like you.”

Remus’s chest clenches. “You want my mustache?”

Roman makes a face. “No. I want—I want to be as sure as you are that nothing bad can happen. I want that.”

Ah, fuck. They had a joke going when they were—well, when both of them were smaller that Roman got the Ego, Remus got the Pride. He never—well, kids hold ideas and let them go. He tossed that one over his shoulder a long time ago. Roman, it seems, never did.

“Hey,” Remus says instead, reaching to cup Roman’s face in his hands, “you’ve got it, Roro. It’s yours too. You just gotta look for it.”

“But that’s hard.”

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” he says, fighting back a joke that he knows Roman won’t understand.

“…you’re really smart, Re.”

“Well—“ he chucks him lightly under the chin— “you’re the one that taught me that.”

Roman’s little face smiles and oh, Remus could rip his fucking thumbs off.

“If you don’t want to go into the Imagination we could always do something here.” Remus jumps off the bed and starts rifling through his ideas. Well, most of them aren’t…something he would do when Roman is this small. “…paint?”

There it is. Roman’s face lights up and he scrambles off the bed to join Remus. “Painting? Can we paint together?”

“Sure. One big canvas, let’s see, you wanna help make it?” They put their hands together and slowly draw a big rectangle in the middle of Roman’s room. “Good job, Ro-Bro, it’s just the right size.”

His brother almost glows at the praise. “Now all we need is—“

“Paint!”

They both turn to each other with their hands full of it. Roman has several bottles clutched in his little hands and Remus is juggling an armful of tubes. They drop them all over the floor and Remus rubs his hands together.

“What’re we gonna paint?”

“The canvas!”

“Yeah, I mean—“ Remus’s jaw drops open when Roman just pours paint onto his hand and smears it across the canvas— “whoa.”

Wrong reaction to have. But the second he sees Roman’s brilliant grin start to fade, he jumps straight on the fuck-that train and grabs another bottle. Soon they’re smearing paint all over the canvas. They end up creating a pretty good gradient of pinks and blues and reds and oranges and yellows. Then Remus grabs a green tube and just squirts it right onto the canvas.

“Hey!” Roman rubs his cheek. “You got paint on me!”

“I think you got paint on you.” Because when your brushes are your hands and you rub your face, paint goes onto your face.

“It was green! You put the green on me!”

Remus grins, bending closer and pretending to examine Roman’s cheek. “I dunno, Roro, I can’t see any green on there.”

Roman grabs a tube of red paint—

“Whoa, hey, there—“

—and squirts it onto the canvas. But mostly Remus.

“Oh, that’s it.”

The two of them spend the rest of the time splashing paint around, not caring about whether it gets on the actual canvas or the canvases they’ve made out of each other. Remus ends up with red splattered across his sash—not a bad look—and a bright blue handprint on his chest. Roman ends up with some green in his hair and streaks of purple down his arms. They’re laughing too hard to be spiteful about it as they chase each other around the canvas, each trying to get their hands on the other first.

If Roman never sees the others opening his door a crack, only to smile and leave them be when they see Remus and the paint with him, it’s perfectly fine.

Remus ends up using his size to his advantage and scooping the little monster up into his arms. He spins him around, laughing maniacally as Roman shrieks and squeals. He holds onto his brother’s arms, head thrown back as they whirl there.

“I win,” Remus pronounces as he sets Roman—carefully!—back down, “you lose.”

Roman giggles, reaching up to poke Remus’s nose with a bright red finger. “No, I win!”

“We both win.” Remus shakes his head only for some of his hair to stand straight on end—the only straight thing in this room—from the paint. “Uh…we should wash this off.”

Roman examines his paint-colored self, his gray shirt and shorts now absolutely awash with rainbow. “Yeah, probably.”

Remus looks at him and gently touches the fabric with his fingers. Roman’s eyes widen as the fabric changes from having paint on it to the colors being part of the fabric itself.

“Whoa! That’s so cool!”

Remus chuckles. “You’re welcome, Roro. Now let’s get cleaned up. I’m sure you’re gonna get hungry in a little bit.”

They make their way to the shower where Remus gets them out of their paint-covered clothes and squeaky clean. Roman’s eyes start to droop as Remus massages the shampoo into his hair.

“You can close your eyes, Ro-Bro, I gotcha.”

And if little Roman is so tired he can barely keep his eyes open long enough to put on pajamas after they get out of the shower, then Remus will happily carry him to bed. Of course the little limpet decides to latch onto him but there are worse fates. He resigns himself to being a personal pillow and stretches out, rubbing Roman’s back to help soothe him to sleep.

There’s a soft knock on the door and Logan eases it open. Remus has a quip on the tip of his tongue at the way the nerd’s expression melts at the sight of little Roro.

“Asleep, then?”

“Mhm.”

Logan glances at their painting. “I must say…it’s spectacular.”

Remus looks at the painting. An abstract swirl of colors and splatters that looks like the perfect chaotic nonsense. He’s more proud of it than expected too.

“He seems happy,” comes Logan’s soft voice, calling his attention back as he sits on the edge of the bed, “or…happier.”

Remus runs a protective hand down Roman’s back. “He said he missed me.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that…being suddenly reverted to an age where you two were together would—“

“No,” he says firmly, “he missed me. When he was big too, Lolo.”

Logan winces. “Oh, dear.”

“Has he told you why this…happened?”

“Not me explicitly, no.” Logan looks up and waits. “Did…did he tell you?”

“He said he wanted to go back to when everything was okay.”

Logan’s eyes widen. Oh. Oh, dear. “He…the last time he was okay…”

Remus’s sharp nod only confirms it. Logan lets out a breath as Roman’s hands twitch in his sleep. Unbidden, the impulse to reach out and squeeze comfortingly rises up sudden and sharp and he reaches out, covering the little one’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“He wasn’t supposed to get hurt,” Remus whispers, “when—when they took us away, they—they were allowed to do whatever they wanted to me, but—but not my brother.”

“Never again,” Logan promises low in his throat, touched by Remus’s sudden display of vulnerability, “you won’t be separated.”

Quite frankly, as he watches Remus tighten his grip on Roman, he’d like to see the others try.

As it turns out, that isn’t anywhere near their realm of possibility. When Roman wakes a little while later to them talking quietly with a rumble in his stomach, Remus carries him downstairs as Patton starts making dinner. Logan has to hide a smile at the way Virgil mouths ‘oh my god’ and Janus stuffs his fist up to his mouth to hide the coo. Patton clumsily answers Remus’s question about whose night it is to help—his—and gently asks Roman if he can set him down.

“You won’t go far?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen the whole time.”

“Here,” Virgil calls, holding out his arms, “I’m the softest thing in this room. Give him to me.”

He’s gonna regret that later but not right now. Not when little Princey is deposited into his lap and promptly snuggles right up to his chest and sighs. Virgil wraps his arms around little Roman and sits back against the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone as his breath warms the top of Roman’s head.

“V-Virgil?”

“Yeah, Princey?” Virgil winces when Roman tenses. “Sorry, sorry, I forgot. What is it, Roman?”

Roman’s hands clench and unclench in his hoodie. “Do…do you miss the other me?”

Well. Don’t start off easy or anything, kid.

Does he?

He’s gonna be honest, he does miss Roman. Misses the banter, misses the confidence, misses the warmth of walking into a room and seeing Roman there. He misses the feeling that Roman would always come up with something, even when things seemed hopeless he would be there to try.

But even though he’s had this Roman for two minutes, he already knows he’d miss him like a lost limb. This Roman, who is all clumsy affection and easy smiles and soft cuddles.

“I miss him,” he decides on eventually, “but you’re my Roman too.”

Roman’s little face is too cute. It’s illegal. Who allowed this?

“Your Roman?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says, giving the boy’s hair a gentle tug, “you’re our Roman.”

Roman’s hands tug gently again. “E-even if I’m not a prince?”

Ah. Virgil sits up a little and pulls Roman into his lap properly. “You were our prince because we thought that was what you wanted to be.”

“Even if I wasn’t good at it?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Virgil swallows the curses and pulls Roman into a tight hug, muttering into his shoulder.

“You were good at it, Roman,” he mumbles, “you were the best prince. You were the best prince because you were our prince. And you were our prince because you were Roman first.”

He can feel Roman’s jumpy little breaths before he’s hugged with a ferocity that takes him by surprise. But he’s not complaining.

“So I can be a prince?”

“If you want to be.”

There’s a pause during which Virgil pointedly does not make eye contact with Janus, before Roman speaks again.

“…I, uh, I think I’d be okay with the nickname, then.”

“Princey?” Roman nods and Virgil grins. “Okay, Princey.”

When he pulls back, there’s a little smile on Roman’s face that stays throughout dinner.

“Well,” Patton says as they start to clear the dishes away, “I’d say it’s a good night for a cuddle pile, wouldn’t you?”

“A splendid idea.” Logan closes the dishwasher. “Down here?”

“Might as well.” They start to organize, Logan directing the creation of the mattress and pillows, Patton and Virgil moving the blankets. Roman looks around for a moment, waiting, before Janus beckons him over to the last of the fading sunlight by the window.

“We,” he says gently as he coaxes Roman to lie down, “have the most important job.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re the ones that get tired first.” To prove a point, Janus lets himself yawn, big and wide. Sure enough, little Roman yawns too. “When Logan tells us all where to go, it’s our job to start being tired so the others have an easier way of settling.”

“That sounds like we have an excuse to fall asleep.”

“That too.”

Roman giggles and it makes Janus’s chest feel light.

“Come here, little prince,” he murmurs, opening his many arms to gather the little one to his chest, “there you are. You look tired, go ahead and close your eyes, it’s alright.”

Roman shifts a little in his grip. “…Janus?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Are…are you gonna take care of me?”

Janus pulls back a little, enough to cup Roman’s face in his hand. “Of course, sweetie, I will always take care of you.”

“N-no matter what?”

“No matter what.” He leans down to gently knock his forehead against Roman’s and press a chaste kiss there. “I’ve got you, little prince.”

The weight of the acts gone without acquittance sit heavily in his stomach, but with Roman cradled tenderly in his embrace, they start to get a little more bearable.

“Come on, cuddle bugs,” Patton calls, hands stroking gently through their hair, “let’s get you onto the mattress.”

Janus uncurls first, only for Roman to blink sleepily up at him.

“Do you need to be carried, sweetie? Is that it, little prince?”

Roman nods and blearily holds up his arms, letting out another squeaky yawn. He makes a few grabbing motions at Logan as he adjusts the last pillow.

“Ah, come here, little one,” Logan murmurs, picking him up, “let’s lie you down, shall we?”

The others join them in their pajamas, Roman’s head in Logan’s lap as he sits against the foot of the couch. Logan’s hand tangles in his hair, nails dancing over his scalp to encourage him to sleep.

“You’re safe, little one,” he promises, “just close your eyes. We’ll be right here for you when you wake up.”

Roman blinks up at him lazily, eyes wet with sleep as he nuzzles into Logan’s stomach. Logan keeps up the soothing rhythm of fingers in his hair, nails across his scalp, until the little one yawns away and closes his eyes. Only when sleep begins to call to him too do they shift, one of Roman’s hands on his chest, the other in Remus’s shirt as his head tucks into the crook of Logan’s shoulder.

The little prince falls asleep, surrounded by the warmth of his family.

————————

Roman blinks awake.

His ceiling doesn’t look like his ceiling and there’s a weight on his stomach that definitely isn’t a pillow. He cranes his head up to look around and his mouth drops open when he sees a slumbering Virgil lying with one arm around him. He turns his head a little more and comes face to face with Logan’s sleeping visage. Remus’s whistling snores are in his ear.

He risks sitting up a little farther, only to see Patton and Janus at the edge of the frankly giant mattress they’ve seem to set up on the floor of the living room. The two of them are almost protectively positioned, guarding the rest of them from whatever would plague them in the night.

His head is a little fuzzy and he can’t remember much of how they got here. Flashes come to him. Pretzels, paint, something about the word ‘prince.’

But, right now, with Logan’s chest rising and falling as Janus mumbles something in his sleep, he can’t be too bothered to worry about it.

Roman settles back down onto the mattress and closes his eyes. As he drifts off to sleep, a small smile touches the corners of his mouth.

For the first time in a long time, he feels okay.

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May i have a monster tom x reader?

Plot: While reader was out grabbing some groceries they recognize tom in his monster form getting chased by the cops and tom ends up in the forest and reader, searching form tom, eventually finds him in a cave and try to calm him down while also removing the bullet holes only having the cops find them again and reader convincing to put their guns away but one of thems just "NAW HE GOTTA DIE" and reader ends up with a bullet in their leg and also monster tom killing that one cop while the others got away and monster tom, with tears in his eye(s?) Kinda carries and injured reader. And also reader wakes up them covered in bandages and a half transformed monster tom silently crying while hugging them and they reassure him that it's not his fault and they cuddle :3

Also somehow tom got the groceries

Y e s good 👀👀👆👆👆

........

"Man, I sure do love grocery shopping for my roommates and boyfriend." You hummed out loud as you were walking back home, bags in-hand from your trip to the store.

It was just a normal day for the most part, which was quite strange considering something bizarre was bound to happen.

But so far nothing odd has occurred.

"It's nice to not worry about anything going wro-"

The sound of rumbling made you stop short, and you felt the ground tremble as you looked around in bewilderment.

Seconds later you noticed a giant purple beast roar as it ran past you, followed by several police cars and a few helicopters. You saw the beast flee into the nearby forest.

"Huh, that creature reminds me of Tom......HOLY SHIT THAT'S MY TOM!!"

Dropping the groceries, you dashed after him, noticing the knocked-over trees as you entered the wooded area undetected.

You had no idea what happened while you were gone to make Tom transform and wreck havoc again. But you've decided that you'll blame Tord once you get him back home.

Only that bastard could've done something to piss him off this much.

........

After much searching, and evasion of the spotlights and cops, you found a cave. You were worried that a bear lived here, but given the trail of blood that led into the entrance, you knew for certain it couldn't be one.

It had to be Tom.

"Tom? Sweetie? It's me." You called out gently as you went inside, hearing the monster's whine in response.

Eventually you turned a corner and found him, smiling at first. But then you saw the bullet wounds and gasped in shock, rushing over. "Oh jesus..it's okay, I'm here now. Let me see." You gently took his paw, gazing at the injury. A bullet was clearly lodged into it.

"Damnit..I did buy pliers at the store," you grumbled. "If I didn't drop all that stuff like an idiot I could've-"

Tom let out a displeased grunt, prompting you to look back up at him. "No, I don't care about groceries more than you. I'm just saying it would've been more convenient if I..."

However, you trailed off as his single eye squinted in pain. He lowered his head to nuzzle it against your forehead.

You sighed and put your hand on his cheek, hushing him. "I know it hurts, but we'll be okay. I'll find a way to-"

"HEY YOU! Step away from the scary monster!!"

Your eyes widened as you glanced over your shoulder, seeing several cops with their guns drawn blocking the way out.

Tom was starting to get angry again, but you hushed him once more, slowly standing up. You turned to the cops, keeping your hands out so they knew you weren't armed.

"Just go home, fellas. I got this under control. I know him. He's my uh....pet...dragon." You nervously chuckled, glancing back at the unamused Tom.

"Don't dragons have wings?" One of the cops remarked.

"How rude of you to stereotype." Huffing, you shook your head in dismay. "Listen, it's okay. He won't hurt me. So just please..put your guns away and I'll take him home. That way, everybody wins. Okay? Nobody has to die."

Although hesitant, they slowly put their guns back in their holsters. Though one cop who looked immensely paranoid suddenly took his back out, aiming it with shaking hands.

"Woah hey! What are you-?!"

"Y-You're lying!!" He shouted. "You probably created that thing and set him loose upon this city!! WELL THIS ENDS NOW!!!"

A single bullet was fired directly at Tom, but you jumped into its path, getting hit in the leg.

As you collapsed and yelled out in pain, Tom could only see the blood coming from you, and that was enough to fully enrage him.

He roared loudly and jumped over you, tackling the cop who shot you and tearing him apart, while the others fled the scene in fear they'll be next.

Once the man beneath him stopped screaming forever, he huffed as he got off of him. Then he looked at you, seeing you leaning against the wall, holding your leg. His eye began to water as he picked you up gently, whining as though to apologize for what happened.

You just smiled tiredly at him, though you couldn't say much as you gradually lost consciousness.

...........

When you woke up, you weren't aware of the time.

Just the fact you were laying in bed--back in the safety of Edd's house, with bandages covering your leg. But you realized that you weren't in your own room, but Tom's.

'Wait..is he..?'

Hearing a small sob, you looked to see your boyfriend curled up beside you, his head on your chest. You noticed his horns were still present and his arms were still fuzzy and large.

But besides that he was back to normal.

As you hugged him back, he looked up at you, tears staining his cheeks. They began falling faster. "I..I let you get hurt. I'm sorry..damnit." He cried silently. "I admit it, I lied about having this thing u-under control-"

"Hey, it's okay." You smiled as you kissed his forehead. "It was my decision to take that bullet, not yours. It's not your fault you can't control it just yet."

Tom sniffled. "S-So you're not mad?"

"No, I could never be." Rubbing his horns seemed to soothe him, as he purred and nestled his head back into your chest. "My leg hurts like a bitch but I'll live."

"My arm doesn't hurt anymore...or any other part of me that was shot."

"Huh..strange. Maybe you unlocked your regenerative healing powers." You mused.

He just chuckled, hugging you tightly. "Probably. By the way I..uh..got those groceries you dropped."

"Awh, really?"

"Yeah." He gazed up at you. "On the way home I scented the sminorff and, well..y'know I couldn't let that go to waste."

"....so you care about sminorff more than me?" You pouted.

"No. I'm not saying that." Tom was back to his usual grumpy self, which made you chuckle as you caught him off-guard with a kiss.

"I'm only teasing."

"....let's just stay like this for a while, alright?" He cuddled closer to you, sighing tiredly.

You agreed and just closed your eyes, glad to be back in his arms.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Can I place an order for Yandere Geralt de Rivia with the kind and loving reader who sees the best in people?

Yes lemme cook something up for our mans Geralt⚔️

Geralt of Rivia x reader - Full Moon on the Rise

Summary: You’ve never felt actual hate for others, you can’t even bring yourself to hurt a fly, and with Geralt, he’ll make sure you never have to.

Warning: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective Geralt

Masterlist

“So what do you think? The green cloak or the black one....ohhh or maybe the red one?” You ask excitedly as Geralt stands next to you, looking around for any potential threats more then actually paying any real attention, “I mean, the green matches more with the woods, you know trees n’ such and that’s great for blending in. But the black gives off those scary vibes you have. But the dark red one just looks so good, and comfy too.” You raise a brow as he nods, “You know.”

“Right.”

You smile at his adorably lack luster reply, it’s just how he is and that’s perfectly fine with you, “I’m going with the dark red cloak.” You grin with a curt nod of self approval for your knowledgeable decision making skills.

Turning to the cloak vendor you hold up your prize, “Good evening ma’am, how much for this mysterious beauty?”

The old woman smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams, quite excited to have some business with you, “Oh, my dear that’ll be five silver pieces.” You nod, tucking your new cloak under your arm as you nudge Geralt for some coin.

He quickly snaps his head over to you, his golden irises showing concern before he realizes you’re completely fine, “Y/N what is it?”

With a small giggle you make a grabby motion with your hand, “Spare me five silver pieces my good sir.” You muse with a mischievous brow wiggle, earning an amused huff from your Witcher.

He politely grins, “Whatever the lady asks.” Feeling around he pulls out the exact amount of coin you need. Your palm is spread as he tilts his hand into yours, conveniently giving you the coin.

“Thank you my love.” You whisper softy as he simply hands you the flash of a smile before turning his head to scour the market place once again.

The old woman opens up a small sack of coins for you to dump yours in, “Thank ya dear, have a save eve’nin.”

Clink. Sounds the last silver piece as you hold your new dirt-less red cloak closer in your arm, “You too.”

She suddenly leans in a bit closer, her face going serious, “Best keep that Witcher close, never know what kind of beasts be lurking in the woods. Specially with the next full moons a com’in.” Her wrinkly complexion turning back into her original beaming old lady face, “Have a nice stay in Bellepav.”

Stepping away you nervously nod, “Uh, yes....I’ll try?” You reply, not certain if you should be concerned or ignore the weirdness of the locals.

Deciding to ignore the strange behavior of the kind old woman, you flash her a last generous grin before turning on your heel and walking over to Geralt. With the familiar sound of your approaching footsteps he turns an intrigued eye over to you.

His brows furrowing as you gently lay a hand on his arm, “You alright Y/N.” He worries, noticing the slight wariness in your step.

Lightly squeezing his forearm you send him a reassuring smile, “Of course, that old woman was just acting odd. Well not that odd, I’ve definitely seen weirder....she just had a strange look when she told me to keep you close and watch out for the next full moon.”

He moves to take your cloak from you, quietly swinging the thick comfortable dark red fabric around your shoulders, clasping the lock together that keeps the material from falling off your body.

After he’s done, does his beautiful golden eyes find your alluring ones, “Y/N, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare let a soul touch you, you have my word.”

Reaching up to gently cup his scruffy cheek, you smirk, “I know you do.” Releasing your warm touch from his face do you turn towards the bakers cart, the smell of fresh bread wafting into your nostrils.

“Geralt!” You exclaim with an excited twinkle in your eyes, “Fresh bread....” Your skilled eyes land upon the shiny red apples displayed about on the stall, “Apples! Ugh, I haven’t had an actual apple in almost four months, what I would do for one.”

Your eyes stare dreamily at the bakers cart, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of the desired foods. Geralt chuckles at your adorable reaction before tugging at your arm. “Come on Y/N, I’ll get you something.” Speaks your kind Witcher with a tinge of humor in his gravely voice.

Snapping your head towards him, your eyes going wide in excitement, “Aww yes!” You shout before pulling him in the direction of the cart, joy flowing through your heart as you make hasty steps across the market place.

The red apples are even more beautiful then you’d first seen as you stand ogling them from your spot in the muddy lane, “Sir I’d like three apples and a loaf of that bread please.” You ask, your voice sweet as honey.

He nods, “That’ll be two silver pieces and a copper cent.” Inquires the baker with a friendly smile, casually looking you up and down though you’re to focused on the apples to even notice his slight creepiness.

Geralt does and immediately steps forward, his broad leather armored shoulder placing itself in between you and the lonely baker. His golden irises dark and deadly as he stares down the now noticeably frightened man.

The baker takes a step back, sending him a shy half grin, “Uh...I’ll get those apples...and uh...loaf of br-bread.” He stutteres, dropped his eyes to nothing else but his new task at hand.

You watch from behind Geralt’s strong body, your mind on those big beautiful apples as Geralt fishes out the coin, dropping it atop the wooden table as the baker hands him the loaf and a small bag filled with three juicy red apples.

A smile breaks out upon your face as Geralt hands you the food, you gratefully accept as he turns and practically death glares at the stunned baker, who’s notably averted his gaze to his fluffy loaves of bread.

Geralt turns back around to watch as you hug your valuables close, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at your obliviously cute demeanor.

Resting a hand on your shoulder he finds your beaming eyes, “Lets go find Roach.”

You gasp, “I bet Roach would love one of these big beautiful bastards.” Earning a chuckle from your silver haired lover as he walks by your side on the way to the front entrance of the small village.

You both wander past some more harmless villagers going about their business until a small dirty little boy races past the two of you, tripping over his own two feet and just like that does he abruptly fall into the dirt. His hands landing with a thwack sound as his stomach and knees reach the hard ground.

He lets out a pained cry once his chin hits the earth, you don’t have time to think before you’ve crouched by his side like a concerned mother. You gently touch his shoulder as he sniffles, his dirt smudged face turning to you.

“That was quite the tumble, are you alright?” His big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he moves into a seated position, his hands clutched tight against his chest as he holds in the pain.

“Y-yes.....sorry miss I should have been looking were I was going.” He mutters, his eyes downcast as he avoids Geralt’s hard gaze from right next to you.

Your eyes turn soft before you take one of your red apples from out of your thin ruck sack, “I have just the thing that would cheer you up, ever taste something as colorful as this crimson beauty?” You add with a raise of your brow, the young boy sniffles again. His face lighting up as you wave the shining red apple across his line of sight.

You smile, handing him the scarlet treat, “I think you need this more then me. Maybe it’ll sharped those senses so you won’t fall again, hmm.”

He holds the valuable in his small grubby fingers, his eyes wide in surprised wonder, “Th-thank you miss, I’ll try and not fall again.”

You breath out an amused snort, “Yes, I wouldn’t want to land on these streets again, considering horses are ridden through them daily.” The brown eyed boy gives you the shyest of smiles before you stand to your full height once again.

“Safe travels.” You add with a friendly wink before continuing on your way out of the village, Geralt trailing after you like the ever loyal lover that he is.

His large form keeps comfortably at your side, “That was our apple Y/N.” States Geralt in his titular gruff Witcher voice.

Turning an amused smirk to him, you nudge his arm, “Great observation, but the little beast seemed to need it more...poor thing just about face planted in the street. Did look quite painful.”

Geralt smiles, always bemused by your kind intellect, “Y/N you are too kind.”

Walking past the front gates and down the muddy village trail you let out a small laugh, “What? Can I not give a little, if you haven’t noticed my White Wolf...this world doesn’t like to be very kind to the innocent most times.” He hums in agreement, “So you see, I’ll do whatever I can to help those who need it most. And if that’s a clumsy child with a dirty face, I’ll be glad to make their day better.”

You can’t see it, but Geralt’s heart could just about explode with how much love he has for you in this very moment, the way you speak with such care and kindness for the people of the continent. He’s never met anyone like you, through it all, with all you’ve seen, your heart still goes out for the ones who need it the most and Geralt knows this. 

Your whole aurora feels light and warm, excitement courses through your vessel as you think of how happy Roach is going to be once she gets a taste of your delicious apple. And especially how much you’re looking forward to taking a bite out of your own crispy red apple too. It’s the little things.

Boots press into mud as you finally find your way to the small stream where you both left Roach to nibble on some vegetation. You quickly set your loaf of bread onto a mossy log before reaching in your thin ruck sack to pull out one beautifully shiny crimson apple.

“Hello my dear Roach!” You exclaim happily as the mare neighs, “I’ve got a lil somethin’ for ya, it’s a...da da da daaaa....apple!” Geralt chuckles to himself in the background as he fumbles around in his black traveling bag, finding something to sharpen his sword with.

“How bout’ them apples..” you burst with laughter at your admittedly cheesy jest, “Okay, okay...here ya go Roach. A prize for the best lady in all the land.” Her head bobs up and down as you bring the red apple near her face. She quickly devours the fruit in a matter of seconds, the speed and her clear delight enough to earn a giggle from you.

“Roach.” You tut with a shake of your head, “Those manners are something else. Wonder who you learned them from?”

You turn an eye to Geralt who’s stopped sharpening his sword to find your humored gaze, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” He mutters, doing his best to hide his growing smile.

Turning a flustered face away from him you gently pet Roach’s soft mane, “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” You whisper to the mare.

After tending to Roach for a bit do you walk down to the stream, washing away the dirt and grime from your hands and face as Geralt starts a fire close by. You can feel his golden irises watching you as the cool water washes away the worries of the day.

Finishing up your nightly routine, you stand once more, turning around to face the loving smile of your dear Witcher. You walk over to his glowing fire, a small smile upon your lips, “Room for one more?”

He scoots himself down the log, patting to the extra spot, “There’s always room for you.”

Sitting yourself next to him, he quickly wraps a protective arm around you, pulling your body close. The both of you do nothing but enjoy one another’s company and the crackling of the campfire for what seems like hours. You couldn’t be bothered to remove yourself from Geralt even if a whole war party was racing past you both louder then a giants scream.

Though you’re just about certain without a doubt in your mind that Geralt feels the exact same way. His breathing his steady and calm, it’s a comforting rhythm that you could listen to for hours. Even his large muscular arm is warm against your body, he’s like a furnace on the coldest night. And all yours.

You’re just about to drift off into dreamland when a sudden loud howl is heard in the near distance causing you to jump. Geralt hugs you closer, “Fear not Y/N, it’s just a damn wolf, nothing to be afraid of.” He assures you with the kindest of smiles, not a note of falseness lacing his words.

Resting your head against his broad shoulder once again, you gently squeeze his hand, “Right, of course. Just a stupid old wolf who apparently feels it the time to howl at the full moon tonight.” You affirm with a curt nod, “I mean, it’s beautiful out and whatnot, guess it just startled me is all.”

“There’s nothing in these woods to be afraid of, except for me.” Grumbles Geralt as he stares into the embers of the fire.

“Oh, my love I could never be afraid of you. Never.” He smiles at your truthfulness, his chest filling with warmth at your kind words.

In reply he places a gentle kiss atop your head, earning a content sigh to leave your lips at the feeling, he is too good to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not once has he ever made you uncomfortable or in fear for your life because of him, Geralt makes sure of himself to always put you first. He couldn’t bare to ever see you in pain.

The grip on your Witcher’s arm goes tighter at the sound of another piercing howl, this time much too close for your liking. Geralt can sense the fearful uneasiness radiating off of your smaller frame, how your heartbeat has picked up with the rush of your nerves. You’re not one to scare that easily, but this wolf is most definitely getting closer for whatever reason.

“Geralt!” You whisper yell, “That sounded close!”

With one arm wrapped around your torso and the other one clasped around the hilt of his silver sword, he looks around him as they two of you keep seated atop the log, a grand moon cloaking the land in a strangely beautiful whiteness. Revealing enough light upon the ground so that not all of the forest is covered in darkness and shadow.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will protect you.” He swears to you, giving a light squeeze to your hip in a small act of comfort, “And anyways, if this was anything to be truly concerned about, Roach would show it. We are going to be fine. This wolf is simply just passing through.”

Your eyes glance over to Roach who’s casually nibbling on some grass, “Alright. Perhaps I’m overreacting, it’s just a wolf going on a nightly stroll as you do, nothing weird about that.”

“Precisely, now how about we get ready for bed? I’ve got the bed rolls already layed out for us....so don’t worry Y/N I’ve got you.” Reassures your Witcher as he removes his arm from your side to rest his sword in the grass right next to his makeshift bed. 

Feeling much better now you eagerly follow suit, the roughish cloth of your traveling bed roll is a cherished luxury of journeying across the vast lands of the continent. Though a tavern mattress would be more inviting, the arms of Geralt are always enough in your eyes, or perhaps arms in this case.

Even on the coldest of nights out here would you never really feel a shiver or the icy touch of the cool night air upon your skin. For your Witcher’s large frame seems to always be enough to block out the chill with his body heat when pressed closely against your back.

 Just like he is doing now, holding you securely to his large chest, his arms wrapped around your torso. Pulling yourself firmly counter to him, a thick blanket holding in the needed heat that nicely covers over the both of you.

With Geralt so near, your wandering and worrying mind has subsided those troublesome thoughts away from you, the howling wolf from earlier now finding it’s way into the back of your head. Giving yourself time to forget and find the call to sleep once again. With the warmth of Geralt holding you close, your eyelids flutter shut in a matter of seconds, the pull into the dark void of unconsciousness taking hold of you quickly.

Soon you’re out like a light, Geralt falling asleep not long after you do, leaving only the dull glowing embers of the campfire to keep watch over the two of you. Sleep is peaceful and full of strange images presenting themselves as dreams in your head, you can hear the soft sweet calling of Geralt as he speaks sweet nothings into the bleary grey void. 

Suddenly you’re standing in a large field of the greenest grasses flowing at your feet, large beautiful mountains surrounding you on all sides off in the far distance, you look to your left and find a single small tree with a branch sticking out. 

Walking closer, a black raven materializes right before your very eyes, breaking the silence with a gravelly shrill caw as it nods in your direction. Like it’s trying to communicate with you in the birds own way, furrowing your brows, you trek closer to the mysterious bird. You don’t appear to feel afraid or scared, you’re not even sure if you feel anything at all. Guess that’s just how dreams are sometimes.

Taking another step closer the raven lets out a thrilling caw before the dark bird spreads its black wings, you stumble back as the bird jumps from its perch to take flight. It flaps past you before landing on the short green grass where it is immediately clouded in dark smoke of blues, purples, and deep reds until everything clears to reveal the dirt smudged face of the little boy from earlier that day.

You gasp, surprised to see the little guy standing right before you once again, he looks up to you now, the tiniest of smiles crossing over his face. You stand perplexed, ready to ask him why he’s here when suddenly he points to the blue sky. 

“Hold your silver close.” He speaks softly, in that unassuming boyish voice of his.

Hugging yourself, you glance back down at him, “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He simply points his little stubby finger back up at the sky, you follow, bewildered to find that the sky is now dark and full of stars, though you can still see around you like the sun is still out. How odd.

“Hold your Witcher close.” Warns the small child in the calmest of voices. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion you meet his stoic gaze once again. “Uh....I’m kind of lost, sorry.” You mutter, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

The child smiles a beaming grin, letting out the most adorable of giggles before pointing up at the night sky for the third time, you shift your gaze to find nothing but pitch blackness. And a huge milk white glowing full moon, it’s the largest you’ve ever seen and it’s absolutely magnificent.

You don’t even notice the smile that's fallen onto your face when you suddenly hear the flapping of feathers, snapping your sight back over to the young boy, you’re perplexed to be greeted with the beaming wrinkly face of the old woman from the market. 

She nods, acknowledging your presence, “Watch for what lurks in the woods dear. The full moon is here.” She whispers, the warmest of smiles gracing over her aged face as she nods to you once again.

Taking a step closer you take a nervous fistful of the red cloak that’s covering your body, how strange you didn’t notice the material before hand. “Oh, uh hello there....it is quite beautiful isn’t it.” You stammer, “There was a little boy just here moments ago. Do you know where he went?”

She tilts her head to the side, walking a couple steps forward so that she can reach out to clasp both your hands with hers, a kind twinkle in her eye, “My dear, he will always love you, through land and sea, from woods to meadow, and far beyond what makes us human.” She gently squeezes your hands in reassurance, “No matter the cost, he will always love you. For you are his moon, and he is your sun.”

Your brows scrunch together at her poetic words of wisdom? Or, well you’re not entirely so sure, “Sorry. I’m not confident on what you’re getting at ma’am, uh...thank you, I guess.” She smiles once again, showing you a nod of approval before letting go of your hands. 

She takes a step back, clasping her palms together, “He is here.” 

“Who is here?” You wonder.

“You will see.”

Without warning she abruptly bursts into a flurry of cawing ravens that squawk and screech as they press and flap their dark wings against your face, causing you to fall back into the grass from the jolting intrusion. Suddenly you suck in a quick breath of cold air, your eyes shooting wide open, only for you to find the snoozing face of Geralt. 

His tangled dirty white hair a mess over his handsome face as he lets in slow and calming breaths, you relax, letting out an audible sigh of relief. What a strange dream that was, you’ve never had anything like it before. And your dreams are far from anything normal most times. 

Though Geralt feels rather nice snuggled next to you, your body feels hot and sweaty, like you can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed and cornered at the moment. Wanting to get some air and cool off, you quietly and skillfully slip from your Witcher’s sweet embrace. You slowly cover him back up with the thick blanket, tip-toeing over to Roach who’s itching her furry bottom on a tree.

You take small steps towards her, a half smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “Hey there girl, having fun?” You chuckle to yourself as she does her thing.

“Nice night huh, I hope no one’s come around to bother you.” She leans her big soft nose into your gentle touch as you pet her, “I got a little too warm, guess Geralt’s a lot hotter then I anticipated. Well, I mean...he’s always hot if you catch my meaning...but you probably already new that and uh....you’d probably rather not listen to me ramble on about how attractive your rider is, hmm? So don’t fret, I will stop.”

She snorts, nudging her nose into your opened palm, “Okay girl, I think you’re great too. I’d say you’ve helped us out quite a bit and not to mention when...” 

Snap.

Your head leers to the left at the abrupt sound, nothing but milky white darkness and shadow is to be seen as your eyes trail over the wood line. That was certainly very close, what the hell even made that stick break? Was it a deer, or maybe a coyote? 

Your nerves prick when Roach suddenly takes a wary step backwards, her leather reigns pulling to their limit as she takes another step away from you. Thinking quick, you rush to her side, pulling out Geralt’s other silver sword just incase some weird shit is about to go down.

Grasping the blade in your tight grip, you take cautious steps towards the heavy pines that seems to be the place where the stick snapped. You swallow nervously, your heart just about beating out of your chest as you travel closer and closer to the green bristles. 

Y/N what are you doing? Have you learned nothing from what those weird dreams were telling you?

Blinking hard, you stop, turning an apprehensive glance over to your peacefully sleeping Witcher, why wake him this could be a simple deer? Letting out another shaky breath you turn towards the thick pine trees, squinting your eyes as you try and do your absolute best to locate the intruder. Walking past a small evergreen, your heart feels like it’s about to explode when suddenly you hear a gentle rustle of leaves directly in front of you.

Turn back idiot.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you blink again, attempting to focus enough that maybe you’ll be able to see what’s making that noise. But as you’re leaning in to the pines, does your eyes finally catch the sight of a large black figure standing on the other side of the tree. Without warning the shadow leaps, you don’t even have a chance to scream before the flash of pearly white fangs reveals itself to you in a raging blur. 

The beast shoves you back into the clearing, emitting a blood curdling howl of agony as it steps into the moonlight, your eyes widen in fear at the chilling sight of a huge dark-grey werewolf. It’s inhuman eyes that of glowing topaz, it’s fangs bare and mouth dripping with saliva. Your chest rises and falls with heavy terrified breaths as the wolfman stands on two legs, its strong hand going to its stomach where a thick human like paw pulls out your silver blade.

Steaming red hot blood pours to the frost covered earth as the beast drops the shinning silver to the ground, its wound showing in the bright moonlight as it eyes you down like you’re nothing more then a lost sheep. You shiver at the sight, desperately scooting yourself backwards towards the fire as the werewolf growls a low but haunting note, falling onto all fours as it takes a step closer.

A frightful tear falls down the side of your cheek, you see nothing but hunger and pain in this creatures eyes, he’s slowly dying, but you know he will kill you before his last breath is had.

The wolfman growls again, readying a last charge when all of a sudden a shimmering silver sword is thrust deeply into the beasts throat, the source of its demise steps in between you and the wounded bastard.

Your eyes are wide as you watch the werewolf sink to the earth, gargling and choking on it’s own blood as it dies, twitching here and there before finally it goes still as stone. Not a sound emitting from it’s vessel but the heavy breaths of yourself and Geralt, who’s walked over to the beast now. Crouching down to observe it better, he hums, pulling the blood covered sword out of the monsters throat with a gross meaty sound.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as Geralt drags his bloody silver over the beasts fur to clean the wet red from the blade. You swallow thickly, eyes watery from the whole frightening ordeal, “So not a deer as I had hoped.” You mutter, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips causing you to gasp in pain at something on your ribs. 

Geralt pierces his sword into the soft dirt, his face a mask of frustrated anger as he turns to you, “Y/N what where you thinking? You could have been killed, you didn’t know what was lurking in the dark, why wouldn’t you have just stayed by the fire?” He grumbles as you avoid his troubled gaze.

Another tear slips down your cheek causing his face to immediately soften, “I don’t know?” You whisper sadly, “I...I shouldn’t have thought to walk in the dark alone like that, it was foolish of me Geralt, truly...I’ll think better of it next time I promi- agh ugh...”A sharp jolting pain rips through your body right down the side of your right ribcage, feeling like someone has just burned you with a cast iron. 

More whimpers slip from your tongue at the searing violent stinging of your flesh causing you to press your hands against the area, your face contorting into one of agony while Geralt’s expression reveals deep concern. Not understanding in the slightest why you feel such misery all of a sudden, your eyes slip down to the dreaded area where you take notice of how your dark coat appears to be torn in jagged slashes where the pain is coming from.

Your brows furrow as you slowly remove your tied overcoat, Geralt’s big golden irises studying your every move for what the problem may be. Your hands make quick work of the lacing, now your arms move as you remove the jacket, you gasp in fear once it falls to the ground.

“Y/N.” Whispers Geralt in the softest of voices as a lone tear slides down your cheek.

Slowly you raise your weary head to meet is saddened gaze, “I’ve been bitten.” You rasp, lifting your bloody hand up into the silky moonlight, the burning ache of your wound making itself more present then ever.

Suddenly a surging spike of white hot torment angrily tears up into your side once more, though this time it’s too overwhelmingly excruciating that you fall to your knees, desperately grasping your wounded side when Geralt takes quick steps forward. Pulling you into his strong arms before you’re able to even hit the cold earth completely, his eyes never leaving your distressed face.

“Y/N look at me love, I’m right here...” He speaks gently while holding you close, though you can’t look at him, “don’t be afraid I’ve got you.”

More fearful tears fall freely now as you press your face into his shoulder, a numb and dark feeling finding it’s way into your soul while your arms wrap themselves around his waist, “No, not this.” You cry, shaking with fright, “This cannot be, I-I cannot be a wolf beast....I won’t ever harm anyone Geralt I swear to you on my life, I would never! I-I could never, it isn’t in me!” 

“Oh Y/N, my dear Y/N..” His voice surprises you with how uncharacteristically tender it sounds, “Look at me love.” He pleads calmly, pulling you from his shoulder so that you may look into his kind-hearted gaze, “Do you think now, that I would dare lay my blade against your precious skin?” Your lip quivers as your watery eyes slip from his to the werewolf laying dead near the two of you.

“I am one of them now Geralt. How can I live as this now, I am not a monster. I can’t hurt innocent people, I can’t.” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you speak, “All the years we have been together have been the happiest of my entire life, know this Geralt. You bring me so much joy and light that I never imagined I could ever feel, you have given me your heart even when you first claimed you could not love. I will never forget that.” His heart breaks in two at your truthful words of honesty paired with how somber and dismal you appear.

Not being able to stand you looking away from him for much longer, he carefully lifts a hand up to turn your face to his, leaving his palm on your cheek in a comforting manner, “Y/N my love, you will never be a monster in my eyes, not once not ever. I may be a Witcher, but you will not meet an untimely end due to this curse that has made it’s way into your vessel.” His eyes are soft and serene, full of absolute love and adoration for you.

Y/N he will not hurt you, but you cannot hurt others.

You sniffle, your voice thick as you speak, “I will not let others suffer a violent death because of me Geralt, it’s not in my blood.”

“You will not, there is always another way..”

“There is no other way!” You interrupt, sure of yourself that this new affliction will be your inevitable demise, “A werewolf cannot be broken of their curse once it is had, there are no known antidotes!”

“Y/N..”

“This bite cannot be undone Geralt.”

Eyes softening, he pulls you in closer to rest his head against your own, “My dear Y/N, your life means more to me then you know. I will find you the cure, I have seen a vial of it myself long ago when visiting an experienced alchemist who taught me many things about potion making. He will surly know how to rid this she-wolf within you, I am sure of it.”

Lifting your face away from his, you finally show him the tiniest of relieved smiles, your heart bursting with joy at this refreshing news, “You never fail to surprise me, even now. I trust you...I love you Geralt of Rivia with my entire being, every part of me from now until death. I guess this world has yet to bring me down.” 

Studying your newly determined expression, he grins with eyes full of love, “I do not doubt it my dear one.”

[shushiyuii]

g/t with language barrier pls?

Language barrier? That's an interesting idea! It's basically gonna be one big game of charades!

Warnings: Slight injury and dehumanisation (Nothing serious)

Words: 1.2k

I'm sorry, What?

To put it simply, he was a monster. His large tusks could easily pierce anything in its path. His blood-stained clothes could scare any approaching civilian. The battle scars that could just scream ‘I’m an experienced killer, do you want to try?’ even made some of the strongest in the world bow to his knees. He hated how people were treated just by appearance? But all in all, the rumours of the blood god do have its benefits.

How so? Well, whenever you enter a kingdom, you’re treated with the highest of respects in hopes of not angering him since well… He’s taken down a lot of kingdoms during his time. Technoblade was a man of many things, he was talented in combat, writing, speaking, mythology, baking and so much more.

But that was manly in the past now, the rumours of the travelling blood god who took down kingdoms changed to a bloodthirsty god residing in the woods, the title still stood but without the part of ‘if you just as much as piss me off, I will tear down your kingdom’ to just ‘leave me alone or ill kill you’ to put it simply.

It was nice to have the peace and quiet as he worked within the confines of his cottage.

Now a thing to know about this world, is that it’s a world full of monsters and hybrids. And one of the rarest species out there were Humans. Humans were not the same as Monsters, they were weak, small, and fragile. They have just as quickly gone as they were once here.

Whenever humans are around, they’re seen as a delicacy, used in magic, restaurants, and decoration for the highest of the highest. The rumours say humans have gone hidden underground or hide deep within the woods, but in all honestly, Techno couldn’t give two shits about these rumours, they were just rumours and nothing more. He hadn’t even seen a human during his centuries of living.

That was until one fateful day, it was an ordinary day of hunting until he heard an ear-piercing scream, an obnoxiously loud one…

When he found the source of this sound, he was more than surprised to find a human, laying in one of his many traps, his leg trapped in rope. Well… What was he going to do with a human? He didn’t really want to eat the thing, nor did he practise magic, nor did he want to kill it. Perhaps he could kill it?

He decided that would probably be the best course of action since well… There’s a lot of danger out there in the world. He carefully approached the tiny human, crouching and trying to reassure it before he released the fella.

“⊑⟒⊬... ⟟'⋔ ⋏⍜⏁ ☌⍜⋏⋏⏃ ⊑⎍⍀⏁ ⊬⏃' (Hey... I'm not gonna hurt ya') But what came out of human was what seemed to be a language he couldn’t understand. “Please! Stay away!”. The tone seemed scared. Of course, it was scared, it had been captured.

A very familiar scent hit his snout as he saw the human wince, it seemed the human was injured. Shit, now he had to try and calm a human with an injury. Techno decided the best course of action would probably be a game of charades, embarrassing as that was but the two of them wouldn’t be able to communicate with the language barrier.

He tried to get the humans attention and it kind of worked, with the human staring him down with terrified eyes… To be honest, he was scared himself, he didn’t even know himself as he was doing. He tried to gesture towards the trap and a breaking motion, with him pointing towards the human and then turning to a thumbs up. Hopefully, that would get the message.

For a moment the human seemed confused as it tried to comprehend what had happened, he repeated the action again with a flustered expression. The human then spoke, “You want to free me?”. It seemed calm now.

He titled his head in confusion, he didn’t understand the human but he hoped that it was okay with being set free. He brought out his hunting knife and carefully set the human free, luckily the human neither struggled nor yelled. It actually seemed rather content.

He slowly cut through the rope, careful as to not hurt the human and as soon as the human was free, he backed off slightly, not wanting to startle the human, “Thank you” the human spoke, Techno titled his head, “Oh right… You can’t understand me, can you?”. The human seemed in thought until he gestured that he got an idea.

He gave a thumbs-up, which meant that it was good! He was good! He and the human were good! Then the human tried to stand up, but yelled in pain… Oh, right… It had an injury.

The human looked at him for help and Techno thought for a moment of what to do, he had to treat the human and the only way of doing so would be to take it back to his cottage. So, he gestured towards his hand.

The human was confused for a moment until it got the message, it was scared at first until he laid his own hand on Techno’s using It as a means of trying to stand, Techno took this chance to cup the human into his hands, carefully lifting it off the ground, the human let out a yelp in the change of height but other than that, it seemed alright with the action.

Actually, it seemed this human was pretty calm in general, which was surprisingly odd yet convenient. Luckily the cottage wasn’t too far away from their current position so it wouldn’t be too much of a walk back.

Right, he was supposed to be hunting… Oh well, he had tons of potatoes, he could just make potato soup. As they walked, he wanted to try and see if there was another means of speaking with the human, perhaps they had similar writing?

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really get a good look at the human, they actually seemed a bit older, probably his age equivalent. Blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The human also had an odd hat with it being striped green and white.

“⍙⊑⏃⏁'⌇ ⊬⍜⎍⍀ ⋏⏃⋔⟒?” (What’s your name?), the human looked at him in confusion until he tried to think what he might’ve said, to find no conclusions. Duh, because he didn’t understand so he gestured towards him and the human and said his name, “⏁⟒☊⊑⋏⍜”. The human thought for a moment until he seemed to pick up the message.

“My name? It’s Philza. Phil-za”. The human repeated that word, seemingly wanting him to focus on it. He tried to pronounce it “P- ⊑⟟⌰-za”. “Close, Philza”. “Philza?” His ears twitched in excitement as he said it right. So, it’s- his name was Philza!

Soon enough, the two reached the cottage and Techno tended to his wound, at least he had something to refer to Philza as, but Philza didn’t have a means of saying his names.

After Techno finished bandaging Phil’s wound, he went to grab a piece of paper and proceeded to write hello in the few languages he knew and placed them in front of Phil. He seemed confused for a minute as he tried to read them. Hopefully one would be one he knew.

And they found one! It was a language Techno had learnt to read but not speak, it was called English an old language used back in the day. So, it seemed that was the common language for humans but hey! Now the two could write to each other rather than charades!

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒, 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉

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𝐵𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹: imagine-all-the-fandoms said:

Hey you 💕 I’m so in love with your imagines, you’re a great writer! I hope it’s okay to send smth in as well ☺️ a Bucky one for where you’re crushing each other and head to a mission together in the snowy mountains where you get trapped by a storm in a cute cabin. First he’s all shy around you but in the end it’s all cute as he makes a little fire and shares his clothes to keep you warm which also leads to cuddling and finally sharing a kiss and even some loving smut when you finally admit your feelings ?

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Smut, 18+, Fluff, friends to lovers, shy Bucky, fluff, did I mention fluff? Plant stuff? you’re kinda like that bitch from sky high lol

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒: this is too cute and I had so much writing this, i feel it radiates like huge cottage core energy but in the snow XD anyways hope you like it bug and thanks for the request!!

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You were walking from the greenhouse/garden room holding a small plant when you bumped into a much larger figure, accidentally dropping said plant.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” the voice said.

“It’s ok. I’m sorr-” you stopped.

The person was Bucky and under his big black boot was your little baby plant that you were taking to your room to nurse. You stared at him with a shocked and upset look on your face and Bucky stepped back to see the poor plant squished on the floor. 

Wanda was a bystander and rushed over to help clean up. She used her powers and mended the plant pot back together but the poor bud was still wilted. 

“Are you guys ok?” Wanda asked, handing you the pot with the wilted plant. 

“You squished my plant,” you said monotonously.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, panicked.

You playfully shook your head in disappointment trying your hardest to burst into giggles. It was ok because it’s what you do. You did… plant stuff. You weren’t exactly sure what your abilities were but you did know that you worked with plants very well.

You looked down at the bud and softly blew. Sage green magic circled the plant and life went back into the little sprout. Bucky’s panicked expression softened as he watched you use your magic. The way you smiled when the plant came back to life. That proud smile you had on made him smile too.

“There. All better,” you looked back Bucky. 

“All better,” he repeated with a smile.

“Hey, Y/n. Bucky,” Steve called you from down the hall.

“What’s up?”

“Fury needs you two in the conference room, says he’s got a mission for you two,” Steve walked away after he informed you both.

“Lead the way darling,” Bucky gestured his hand forward.

“Ah, you’re here. Why do you have a plant in your hand?”

“Bucky squished my flower under his boot,” you said.

“It was an accident,” Bucky mumbled.

“Moving on. I have a mission for you both in the alps. Some thugs are trading alien plant life so I need you,” he pointed to you, “to collect some samples for Tony and Bruce and Bucky will be there to protect you. If any plants die or get frozen you know what to do.”

You were plenty capable to handle yourself but you’ve never had to do so in the snow. You generally stuck to warmer and sunnier places when it came to missions. Bucky was pretty used to the snow so he knows to survive better in case you get stuck; but that won’t happen obviously.

“Wheels up in 30.”

You got to hide out and you were sort of struggling considering you had maybe seven layers of clothes on. You felt like a big puffy marshmallow waddling your way to the crime scene. The mission was somewhat successful, Bucky had really done all the work fighting and you just ran around tying up bad guys with vines and holding little seedlings in your pockets.

All was going until it didn’t. The wind picked up quickly and snow started thrashing around you and the others. You were fighting on the side of a hill, well Bucky was. You were still running around trying not to get shot. There was rumbling and the ground shook under you. You looked at Bucky who had taken down someone and his face held fear and concern. 

“Run!” he yelled.

“Where!” you started running anyhow.

“Follow me, doll!” 

You tried your best to run through heavy snow and with many many layers of clothes on you but it was becoming a struggle. Especially running against the wind made it a challenge on its own. Bucky was far ahead of you but thankfully turned back to grab your hand effectively dragging you alongside him running from the tumbling snow chasing after you. 

“Think you get us above ground? Maybe a tree? Rock platforms?” Bucky shouted, still running with his arm up to prevent snow and ice from getting in his eyes.

“The snow’s too thick and the wind is too strong,” you shouted back.

“I’m sorry,” you shouted shakily.

Before Bucky could respond the snowfall did a hiccup before finally settling within feet of you and Bucky. You two were exhausted and if you had to run any further, you’d probably be consumed by snow because you barely had any energy left in you to keep running.  

The wind was still harsh and the snow fell rapidly making it almost impossible to see even 5 feet in front of you. 

“We should find shelter,” Bucky said close to your face. Your nose was nearly numb from the cold and the warmth from Bucky’s proximity made it almost feel like it was burning. 

“I’m just following you,” you said with tired eyes.

After what felt like hours of walking you were practically dragging your feet and legs across the thick snow. The blankets of snow  glistened beautiful and sparkled under the sun. despite the sun now being out the weather was still almost unbearably cold. Your body still shook from the chill.

“You know, I’ve never liked winter. It was always so plain and boring with all the snow. And it’s so fucking cold; I’d rather be laying in the sun in a meadow. But this,” you circled your arms and twirled, “This is beautiful.”

“You what’s even more beautiful?” Bucky held your hand.

“What?” you said shyly.

“That cabin up ahead,” he smirked, and you smacked his chest.

“Well then, come on. I’m still freezing my butt off, and surely the seedlings in my pocket are frozen too,” you started treading the snow, grunting every step.

You got inside after a few tugs because the lock was practically frozen shut. The cabin was seemingly abandoned, else the hosts would certainly be surprised. Nonetheless, Bucky searched the house for anything to give you warmth. You stood in the living room area of the cabin awaiting instructions from Bucky since he seemed to know what he was doing. 

“Hey, doll. It looks like this place’s got two fireplaces. One here and in the master bedroom. Take your pick.”

“How long will be here?” you asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve hardly got any signal to send an alert.”

“That means we’ll probably spend the night. We should use the bedroom.”

“You can use the bedroom. I set a fire in the fireplace there, and then I’ll set one up out here for me when you’re taken care of,” he said.

“I thought we were sharing the room,” you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. See you had this little, itty, bitty, tiny crush on the fellow. But how could you not? He was perfect! You certainly weren’t going to waste the opportunity to share a bed with the guy if you ‘had to’. 

“Let’s get you taken care of,” he smiled softly.

You walked to the back room where the master bedroom was and it was beautiful. The bed was disassembled, the mattress was leaning to the side on the wall and the bed frame was taken apart. Bucky moved the bedframe to the side and flopped the mattress down to the floor. 

“Let me check for any blankets in this place,” Bucky ran off. 

You looked around and walked into the connected bathroom. To your absolute surprise there were small plants, unfortunately dead, and pots filled with dried out and chalky dirt. You could work with that. 

You picked them up and took them to the bed. You sat on the mattress and placed the pots in front of you on the floor at your feet. You pulled out the frozen seedlings and plants and placed each one in their own pot. 

That same sage green magic circled your hands and traveled to the pots where the dirt grew damp and the seedlings grew into buds. You smiled to yourself before looking up, eyes meeting Bucky’s who watched you with a grin on his face.

“It’s amazing what you do,” he said holding a bunch of blankets.

“It’s nothing.”

“No-” he was interrupted from the branches of the trees right outside the room baniging against the window hard. 

“Oh no. storm’s picking up again,” Bucky mumbled.

“Are we gonna be ok?” you asked.

“”We’ll be fine. Now are you hurt?”

“Just cold,” you whispered.

“Ok if you feel uncomfortable let me know and I’ll leave you ok?” you nodded.

“I need you to take your layers off until you reach your thermal.”

You zipped down your snow jacket that was incredibly wet from all the snow from outside. Next was a layer of your snow pants after you took your snow boots off, which were also wet; both the pants and boots.

Bucky helped you with the rest of your layers under you simply wore a thermal and your undergarments underneath. Your body was shaking still and the fire still wasn’t on yet. 

“Here are all the blankets I could find. Warm yourself up while I turn on the fireplace,” Bucky walked outside to gather some stumps of wood that were conveniently stacked next to the front door. He came back with a rock and banged it against his metal hand to create sparks which thankfully successfully lit the fire. 

“Are you feeling ok?” he asked shyly.

“Sort of, but the fire’s going so I think I’ll feel better very soon,” you responded.

Bucky was about to leave you and make his own fire in the living room when you stopped him.

“Buck, you don’t have to leave,” you said.

“Thought I’d give you some privacy,” he responded.

“I don’t need privacy, besides the fire’s already made. Just stay here,” you scooted on the bed for him to sit.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Come sit,” you smiled and patted the spot next to you.

He sat with you very closely and you feel his body heat radiating off his body like a heater. He asked if it was ok if he got rid of wet clothes too and you let him. When he took his last layer off he accidentally lifted his thermal shirt with it exposing his lower stomach. The muscle of his abdominals surprised you and you couldn’t help but oogle.

Bucky’s cheeks grew red and not from the cold. You two sat in silence. Your body was still trembling slightly and bucky wanted to help you. He just didn’t know if you;d be comfortable with the particular survival tactic. 

“I don’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable but body heat and skin to skin contact is the most effective way to warm the body.

“Bucky, are you making a move on me?” you giggled.

“Uh no- sorry I, uh I-”

“I’m just teasing,” you smiled.

“I want to help you,” he whispered.

“Ok.”

Bucky moved away slightly and reached for the bottom of your shirt hesitantly looking to you for permission of which you granted. Your arms came up and the thermal slowly peeled off of your cold body. You were simply left in a bra and your arms covered yourself in coldness and also slight insecurity. 

Bucky also took his thermal off and tossed it to the side. Your eyes trained on his torso littered with little scars and bruises that made you want to reach out and hold him. He leaned back on the mattress and lifted his hips to remove his thermal pants and then looked back to you to make sure you were still ok.

You stood up and quickly discarded your pants as well as seeing Bucky turn his away from seeing you undress; which made your heart warm at his manners. When you were done you sat back down much closer to Bucky this time.

His arms wrapped around you and both your legs hitched over his thighs as you curled into him. His body was so hot, figuratively and literally. Your body instantly warmed up against his hardened muscles. You stayed this way while the fire burned and Bucky told you stories about him and Steve back in the 40s before everything happened. 

There was a moment of silence that settled between you and you looked into Bucky’s eyes. His hand came up and softly brushed the air from your face. You leaned into hand and smiled faintly to him and he smiled back. 

Bukcy leaned his forehead down to press against your and you could feel the tip of his equally cold nose on yours. You looked at each other waiting for the other to say something, anything.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you whispered.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he whispered back.

“Please.”

Bucky lips attached to yours ever so gently. Your body practically melted against him, chills raising on your skin but not from the cold. His hands caressed the skin of your stomach and ribs and you moved straddled his thighs.

You felt growing wet from the way he held you tenderly against him. You started grinding yourself against his crotch feeling his dick getting hard pressing up against your core. Small moans and breathy sighs emitted from you and Bucky and his hands roamed to your ass. 

Bucky’s lips went to neck and you threw your head back for him and threaded your fingers through his hair. Bucky nipped and bit down on the skin before soothing it over with his tongue and dragged it down to your collarbone. 

You reached around and unclipped your bra and Bucky tossed over to the pile of clothes you had discarded beforehand. Bucky looked down at your chest for a second but averted his eyes to prevent you from being uncomfortable. 

His hands however kneaded the flesh of your breasts; insanely warm against your skin. 

“You’re so pretty, darling,” Bucky whispered in your ear making you shudder.

He flipped you over; the blanket fell to the side making your nipples harden from the chilly air. He stood up to remove his boxers and ran his hands up your legs sensually playing with the hem of your panties you still had on. 

He looked at you with gentle eyes before you nodded eagerly for him to take them off. After he did he crawled up body before settling between your hips. His cock was settled against your pussy and it practically throbbed, aching for more. 

He pumped his cock with his hand a few times leaning down to capture your lips with his. When he slid inside, you moaned loudly taking a hold of his shoulders with your hands. Bucky was huge! Nothing like any of your past lovers, not that you really many. 

“Hold on, hold on. I just need a second,” you told Bucky. 

He leaned down and pressed kisses all over your face; your hands cupping his face and jaw giggling. You looked into eyes once again and nodded letting him know that it was alright to move again. 

Bucky was in absolute heaven right now.

Your walls felt so soft and velvety as he easily thrusted in and out of you. A thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead. His hand reached down your arm and he intertwined his fingers with yours resting by your head. 

Bucky had been dreaming of this moment longer than he’d like to admit. He never considered himself to be a shy person; and definitely not jealous either. But when he met you, he always stuttered and stumbled over his feet and words barely getting a working sentence out of his mouth. 

Whenever Steve or Sam spoke to you, and generally flirted a lot of the time, he envied them for being so relaxed around you. He’d wanted to ask you on a proper date and take you home to worship you like you deserve; wake up next to you and make love all over again. But he couldn’t say hi without turning bright red.

But here you were, a dream come true, squirming, whining and moaning beautifully under him. 

“You are so gorgeous, baby. God, I can’t believe you're here,” Bucky kissed you. 

“Oh, Bucky you feel so good,” you moaned.

“Fuck, baby you’re taking me so well,” he praised.

You both moaned feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your legs wrapped around Bucky’s torso driving him deeper in making you practically scream in pleasure. Bucky’s hips snapped in and out of you wildly desperate for that release he knows is going to be the best he’s ever had. 

When the coil in the pit of your stomach burst your back arched into Bucky and his face buried into your neck as he practically growled in pleasure. 

“Fuck that was amazing,” he kissed your neck and chuckled.

“Why are you always so shy around me? We probably could’ve done this way sooner,” you patted his back. 

“I, uh-”

“There you go stuttering again,” you giggled.

“I’m sorry. Y/n, I really like you and I have since I’ve met you. I don’t know why I feel so brain dead whenever I’m around you. I used to have no problem asking a pretty dame on a date, but when I met you, I couldn’t even say hi let alone ‘Hey wanna go on a date because I think you’re the most beautiful angel I’ve ever met in my goddamn life?’ It felt impossible,” Bucky sat up and sat you on his legs still wrapped in the blanket. 

“Bucky, I- oh,” you gasped.

“What?” you pointed to the wooden floor of the cabin. There were small buds and patches of grass coming through the cracks of the floorboards. There were also vines and branches covering the walls coming from the floor as well.

“Oh! Did I do that?” you looked back at him and he nodded.

“Oopsies,” you giggled.

“What if we had sex in the garden?” Bucky asked.

“Oh my gosh, Bucky!” you laughed.

“What?” a smile grew on his face watching you laugh in pure delight.

“You’re so silly,” you shook your head before yawning.

“Come on, doll. Let’s go sleep and we’ll see what’s gonna happen after the storm passes,” Bucky kissed you goodnight and you fell asleep comfortably in his arms.

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@mathletemadison 

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