#and then i catch myself with my right leg. why my left leg is worse than my right i couldnt tell U.

[orcelito]

A testament to how fucking Awful my post-hiking soreness has been. I got out of bed & had a moment of like "Wow! That wasn't verging on agonizing to do! My muscles Must be getting better!"

Then as I walked to the bathroom, I had a moment of "... 🤨 you're still limping, though."

[echobx]

Drunk - JJ Maybank × fem!reader

summary: JJ is taking care of his drunk girlfriend at a party

warnings: pure fluff, JJ PoV

word count: 1.4k

author's note: this was deep in my drafts bc it was originally not a reader fic, but I was never gonna finish it any more than what it is now. I hope you like it.

I watched y/n get up, her short dress had shimmied itself upwards, and she didn't even try to tug it down. She stumbled forward, and I jumped up and caught her before she could fall, pulling the fabric down just enough to cover her up more. 

“Please let go, I have to pee,” she announced but just as I did she started falling over her own feet and I had to catch her again. 

“Let me help you,” I said with a smile, and she looked at me confused. 

“Just this one time, and keep the hands where they belong,” she slurred. The whole walk to the bathroom she was tensed up in my arms and kept trying to shake me off. 

“I can pee by myself,” she sneered as I wanted to follow her in, to make sure she wouldn't fall and hurt herself.

“I really shouldn't leave you by yourself, you could get hurt,” I tried to convince her, but she gave me a firm “No” and closed the door. 

“Do you want to use the bathroom?” her voice was quiet and high-pitched. 

“No, princess, let's just get you back to the others,” I chuckled and wanted to take her in my arms, but she wouldn't let me.

“No touching,” she said and started walking, or more like wobbling over the hardwood floor in her five-inch heels, trying her best to navigate through the crowd. 

“Why are you following me?” she asked and turned around to me, and I would've nearly run into her. 

“I have to make sure you're okay, I always do that, darling,” I chuckled, but she seemed more confused about that. 

“You look familiar,” she mumbled, and I took her hand and pulled her into me. 

“Do I?” I whispered while staring at her lips before looking up into her gorgeous brown eyes. 

“Very,” she mumbled, the smell of tequila and vodka prominent in her breath. 

“Would be weird if I didn't,” I laughed and wanted to kiss her, but she turned her head quicker than I could react to it and I only hit her cheek. 

“It's impolite to kiss someone without asking first,” she noted and started walking again. 

The only seat that was left when we got back to our friends, was a single lounge chair and I simply let myself fall into it. 

“Where am I supposed to sit now?” y/n mumbled drunkenly. 

“Here,” I said and lightly slapped my thigh. 

“No, thank you,” she replied in a slightly disgusted tone. 

“I can get up and sit on the floor, would that make you feel better,” I suggested while our friends watched the scene and seemed rather amused by it.

“I can do that,” y/n said and nodded. I got up and let her sit, before placing myself right in front of her, leaning my head against her legs that she had pulled up onto the chair. 

“You are a very persistent young man,” y/n chuckled, and I turned my head to look at her. 

“You could say that, yes.” I grinned at her. It was clear to me that she didn't recognize me, too drunk to remember anything that happened to her, and it would be even worse the next day. 

“She really had way too much,” John B laughed. 

“Bird boy, why is this guy so interested in me? Doesn't he know that I have a boyfriend?” y/n spoke up, and I had to laugh, it wasn't like I would've been able to hold it back even if I had tried to. 

“Yeah, I'm thinking the same, very weird of you, guy,” JB played into it and I flipped him off, just to get smacked in the head by y/n. 

“That's my friend! Don't insult him!” She glared at me and the rest of the Crew just laughed. 

“I will be on my very best behavior, princess,” I whispered and kissed her hand while looking into her eyes. 

“I have a JJ,” she mumbled but couldn't stop herself from blushing.

“I know, I don't think he's going to mind, actually. Was just a hand kiss.” I winked at her. 

“That's not how that works. He's gonna find out and then break your pretty nose, very sad,” she sighed before looking back up at our friends. “He's really good at breaking noses.” 

“I believe he's good at other things too,” I said, and she tugged on my hair, her fingers entangled in my strands. 

“You have nice hair, mystery boy. Feels nice,” she mumbled.

“He's actually very jealous, you should look out, so you don't cross any paths with him,” Pope indulged in her drunk fantasy.

“I should take you home then, to make sure that he won't get any more jealous,” I said and got up, holding my hand out for y/n to take, but she refused. 

“No, thank you, I have friends who can bring me home. Strange mystery guys don't need to know where I live,” she replied and turned her head away from me. 

“Y/n, please, it's better if we go home now,” I tried to convince her, but she was still refusing me. 

“I'm not going,” she insisted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

“I'm gonna go get some food and water,” Kiara sighed and got up while I was still only focused on my girlfriend. 

“Tell me more about him. Your JJ,” I whispered to her, sitting back down in front of her, just this time, so I was facing her. 

“Oh, he's the best. I love my JJ,” she sighed and slumped in her seat. 

“Why do you love him?” I asked quietly, and she threw her hands in the air. 

“I can't explain it.”

“Pretty hard to explain, isn't it,” I mumbled, and she eyed me as if she was finally trying to understand who she was talking to, but it still didn't click. 

“You can tell us what you love about him,” Sarah suggested and y/n started grinning widely. 

“He's very talented, very talented I say. Yes, yes. My JJ can sing and draw and surf and fix things. Very good.” She nodded, and I had to chuckle over how cute she was being. “He's very good at sex too,” she admitted, and I stared at her with wide eyes.

“Tell us more,” Kiara giggled and put the pizza and water bottle down by my side. 

“Very good at that. Very. Sometimes he does this thing with his tongue-” I jumped up and put my hand over her mouth before she could spill any more of our secrets. 

“I think you should try some food before you keep talking, my love,” I suggested, but she didn't seem to like it. 

“You can't tell me anything, mystery boy,” she hissed at me. 

“I think we should play a game,” Kiara proposed and Sarah cheered, she was drunk too, not as drunk as y/n but drunk enough. 

“I like games. Sit down, boy,” y/n said and pointed at the floor next to her. I shook my head and chuckled, as long as she wouldn't accidentally hurt herself I had to be okay with it all. 

“What game are we playing?” I asked and held out the pizza for y/n to take a slice. 

“Oh, I know,” John B exclaimed and laid the empty tequila bottle onto the table and spun it. The neck pointed at y/n, who was still refusing to take a slice. 

“I dare you to eat a slice of this pizza, y/n/n,” JB said, and I gave him a thankful nod. 

“That's a stupid game,” she complained but took the slice either way, then she got up and spun the bottle too. 

We played for some time before Sarah's spin landed on me, and she yelled “kiss y/n/n” with all the strength she had left in her. 

I looked up at the girl I loved, but her eyes were filled with confusion, but also curiosity. “He wouldn't mind it, it's just a game, I promise,” I said to her while getting up and then pulling her into my arms. 

“Just a game,” she repeated and gazed at me. 

With one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek, I let my thumb grace over her lips. “Pretty lips,” I hummed and leaned in closer. I wanted to go slow, savor the moment even though she wouldn't be able to remember it the next day. My nose grazed hers and I could feel her drunk breath tingling on my lips. 

Her lips encompassed mine with urgency and care while her hands found their way into my neck. It felt like kissing her for the first time all over again; soft and lovingly. 

"You kiss nearly as good as my JJ," she whispered and I smirked.

"I fucking hope so."

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart @princessmaybank

[lemonyko0]

Drabble in which jk just rlly wants you to play with his hair...

» koo drabble since his recent live inspired me <3

» fluff, established relationship

so, you made a mistake. well, by normal standards it's not really a mistake, but definitely a recurring pattern since jungkook has learned it's a sure-fire way to get attention and affection from you. it'd be more interesting to say it was some sexy look, or a particular pair of jeans, but unfortunately that's not your reality.

instead, for the third time in one day, you hear the footsteps of your oh-so loving boyfriend pad around the house undoubtedly looking for you.

you tilt your head back on the couch and watch as he comes into view, smiling as he sees you, “y/n~” he coos, excitedly hopping over the back of the couch and right into your lap.

when you last saw him he was playing video games, occupying the tv in your bedroom so you left the room. therefore, there is no true reason why his hair should be as horrifically messy as it is right now, and yet he’s snuggled himself between your legs and is staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to fix his hair. he wants you to run your fingers through it like you always do, to fix his part and comb it with your nails, massage that pretty head of his and sprinkle it with kisses and you'd love nothing more than to give into him, but you don't.

you pretend like you have no idea what he’s after, and smile at him, “hi baby, done playing?”

he nods, leaning his head against your chest and ruining his hair even further, “yeah, my team won each round.”

you grin and instinctively reach a hand out to his head and pull back quickly, and instead rub his cheek. he pouts in response and you ask, “what?”

he sighs as he picks up your hand and moves it to the top of his head and staring at you in wait.

you chuckle as you let your hand slide down to his jaw and pinch his cheek, “does your head hurt? i bought more ibuprofen yesterday.”

“no.”

“then what?”

the pout grows each second you're not petting him and he whines into your body, “why aren't you fixing my hair?”

“you want me to fix it? i thought you were trying to leave it messy since you keep making it like that.”

you hear him quietly sigh between your arms as he starts to piece it together, “i was just making it messy so you’d fix it. i didn't think you’d catch on.”

you hum, “ahh, so you just wanted me to play with your hair? you could’ve just asked koo.”

he shook his head, “that's not as fun.”

“so it's more fun when you're tricking me into doing it?” he nods cheekily, staring up at you with a grin. “you think you're soooo slick.” you roll your eyes and start to poke at his ticklish places as he squirms around on the couch trying to escape you, but you've got him tied between your legs and weakened by your relentless teasing until he’s pleading with you between giggles and his reddened face.

“pl-please! y/n! i'm s-sorry! please!” he laughs and you pull back, resting against the couch once more as he catches his breath, and if at all possible, his hair is even worse now than it was before.

“gosh, now your hair’s actually a mess.”

he rolls dramatically off of the couch and onto his butt on the floor, “guess i'll go fix it myself.”

you chuckle, watching him not even move a muscle. he slowly looks up to you and just stares in wait. he then pushes himself closer and closer to you until his head is practically in your lap, staring at you with a cheesy grin. “please?”

you take his face in your hands and lean down to him, “i love playing with your hair koo. just ask.”

he nods excitedly, “so will you?”

you pat the couch and he resumes his original spot, just without the pout. he relaxes against you, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his torso, arranging you exactly how he likes it and asking if your comfy.

“of course.” you kiss the side of his head and you don't need to see his smile to know he is, and to no surprise at all he’s practically purring the second you run your fingers through his hair, and asleep in your lap within only a few minutes.

you can't fault him though, as you're out like a light too in half the time.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚

thanks for reading and if you wish it didn't end so soon, i have tons and tons more in my masterlist, coded and everything <3

masterlist | taglist

taglist: @marvelahsobx @notbotheredtho @fragmentof-indifference @jwnghyuns @isab3lita @shescharlie @kooookie @jeonzll @laylasbunbunny @instabull @xjiminsthighsx @iceykoo @ash07128

[sp3ncerr31dsw1f3]

i love you

an: lol my first ever fanfic lmfao pls dont bully me and I'm sorry I'm making so many changes after proof reading (song: i love you by billie eilish)

warnings: mentions of blood, death and stabbing, i think that's it pls lemme know if i missed any!

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

genre: angst with happy ending, fluff

It was like any other case. I do my part and the others do theirs. Or so I thought. I was hurt almost a month back from a stab wound to the side when I should've been paying attention. Spencer was on the way to warn me, but it was too late. I was laying in a pool of my own blood. I heard Spencer's name in an echo. I could't respond, on the verge of death. If he hadn't come in time, I probably would've been dead. Spencer and I had an argument before us coming on this case because today wasn't actually the day I was supposed to return. I actaually had one and a half weeks left, but of course, boy genius found out. We bickered about, but I ended up coming anyway and he didn't say a word to me the whole flight here, nor did he look at me.

Right now, we're on another life risking case. Trying to find a little girl and the man somewhere in the house hiding with her. Spencer along side of me, closer than he'd usually be before I got stabbed. He's trying to prevent what happened last time from happening again. I appreciate that, but if he ever got hurt, or worse, killed because of me being unattentive of my surroundings, I'd never be able to forgive myself. I shake off the thought when I hear a muffled scream and a man yelling 'shut up'. Instinctivley, Spencer moves in front of me. I hold my gun a bit to my waist, again, not the best idea. "Come out!", Spencer yells. "We're the FBI!", he yells out once again, turning towards me and nodding his head to where the sounds were coming from. I was thrown off by the fact that he didn't even look at me when he turned my way. He looked a bit past me, which kind of made me upset. I stand by the door with my back towards the wall as he kicks in the door. The man suddenly lets go of the small girl and charged towards Spencer and in that moment I froze. My fault. If he dies, It's all my fault. The man punched Spencer twice before I point my gun towards the man, but as I did, he saw me and immediately started charging toward me. Out of shock, remembering what happened to me last time, I drop. The man hovering me. I close my eyes tight, while he has a knife to my throat.

Once again, I hear Spencer's name, but loud and clear this time. My eyes shoot open and I use my free hand, which is close to the knife on my thigh and reach for it. I quickly stab the man in his leg repeatedly until he's off of me. Spencer immediately rushes over to the man and puts him in cuffs. He then comes over to me whose catching my breath that I held in and from the man's weight. "Are you okay?", he asks worriedly, scanning my body. I nod and point to where the little girl is, signaling him to help her first. I get up feeling a familiar pain where I was stabbed. I lift up my shirt only to see the stitching being opened. I pull it back down when I see Spencer carrying the little girl in his arms. I rush over to her. "Are you okay, sweet girl?", I ask the small girl. She nods and starts to cry. I tell Spencer to take her to Emily and I'll be there in a bit. Right after Spencer settles the girl with Emily, he immediately comes back to me with a worried expression. "Y/N...are you okay?", he asks coming closer. "It hurts, Spencer.", I say with tears in my eyes. I was talking both about the argument and the wound. I couldn't stand being on bad terms with Spencer. He was the love of my life, though he doesn't know that.

"What hurts, Y/N?", he asked, scanning my face, noticing I'm in both mental and physical pain. He then scans my body and spots the blood on the side of my shirt. "Oh God, did he do that?", he asked, his voice shaking. "Why didn't you just listen to your doctor and stay back?", he looks at me while holding the wound as it continuously bled. My legs are wobbling, not just from the pain, but the mental exaustion. He was right. I should've listened. I am not mentally nor physically ready yet. We get to the ambulance that was already outside. "Please help her.", Spencer says desperately to the medic. I get into the back of the second ambulance as Spencer informs the team what happened. I saw him open the back of the ambulance with me. "Hey, angel. We're gonna get you help, okay?", he says, wiping the tears off of my face. The exaustion soon took over and I passed out. I soon wake up in the hospital bed. The wound feeling a bit better. They restitched it. I turn to my side to see Spencer fast asleep with his head resting on the side of the bed. I weakly place my hands in his hair, which made him stir and slowly open his eyes.

"Hi, sweet girl. They brought you food.", he says. "Hi, Spence. You can have the jello", I smile at him. "Really?, Thank you.", he says exictedly, but he has tears in his eyes. "Angel?", he says. I hum in response. "Please, please listen to your doctor." he says pleadingly. "They're mostly always right.", he says holding his hand in mine. I smile and chuckle. "Yeah, I know.", I say reffering to him. He laughs along, but says in a trying to be serious tone, "No, but really, Y/N. I can't lose you. I almost did. Twice.", he pauses for a moment. "I love you, Y/N. So so much.", he says bringing my palm to his face. My heart skips a beat and my eyes well with tears, never expecting that from him. "I love you too, Spence.", I say with a shaky voice while brushing my thumb over his teary cheek. "So so much."

[justsomeclintasha]

“Sit.” He shuts the door behind him and perches on the edge of the chair. Coulson regards him from behind his desk. “She’s not settling in,” he says bluntly. “She’s in holding. Mitchell is in medical with a busted lip and Stoker has a black eye. Something you care to share?”

“No, I haven’t seen her at all this morning. Are you sure-“

“She admitted to it. Attacked them unprovoked. I need you to figure this out. There are a lot of eyes on us right now. This can’t happen again.”

“What are you saying?”

“You need to convince the board that this was the right call.”

“Or what? They’ll kill her? Put her down like some kind of wild animal?”

“I didn’t say that.” Clint glares at him, and Coulson speaks again, his voice soft. “I think some time in the country might do her good. You could both use a break. Do you know a place?”

XXXXX

Gravel crunches under her sneakers as she steps out of the truck, taking in the old farmhouse. He grabs their bags from the back seat.

“Look. There are cows over there in that field.” She points, eyes a little brighter at the sight of the animals. He follows her gaze.

“Yep. That’s the nearest neighbor. Nice and quiet out here.” She moves to take her bag. He passes it over and leads them inside, giving her a brief tour of everything.

“Kind of unusual for a safe house, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a safe house.” She pauses, and he catches the tension in her stance. “It’s mine. Shield doesn’t know about it.”

“Why?” He shrugs, flicking through cover stories, then finally settles on the truth with a sigh.

“It was my house growing up. Back then it was a nightmare, but now it’s somewhere just for me to get away.”

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, feeling like she ruined it.

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t want to.”

XXXXX

He watches her from the kitchen as he stirs the pasta on the stove. They’ve been here three days and she’s finally started to relax. The porch is her favorite area, and it’s where she sits now, legs tucked under her and damp hair falling in curls around her shoulders. She reaches out to pick up a caterpillar.

The ring of his phone startles him.

“Barton.”

“Clint, we need to talk.” Coulson’s tone causes his stomach to drop. He sets the spoon aside and leans on the counter.

“What is it?”

“Stoker and Mitchell ambushed her. They pushed her into an empty office room and tried to-“

“Fuck-“

“They didn’t-“

“Fuck, Coulson, are you sure? Are you sure they didn’t?”

“I’m positive. She defended herself and left the room immediately. It’s all on video.” Outside Natasha lets the caterpillar crawl up her finger, laughing softly as it gets to the tip. “They’ve been fired, of course.”

“They deserve worse.”

“You still have two weeks. Call me with updates.” Clint huffs out a breath. She sets the caterpillar down in the grass.

XXXXX

“I promised you a safe space,” he says quietly. She tucks her fingers into the sleeves of her hoodie, watching the fireflies in the field.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t even ask.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

And they’re at a standstill. He swallows the lump in his throat. The silence drags on.

“I grew up here. After my parents died, my brother and I ran off to join the circus.”

“People don’t actually do that.”

“Seriously.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Got into a lot of bad shit back then. Coulson gave me a second chance and I was afraid to let myself have it. I fought him a lot. It was hard,” he admits. “And I wanted it to be different for you.”

She sips her tea, considering. They both watch as a deer emerges from the tree line. A fawn follows close behind.

“It is different though,” she says finally. “Because you didn’t have anyone you can trust. And I do.”

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Part 15)

In which there is a tub in which they sit, also Astarion with wet hair looking like a puppy and Tav's getting hauled around like a sack of potatoes at the end (so keep reading). But be warned, this actually turned a lot more sad halfway through then I thought (doesn't end like that tho). Totally not another chapter that went down very much differently from what I planned, but we love that, right? Right?

Song for this one: lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion / Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: Some talk of past trauma (Tav's, not Astarion's)

(Gif from here!)

“Ouch – I know they say partners tend to take on each other’s quirks and habits but maybe you could’ve picked another one of mine out of the catalogue of admirable virtues”, Astarion said jokingly while shaking his hand. You could actually clearly see the bite marks you’d left and blushed shamefully. “Sorry”, you only answered. You felt incredibly exhausted now – as much from the sex probably as from everything else that had happened. You let your head again, only just noticed that the markings had dimly started to glow again – you could easily figure why. But you were even too exhausted to bring that up right now – and neither did the vampire.

Astarion noticed your change in dynamic and softly put his hand under your chin to lift your head up again: “It’s fine, my love, I’ve experienced much worse than some few harmless love bites.” He winked at you.

Rain kept pouring on the both of you. You were soaked to the bone, clothes clinging to your bodies. Astarion’s curls hung adorably around his face and were dripping from the raindrops – reminding you just the slightest bit of a wet poodle. A sudden urge to hug him overcame you and it was easy to give in. “I love you, Astarion”, you simply said and savored the feeling of being close to him. He put his cheek on the crown of your head in response: “I love you too, Tav.”

And so you stood there for several heartbeats just holding each other while the rain pattered down all around you. “Let’s get you home, love, and let’s run you a hot bath before you catch a cold”, Astarion said finally and gave you a pat on the back to signal you to go.

You nodded. “Will” – a hearty yawn interrupted the sentence you had only just started – “will you be joining?” “The fact that you even have to ask shows just how much you have yet to learn about me”, Astarion replied and pinched your butt as you both started walking – heading towards home. “Also I think despite the rain I have to wash some of your former friend’s blood off myself.”

You walked home trying to be inconspicuous because you both looked like a hot mess to be frank. Idly chatting you made it all the way to your townhouse in the Upper City and by the time you were at your front door and Astarion was unlocking the door for you, you were shivering so bad from the cold and the wet that you couldn’t stop your teeth from shattering. All while in the mean time you could already feel carnal hunger rise up inside you again because of the way the wet shirt clung to Astarion’s chest and how he kept running his hand through his soaking wet hair.

You went inside and immediately went to the bathroom where the pleasant luxury of an enormous tub in the marble floor and even hot running water awaited you. Astarion started the hot water tap and since you couldn’t stop staring at him and biting your lip, he had you again right there, next to the tub on the bathroom floor.

Afterwards you actually managed to keep your hands off each other long enough to climb into the blissfully hot water and scrub yourselves clean. Now you sat between Astarion’s legs with your back leaning against his chest while he was washing your hair and massaging your scalp. “How long has it been since you’ve last taken these braids out, love?” “Hmm?”, you only mustered while you had your eyes closed and enjoyed the feeling of his Astarion’s skilled hands caressing you into oblivion.

The elf stopped and put his hands on top of your head and made it arch to him: “Your braids, love, they look… dare I say… worse than some rats I’ve had to encounter.” You blinked at him upside down, not trusting your ears about what you just heard. “If you think it’s enough to get me drunk and only fuck me twice before throwing shade at me like that I sincerely hope you’ve made peace with your un-life coming to an end”, you answered slowly. Astarion’s lips crept into a naughty smile: “We could make it three times before I also start commenting on your choice of clothing, my love.” You stared at the bastard for a moment before you elbowed him with a lightning-quick movement that caused a huge splash water. But dampened by the water the hit was no more than a love tap and Astarion started laughing: “First the biting, then the matted fur, now the unnecessary violence – really makes me think of one of those orange street cats.” “I can bite your ass again if that’s really what you are asking for”, you hissed at him and tried to splash him with water but only partially succeeded. The vampire just kept laughing.

“Is it really that bad though?”, you asked him, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you started to think about how you might look compared to the impeccably groomed high elf, your shoulders slumped a little. The comparison to a street cat had actually hit closer to home than you would have liked. “Let me see what I can do, my love.” He started to carefully sort out the braids on the right side of your head. “Also – I do apologise if my dumb remarks were hurtful to you. I merely meant to tease you. If it still counts: you are the most beautiful person to me I’ve ever met and I actually do think cats are fierce creatures and deserve all the admiration they can get – especially orange street cats”, he blabbered and pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head. It was obvious that he was worried now that he might have hurt you for real and was trying to gloss over it.

“Apology accepted”, you said and leaned into his touch. “Also” – you sighed – “I mean you are right, I might’ve not taken the best care of myself so far. It might actually a good idea to take on some of your vanity in that regard.” “That rather than the biting”, Astarion immediately threw in cheerfully, obviously relieved by your reaction and kept trying to untangle your braids.

“It’s just”, you started to add and sigh again “when you call me a street cat, I fear it’s more accurate than you might think. I lived on the streets of this city a longer time than I’ve lived under a roof.” The vampire’s hands slowed but he simply kept listening. “There were sometimes months on end when I didn’t really have an opportunity to just simply wash myself. Weeks in which I could merely get scraps of food and I was so thin you could count the rips through my tattered clothes. And… I’m sorry I’m rambling on about the past.” Your words end in a silent whisper. A lot of memories suddenly well up and you didn’t really feel like ruining the rest of the evening with unpleasant memories that lay well in the past.

“No, please, if you want to talk about it, I really want to hear what you have to say, my love.” Astarion let go of your hair and let his hands wander under the surface of the water to grab one of your hands and press it to his lips. “After all, you really taught me how healing it can be to talk about your past and trauma – and if I have the opportunity to do the same for you…”, he said and softly grabbed your chin to turn your face to his. His eyes looked suspiciously wet but shone with warmth and kindness. You could feel the tears coming now too, so you took a deep breather and stared at the ceiling for a good few moments before you continued.

“It’s just that I’ve never been able to have something good for long. My friends that you’ve met tonight – or rather the few remaining ones – are the only real good thing I had going for me for the longest time. And all this” – you raised an arm to signify everything around you and then moved to face the vampire better – “and especially and most of all: you” – you looked at Astarion and felt your throat close up – “are the best, the truly and honestly BEST thing that has ever happened to me. And when I lay with you or laugh with you or kiss you or talk to you I am as happy as I ever was in my life. But still…”

Your words got caught in your throat and the tears had started streaming down both of your cheeks.

“I cannot stop to wonder when the other shoe is going to drop”, you whispered hoarsely while you felt your lips quiver. And after you had finished you could do nothing but give in to your negative emotions overwhelming you. You closed your hands while the tears ran freely and you let out basically a howl of sorrow while you let your face lift skywards.

Sobs kept shaking your body as Astarion drew you in close and held you. Simply held you and kept talking you through your outbreak of emotions. His husky tone betrayed he felt and cried with and for you.

When your sobs subsided, you felt kind of empty – but better. Astarion kept rubbing circles on your shoulders and whispering to you. You lifted your head up to look at him but before you could say something he swiftly laid a finger on your lips to hush you. “First, let me say my thing please. And please don’t apologise for crying.” He’d caught you and the fact that he did made you already almost start to giggle again in a sudden burst of post-crying hysteria, but you simply nodded at him. “For as long as I live – or well, you know exist” – now you couldn’t help but giggle a little – “I’ll vow that I will take care of you and stay with you and that will do my best to keep you warm and fed and happy”, Astarion spoke solemnly while you could see tears well up in his eyes again. And it did exactly nothing to stop you from starting to cry again.

“No, hush, that’s enough tears for one night – it can’t be healthy to cry this much in one night, hush, love”, the vampire rambled in a panicky tone, obviously flustered and worried about how he could stop the well that you had become. But your tears dried up much quicker now. You wiped some leftovers from your eyes: “Now tell, is there any hope for my hair?” At that the elf grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at you while he started working on your matted braids again. After some time in now comfortable silence he gasped happily. “It might’ve been a challenge but here we go, all untangled”, he cheerfully declared and winked at you. “And are you going to re-braid it, or…” Astarion pursed his lips at you and angled his head to one side: “I think I actually quite like this look on you, at least for tonight.” You shrugged as if you didn’t care but blushed a little nonetheless.

“Now, my sweet, let’s get you out of the water, you surely have been soaked enough for one night. He gave you a little slap on the butt under the water, then grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder as if you were a sack of potatoes. Then he stood up and stepped out of the tub. You giggled and pinched his butt – to which you received a hearty slap onto yours.

He made you stand on the floor again to which you reacted with pouting because you had actually enjoyed his silly little act. But he only grabbed two very fuzzy towels, wrapped one around his hips – which made you pout even more because you had also enjoyed the view – and the other around you. Then he threw you over his shoulder once more which made you again giggle like a silly, lovesick teenage girl.

Astarion lovingly patted your backside while carrying you to the bedroom: “Now now, let’s make you think of other things, hm, my dear?” “Is that a promise?”, you replied in a cheeky tone. “It’s whatever you might want it to be, love.”

Tags: @daedriclys @angelofthorr @starved-kitten

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 01 - Steer

Some seagulls cried and began to fly in circles above his head as Nhagi'ra pulled the small boat through the sand and towards the water. For a moment he paused and looked at the feathery thieves with a hand over his eyes but was still blinded by the bright warm sun shining down from an endlessly blue sky.

The next thing he heard wasn’t a seagull, although it sounded equally excited - just not that positively excited.

“Hey!”, the Hyur woman yelled at him from the other side of the beach. Without hesitation she threw her basket into the sand and ran towards him. “What do you think you are doing there!?”

Nhagi'ra let go of the boat and instead put his hands onto his hip in a self-confident gesture. “I’m going to go fishing!”, he declared proudly but if it was praise he expected he wasn’t going to get it.

“Don’t be silly! I bet you have no idea how to fish! And neither do I remember allowing you to use my boat!”, the woman retorted and grabbed the rope from his hand, that normally would be used to moor the boat at its landing and which the Miqo'te had used to pull the vessel over the beach.

Dumbstruck Nhagi'ra let her take it. He hadn’t expected her to be angry. On the contrary! He had wanted to do her a favor and had assumed she would be happy about it.

“But Elsie, you said I owe you! You fixed my leg, you gave me food and let me stay all this time, so I wanted to pay you back somehow! I thought it would be good if you had more to sell than the few crabs you catch in those nets at the dock.”

“So you decided to steal my father’s boat?”, her voice was clearly angry and Nhagi'ra honestly couldn’t understand why.

“No!… Borrow it maybe?… I guess I should have asked first though…”, he admitted quietly and paused while Elsie nodded, before asking. “But why did you have it fixed when you aren’t planning to use it?”

She looked like she wanted to say “That’s none of your business!” but instead she crossed her arms in front of her chest and asked, “Who says I wasn’t planning to use it?”

“When though?”, the Miqo'te replied. “When there are no crabs left to sell and you will have to eat seaweed because you can’t afford food anymore?”

Elsie fell silent and somehow Nhagi'ra suddenly felt like he said something wrong. “I am sorry… It is none of my business…”

“No. You are right..”, the woman replied. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

She let go of the rope and instead ran one hand over the hull of the boat. “You know, it was my father’s boat... When Dalamud’s shards caused the sea to rise we wanted to flee to the village. We hoped it would be far enough, high enough, so the water wouldn’t reach us there. But then that silly old fool went back! Said his boat wasn’t moored well enough and that it was our only way of making money, that we would starve without it!”, she explained and Nhagi'ra could see her fighting against tears and felt even worse for having asked at all.

“Of course he saved the stupid boat!”, she continued in a mocking tone. “It was damaged but still here the next morning! But my silly old father was washed away by the flood and never seen again! I thought if I just fixed that damn boat…”

Her voice trailed off and she stared to the sand at their feet with a sad expression.

“I am so sorry…”, Nhagi'ra offered, his ears flat at his head. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s fine. You are right after all. Fixing this old thing may not give me my father back but since it is fixed now I should also use it!”

Just like that the shadow on her face was gone again and with expectation in her eyes she stared at him. When he just stared back cluelessly, she raised her eyebrows and pointed at the boat with one hand. “Now are you going to get this thing into the water or will I have to do that myself?”

Immediately Nhagi'ra snapped back to attention and hurried to push the boat the last few meters over the sand without more questions, although he certainly had a few.

Finally his feet reached the water and he felt the weight of the boat lifted from his arms as the vessel began to float. For a second they both just stared at it as if they were surprised that it really swam, then Elsie exclaimed. “Now, jump in, before it goes off without us!”

Hurriedly they climbed into the vessel and to Nhagi'ra’s surprise it was a weird and wobbly sensation beneath his feet. He hadn’t thought about it feeling much different than standing on solid ground, after all the ship that had brought him to Limsa Lominsa hadn’t swayed like this, but now he felt like the boat could capsize any moment and suddenly remembered that his swimming skills were really not the best.

While he still tried to steady himself, he heard Elsie chuckle. “Do you even know how to steer a boat?”, she asked with a hint of mockery in her voice.

“Uhm... maybe not...”, the Miqo'te hesitated. He had spent most of his life in the Black Shroud and his adventurer's work hadn’t brought him to the ocean before but after making such big announcements ealier he couldn’t admit that now, especially not to a girl from La Noscea, could he? So instead he put on a confident smile and asked, “But how difficult can it be?”

Elsie raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh, you think you can figure this out on your own? Be my guest!”

Nhagi'ra shrugged and started to work on what he assumed was the mechanism to set the small sail. For a few minutes he tried this and that but only managed to get himself tangled up in a rope and almost stumble overboard.

“More difficult than you thought, isn’t it?”, the Hyur woman chuckled.

“Maybe a little”, he murmured as he freed his leg from the rope that had curled around his ankle somehow. “Do YOU know how to steer this ship though?”

Elsie scoffed. “It’s a boat and of course I do! Do you honestly think my father didn’t teach me?”

Nhagi'ra shrugged. “Don’t know…”

“Why wouldn’t he? Because I’m not a man?”, she complained but her words lacked sharpness. Instead it sounded more sarcastic as she continued. “You thought I needed your help with this? Haven’t you learned your lesson the first time? You know, when you tried to save a poor helpless woman from a monster and ended up breaking your leg while she shooed off the creature by herself?”

Nhagi'ra rubbed his neck and felt his face heat up. “Sure, go ahead, rub salt into my wounds…”

Elsie laughed a high, clear laugh that was strangely infectious, so even Nhagi'ra had to grin about his own stupidity.

“Alright, please teach me the art of boat-steering, oh great master Elsie!”

Calmly and patiently she showed him how to set the small sail, taught him how to use the tiller to steer the ship into the right direction and explained to him how and where to best use what nets. Carefully he mimicked what she did and to his surprise it worked better than he had expected after his first failed attempt.

Nhagi'ra couldn’t tell how long they were gone but by the time the beach with the small dock and Elsie’s home appeared again on the horizon, the sky was already turning orange and he felt pretty exhausted. With combined strength they pulled the last fishing net back onto the boat and proudly the Miqo'te observed their catch.

“Woah! Look at that one! I’ve never seen a fish like that before!”

Elsie chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Quite a good catch for your first tour! Maybe you should consider a career change. I think we could make a decent fisherman out of you after all!”

[prettyjunk]

꩜ flesh for fantasy ꩜

pairing: izzy stradlin x reader

warnings: nsfw/+18.

summary: izzy and you go out, and you make him leave early. the rest is history !

a/n: first fic!! hopefully it’s alright:)

requests are open!!

.✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

“—You know what I mean?”

You nodded. For a while, you were just staring at him consumed by your thoughts— inner teenager thoughts, and you couldn't bring yourself to pay attention to what your friend was saying.

"Yeah, totally." Duff gave you a satisfied smile; thinking you agreed with his point of view on... Whatever he was ranting about, and left the couch you three were sitting on.

The place was cold. It was mid november, and not even 100 people on a house that was meant for 6 could keep you from putting your hands between your thighs looking for warmth. The crowd only helped with making the little house smell worse.

"Can I ask you why you felt the need to come here tonight, Iz?" You rested your head on his shoulder, glancing at him over your long lashes.

"Can't tell ya'. I don't know that myself." He took a sip from the red cup on his hand, looking down on you and giving you a quick grin. "Regretting it?"

You shook your head, grabbing his hand and playing with his ring covered fingers. "Not really. Just bored. And cold."

"Give it a while, baby. It’s still early, things get interesting after one." He patted your thigh and got up from the couch, not letting go of your hand so you'd follow him. "Sometimes two."

You pouted, and he laughed. Izzy wasn't really good at catching hints (or so you thought), and you clearly failed to show him you wanted to leave and do something else. Something very specific.

The night went by, and you'd find yourself fantasizing about a guy that was right next to you. He kept himself busy talking to a bunch of people about a bunch of nonsense— drugs, music, and whatever was going on with MTV. As time passed you grew more and more impatient, staring at him with big doe eyes hoping he'd look at you and fuck you stupid in his car.

He didn't.

But funny enough, he would unconsciously encourage your dirty thoughts with small actions; hands always on your waist, caressing it while chatting with his friends, whispering things in your ear out of nowhere, and putting more cologne on than usual before coming.

"What's up?" Izzy looked down to you when he noticed you were weirdly quiet.

You gave him a dirty look. "Now you wanna' know?"

He grinned. "You think I don't know?"

You looked up to find a smirk on his lips. He tilted his head when you didn't answer, raising his hand to your chin to stroke it with his thumb. This had happened so many times, yet you always found yourself surprised when it did.

"Your neediness is not slip, sweetheart." He whispered, lowering to your height. "Pouting, crossing your legs, almost whimpering every time you'd feel my touch—" You frowned and stepped away.

Bastard.

"You're awful."

"And yet you're begging for me."

You shook your head, and started walking away. You heard Izzy say loud goodbyes, and you sped up to the car. Neither of you said anything as you walked to the car. Your arms were crossed— both from the cold and the brattiness. He wanted to tease? Fine. You could play along.

On the car ride back home, Izzy placed his hand on your thigh, stroking it swiftly with his fingers and tapping it to the rhythm of an unknown blues song that played quietly on the old car's radio. As he did so, an idea popped into your head, and you unbuckled your seatbelt.

"You know," You spoke, quickly gaining his attention when you moved your hand to the waist band of his pants, slowly unbuttoning them. "Whenever i get worked up on a public place, I can't really help myself from thinking of you like this." When you started palming him, he was quick to tighten the grip around the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. “Taking you to the car, and jerk you off slowly. I have to squeeze my thighs together so I can try and calm myself down. But it doesn't work as well as your fingers, Iz."

His jaw was so clenched to the point where it looked sharp, and his breathing got slightly quicker. Izzy wouldn't take his eyes of the road, even when his face burned from your staring.

And he still tried to look unbothered.

"Careful, sweetheart.” He gritted through his teeth when you started palming him through his boxers, your touch being so gentle and light over his hard-on.

"I just want you to feel like I feel." You whined, getting closer to him, so you could whisper in his ear. "I want to tease you the way you tease me." Your hand slipped past his boxers and worked up and down his length a couple times, smiling at his annoyed face while he drove.

"You don't get to do that."

You smirked. "Alright then." You gave him a peck on his cheek, and leaned back to sit the way you were supposed to, leaving him unattended and with his pants unbuttoned.

Izzy turned his head to face you with a confused look on his face, and you couldn't help but giggle. He shook his head— tongue on his cheek, and he looked at you. “Eyes on the road, baby.” You forced him to turn his head with your hand.

He left the car as soon as he parked it in front of his house, almost running to get the door and leave you behind. You took your time, going through your purse pretending to look for something just to mess with him.

It was a game you both often played— who could tease longer without losing their mind?

When you stepped a foot into the house, he grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, kissing you like he had been starved for weeks.

"Funny how tables turn, huh?" You teased in between kisses, grabbing his cheeks with your hands to get him closer to you as you stood on your tippy-toes.

Izzy didn't respond; he didn't intend to. He had a big ego— bigger than most people could tell, but he knew his place most of the time. This time, you won.

You started walking towards the couch, making him walk backwards, completely having to trust the fact that you wouldn't throw him into the floor. Not that he wouldn't like that; he would fuck you wherever/whenever, but his back would pay later. Before throwing him into the couch you lifted his shirt and threw it to the floor, feeling like it was a waste to also take his pants off if they were half down anyway.

"Don't get too excited." He mewled into your mouth when you straddled him, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. "I'm just letting you have some fun."

"Is that so?" You teased, tracing your fingers down his chest painfully slow. "I don't think you mean that." When he looked back at you, you were quick to smirk and lower yourself down to his neck, kissing and biting whatever you lips could find. Even after a long day, you could still smell Izzy's cheap cologne on his neck, and a slight scent of the marlboro reds that are now far gone.

Instead of gliding your hand down into his pants, you shifted yourself on top of his bulge, moving your hips forward and back painfully slow as you felt his breathing hitch.

Izzy groaned and you quickly left his neck to kiss him again, involving yourself in a deep intoxicating kiss. It was wet; it being the only sound that echoed the house plus your quiet noises. You constantly whimpered in his mouth, and that made him go crazy.

It was a signal that you finally gave up on the control, and just wanted to have him; any way you could have him. As much as he enjoyed watch you take the lead and try to mimic his actions, Izzy liked you better beneath him; big puppy eyes begging for something— anything he could give you.

“This," Izzy broke the kiss without separating himself from you, your lips rubbing against his the same as your hips. "We could be doing anywhere, darling." He laid his thumb on your lips, caressing it. He swiftly smiled when he noticed how swollen they'd gotten in such little time.

Following his action, his hand travelled down your body expertly until getting between your legs, quickly lifting your skirt and sneaking his fingers below your underwear, introducing two fingers with no warning.

His smirk grew unholy as soon as he felt how wet you were. "However, this—" He spoke softly, but in an insufferable tone. "Actually, I take it back. I bet that you would fuck yourself with my fingers anywhere if I let you." You rolled your eyes as a response; hiding the fact that his words were having an effect on you, and he answered by circling your clit with his thumb, quickly shutting your brattiness up. "Isn’t that so?"

You shook your head, starting to move your waist with his fingers to try and get more— reach deeper. He introduced another finger as he spoke, using his other hand to keep your hair away from your face so he could study your features; the way you're falling apart beneath his touch. "Right. because to everyone, you're this pretty little girl; so sweet and innocent." He moved his hand to the sweet spot behind your ear, caressing it and earning a whimper from you. "But to me," Izzy whispered and you interrupted him with your moans as they got higher, shutting your eyes up and grabbing his shoulders tightly. He got carried away watching you— the way your nose flickered when the waves of pleasure hit you over and over again.

You were close, so painfully near the edge—

"Izzy!'

You cried out when you felt the lack of his touch. You opened your eyes to find him smirking, attentive to what your response would be. You whined, tilting your head back and unconsciously pouting your lips as you frantically moved your hips looking for friction. He was quick to steady then with his hands.

"You didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?" You did. you always fell for it— a sick game that he enjoys so much when he does it, but is quick to shut down when it's his turn. “Plus, its payback."

You scoffed. "You’ve had me waiting all night."

"Wait a little longer. You know I like to take my time." He ran his hands along your naked legs, and proceeded to take off your skirt and underwear. You lifted yourself up from his lap to do so and took off your shirt as well, as he grabbed a condom from his pants. He took this an opportunity to pin you below him, and finally have you completely helpless below him. The lights were dim, and you looked completely angelic beneath his shadow; cheeks flushed and teary eyes stained with mascara around them.

He ran a hand down your cheek before positioning himself. You sweetly smiled at him— even when teasing the shit out of you, he took care of you. He was gentle even when he was trying to be mean. "What's in your mind?" Izzy interrupted your thoughts when he noticed you were smiling all of the sudden while looking at him.

"Nothing." You lifted yourself up and kissed him, locking your hands around his neck. "I love you, you know."

His gaze softened. "I love you. But I wanna fuck you more."

You quietly scoffed and opened your mouth to say something, but he shut you up with the tip of his cock. Even after months and months of this very same routine— it took adjusting.

You mewled and dragged him down to kiss you again, deepening the kiss as much as you could while he steadied himself inside you, slowly. "Alright?" You nodded, opening your doe eyes to let him know that he could move. And he did, toying with your tits to make you put the burn of your bodies behind and make you drown in pleasure.

Because that's the part Izzy liked the most. Watch you unravel; hear you fall apart. It was intoxicating— his own private show. And it was the only time where his mind would forget about everything else, a feeling not even junk and booze could bring him. Everything came down to you. Your smell, the way your whimpers bounced on the walls, and the redness of your cheeks when he talked you through it.

"That's it, look at you." He praised when your eyebrows furrowed as he started to speed up the pace, exhaling at the same time you sharply inhaled. You buried your fingernails in the skin of his back, earning a deep groan from him that made you clench, so he laughed. "You feel so fucking good, so fucking—" He hid himself on the crook of your neck, hiding his moans below your hair. You grabbed a handful of his to make him kiss you, hot breath clouding all your senses.

"Izzy." You whined lowly, giving him a warning that you were close. You didn't even need to say it, he could tell by the way you spoke and how your thighs were shaking beneath his palms.

"I know, baby, I know. let go."

And you did. Who were you to disobey him?

Without meaning to you broke the kiss, but not the distance between you two. He lowered his fingers to your clit, circling it to the rhythm of his thrusts and you felt ecstasy fill all your senses. You threw your head back, and even in the middle of your drowning you felt him come down with you too. He threw his hand above your hand grabbing the couch hard enough to break it, and it all came down to one thing.

And after a few more seconds, he collapsed on top of you, breathing harshly; intoxicated by your smell. You rested for a couple seconds before caressing his hair gently, kissing whatever piece of flesh your lips could find. He purred and kissed your neck, feeling your heartbeat slowly go back to normal.

"Darling," He mumbled on the crook of your neck. You hummed. "I forgot my fucking jacket."

You giggled and sighed. "Really?" Izzy nodded.

"I really liked that jacket."

"Okay." You moved to rest on your shoulders, trying to get up so you could dress yourself up and go to the car, only to fall on your back again because of the overstimulating sensation between your legs.

He laughed, lifting himself up slightly. "'M still inside you, you know." You whimpered.

"I didn’t know."

He shook his head. "I prefer this over my jacket."

[youwouldntlietopapa]

Horns

Rating: 18+

Features: Dew x GN!Reader

Tags: cuddles, anxiety, kinks, embarrassment, oral sex, horn stimulation

(Also available on AO3)

_____________________________________________________

The room is quiet apart from the tv, playing some movie you haven’t been paying attention to. Too warm and comfortable to care what it is. Dew’s bed is surprisingly plush and Dew is always warm, if not hot. But, right then, it’s not the inferno of his anger or frustration. It’s the content, peaceful heat that works its way into your bones and makes you melt into the mattress, sleepily playing with his hair. Dew, stretched out on his front, is half on top of you, his head lying on your chest. Purring softly, tail flicking idly behind him. As close to napping as you are. The steady rhythm of your heart like a drum beat leading him down deeper. 

“The things you do with those fingers…” He mumbles, kissing your skin with warm lips and a flick of his tongue. 

You chuckle and comb them through his hair again, like gold spun into silk. “I can’t help myself. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself with you looking like that?”

“Like what?” He turns his head and rests his chin on your sternum. 

“Like the most perfect being to have ever climbed out of the pit.”

Dew grins smugly, lying his head back down for more scritches. “It’s a curse. I know.”

Your fingers brush the base of his horn and his breath hitches. His arms hugging you just a little bit tighter. “But is the curse mine… or yours?”

“Bit of both, I think.” His fingers graze your sides until you squirm. 

It’s no accidental brush the second time. Your fingers tracing the base of his horn where it breaks through the skin. Teasingly soft. He squirms more than you and you can feel his heart starting to race. “I can think of worse curses.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the wicked one.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out breathy, half a moan. 

Tracing the ridges of his horn gets his tail swishing like a whip. Carefully running a fingertip over each peak and valley along the tan curves that keep close to his head. All the way to the broken tip, the sharp edges of the break worn down smooth enough to touch. “Just how sensitive are these, anyway?”

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to find out.” It would be very hard to ignore how much warmer he feels or the growing need pressed up against your leg. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not that it’s insulting or that you’re upset. But knowing there’s been a whole other way to take care of him, that there’s something more you could have been doing, more that he likes… it’s a lot of missed opportunities. And a worry that you should have known. That someone else would have done more or better for him. That another ghoul wouldn’t have to be told. 

“Hey.” Dew looks up at you, catching your wrist to hold you still for a moment. “Stop that.”

“Touching your h-”

“No.” His expression turns serious and stern. “The worrying. I can feel it coming off of you and it’s making me itchy.”

“Sorry, I just-”

“What did I say? Stop it.” He props himself up to look at you properly. “Who’s here in my bed?”

You want to look away or hide. That look he gets is always too much. Like he can see into your soul. Hell, he probably can. But you can’t. Because it’s him. So you stare right back into those eyes of molten gold. “Me.”

“Who asked you to be here?”

“You.”

“Did I ask anyone else?”

“No.”

“And why do you figure that is?” His thumb rubs softly along the inside of your wrist. 

“.... You wanted me here.”

“I want you here. You. Not anyone else. You got me?”

You nod and take a breath. His other hand resting on your chest, just over your heart, warm and steady and strong. Anchoring you in place. Solid and real and safe. Until the worry slips away and all that’s left is him, staring back at you, waiting. 

“I got you.”

Dew nods and kisses your wrist before letting it go. “It’s childish.” He says softly. “I didn’t tell you because it’s childish. You’re supposed to grow out of it. It always feels good but… not leave you begging and whining and embarrassing yourself. The others would never let me live it down and humans don’t ever really understand.”

“... Including me.” It’s not a question. You’re no fool. There are things about him and his life and what he is that you know you’ll never really understand. The same way that there are plenty of things about you he won’t ever really get. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… it’s a weird thing to ask. And awkward. And embarrassing. And if you… if you laughed it would hurt, okay? It would hurt.” He flops back down on top of you, hugging your sides and huffing at himself. 

“Dew?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not laughing.”

He buries his face in your chest and lets his hair hide him almost entirely. “... I know.”

The quiet descends on the room again and, for a minute that feels like an hour, saying anything at all feels wrong. Like breaking the silence will break everything. But then, not saying anything feels wrong too…

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Your fingers comb through his hair again, scratching over his scalp and massaging into his neck. Smiling just a little when you feel him relaxing again. “Promise to tell me the truth?”

Dew snorts and peeks up through his hair. “Depends on the question.”

“......... Anyone ever get you off just with these?” His eyes focus on you sharply when you tease the broken tip of his horn again. 

“Just? No.” You can hear the sly grin in his voice. 

“Mmmm… so… there’s still an opportunity for a first.” 

He bites softly at your skin, just enough of his fangs to remind you they’re there. “You’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“I keep hearing the same thing about you.” 

Whatever he was going to say is lost entirely when you wrap your hands around both of his horns, stroking them from base to tip. Dew’s mouth falls open and his eyes roll back, groaning deeply. It’s been too long since anyone’s even come close to working him like that, longer since he let himself enjoy it. It Takes a moment before he’s ready to try words again. “I mean… if you want to try… I guess that would be okay.”

In all the time you’ve known him, he’s never been one to beg or whine. He’s not someone who falls into submission easily or often. But the few times you’ve seen it, the few times he’s been so lost in his own pleasure to forget his ego, were intoxicating. He is always beautiful. Too beautiful for his own good (or anyone’s good, really). And never more than when there are tears in his eyes and desperation in his voice because he can’t get enough. The prospect of seeing it again is much too tempting. 

“You guess?” You keep a hold of his horns, rubbing your thumb over the broken tip like a worry stone. Firm and steady. Watching his tail whipping back and forth. “And only okay?”

“Baby…” Oh, there it is. The start of a whine just at the edge of his tone. 

“That doesn’t sound like enthusiastic consent.”

His hands grab your sides and you can feel the effort to keep his grip from hurting. Looking up at you, want and defiance at war in his eyes. “Please, baby… make me cum.”

“How could I ever say no to that face?” You pause, looking at him seriously. Waiting until he looks you in the eye to see it’s not part of the game. “You’re safe here, Dew. I’ve got you.”

His cheek rests against your palm and your thumb follows the sharp lines of his face. Your other hand runs over his horn and back down to the base. Rubbing firmly along the ridge of his scalp where it meets the bone. Watching his eyelids flutter closed, the war inside him forgotten for the moment, and his head tipping forward just a little. Seeking more, a better angle, just the right spot. Handing you his trust knowing you won’t break it.

It’s easy to follow his lead, to see what he wants, if you just pay attention. Moving with him, chasing every moan and whimper. Every perfect sound you can drag out of him with your fingers alone. Even if watching his hips rocking, rutting against the bed and against your leg, is torturously tempting. It’s too good hearing him whining shamelessly when you loosen your grip and run your fingers, featherlight, over each ridge. Or the guttural sound he makes when you grip both tightly to force his head back to look him in the eye. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.” And only more beautiful with every bit he falls apart. “Roll over for me.”

A keening whine escapes him when your hands pull away, halfway to grabbing them and pulling them back before he catches himself. “... over?”

You push yourself up higher on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and nod. “On your back. I want to see you.”

His whole body shakes with the effort to reposition himself. Letting you guide him back against your chest. He doesn’t argue either when you take his wrists and set his hands on your thighs. There’s no order, no demand, just the silent gesture. These stay here. 

Then, and only then, do you let yourself gaze on the full vision. Dew, spread out in front of you. Every rise and fall of his chest. Every bead of sweat on his perfect skin. And his cock, achingly hard and dripping pre in heavy drops on his stomach. Begging to be touched or fucked or both. It’s enough to make you question the sanity in not riding him hard until you’re both exhausted and drunk on pleasure. But when your fingers brush against his horn again, his cock jumps and twitches, another thick bead drops into the hair that trails from his navel down to his base, and you decide that maybe sanity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. 

His heels grind into the mattress and his hips thrust up against nothing. Claws pressing against your skin, barely restrained. And the noises he makes. Whining and pleading and begging. For more. For release. For mercy. No creature on Earth or in the Pit has ever looked more beautiful. 

“I can’t… I can’t… please, baby… I can’t do it…” He all but sobs. “Please… let me touch…”

“What colour, Dew?” Your hands slow, waiting for an answer. 

“G-green. Green.” He whimpers, pressing his head back into your grip.

“Then I don’t think touching will be necessary.” You duck your head, softly pressing a kiss between his horns. Speaking softly, just for him. “You can. I know you can. You’re doing so good for me.” Running your tongue from the base to the tip. It’s answered by a sound you would have sworn he couldn’t make and one you’re sure you’ll want to hear again. Dragged out of him for you alone.

Dew’s claws bite into your legs deliciously and his hips jerk hard, so painfully close. “Again!” He snaps, desperation overwhelming every other thought. “Please! Fuck! Do it again!”

He’s had your mouth before. The image of him looking down at you, lips parted, is still fresh in your memory. But nothing about that quite compares to gasp and the shuddering moan, his taught body arching off the bed, when your lips press down around him. Tongue exploring every inch you can reach and teasing the broken edge. He tastes faintly of charcoal and burnt sugar. Like campfire smoke and spent matches. The heat rolling off him in waves until his bed feels like a sauna. 

“Please, baby… please…” Dew’s moans give way to a sob. His legs shaking and his toes curled so hard into the bedding it almost feels cruel not to give him what he wants. To take him in hand just enough to push him over the edge. 

Almost. 

You wind his beautiful hair around your hand, gripping it tightly and pulling his head back enough for him to really feel it. Pulling your mouth away long enough to give him one simple order. “Cum for me.”

He’s barely back in your mouth before he obeys. As your tongue wraps around him again, his hips jerk hard and his breath catches in his throat. Clawing at the bedding while he spills his seed across his stomach and chest. Running onto the bedding but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Finally finding his voice, Dew groans your name obscenely. 

He flops back down on to you, breathing hard and his heart pounding so hard you can feel it through his back. Perfect and beautiful and spent. Muscles twitching from the strain and his cock still dripping with each twitch, looking like the most tempting fresh glazed donut. Whimpering when your fingers ghost over his horns again, trailing down his neck and chest to lazily circle his nipple. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” Dew chuckles breathlessly. 

“And miss out on doing that again?” You grin wickedly. 

“At least let me catch my breath.”

You lean down close to kiss his shoulder, nuzzling your nose into his jaw. “Next time I want to ride you while I do that.”“Fuck…” He grins hungrily. “You are trying to kill me.”

[minotaurfemme]

Touch

Fucking Trans Women - Mira Bellwether

(transcription under read more)

Touch

Let me tell you about my 'no-zones' - I don't have any. I am the inverse of stone.

I love being touched and groped everywhere on my body without exception. Human touch makes me feel good, and I crave it the way I crave sunlight or air or water. Touch makes me feel good about myself. It makes me feel present in my own body, which is how I prefer to feel.

So it makes me sad that since transitioning people touch me less frequently, lovers and friends included. I'm talking about everything from holding hands to friendly touches on the shoulder to vigorous rubbing of the upper thighs.

"No, I wasn't actually on edge, it's only that you're the first person to touch me today!" It sounds worse than it is. I am not a pathetic loner who no one touches, but I do wonder where all the touch went and why it went away.

I think what's going on most of the time is that people - my friends included - are afraid that they're going to touch me in the wrong place or that it will seem disrespectful or something. Basically I think its an attempt to be polite. Lovers do this too, more generally at first. I appreciate the sentiment, I guess? But it's misdirected, and if that politeness makes it all the way to sexy times it becomes a real problem.

~Please stop being polite.~

What feels friendly and polite to me is touching me. My body might feel different than what you're used to in subtle ways but really it's just my body, they're all slightly different from each other. Trans is not catching, and I don't usually smell.

I want you to touch me.

That's a hard thing to tell anyone and there is no convenient way to introduce the topic that I've found. But really, please stop being polite and start touching me more often, whether you're my friend or my lover. If you're my friend, I'm not telling you to go out of your way, although if you did I wouldn't complain.

Touch makes us feel human, it is what makes us feel welcome, and loved, and alive, and beautiful, and and utterly wanted by the people who love us.

(It's not like I don't notice when you shy away from me even when you pretend not to. I can tell the difference. anyone can.)

(I notice when my touch or my compliments give you that deer-in-the-headlights look, or you don't know how to respond. I notice when it takes you longer to hug me. I feel it when we share a bed as friends but your body is rigid. I don't say anything but I notice. These things make me feel very sad.)

But if we're fucking then I really need you to touch me more. Touch me all the time. Do go out of your way, because most lovers I've had for the past three years who weren't other trans women have erred on the side of caution and left me feeling untouched, and untouchable. "Untouchable" is a rotten way to feel, especially when you're trying to fuck. Not to dwell on the negative but when someone doesn't touch me it also suggests pretty strongly that they don't find my body sexy. I know that's not the case if we're fucking, so what's up?! Put your hands on my body! Find the parts you like to touch, then touch the shit out of them. What feels sexy to me is being touch a lot, all over. The more hands on my my thighs, arms, chest, belly, legs, hands, shoulders, and back, the better.

PLEASE stop BEING POLITE, and if you are NOT being polite, then STOP THAT TOO please. I want you to touch me, and really, I am very touchable.

Because you are my lover, because you are my date, because we are fucking,

I want you to touch my tits, even though they are small. I want you to kiss my lips even though they are thin, I want you to hold my hand when we walk down the street. I want you to suck on my body, my nipples, my fingertips, I want to feel your tongue on the inside of my thighs and in between my ass cheeks. You are beautiful, and there is no place I don't want to touch you because you are beautiful. Every part of you is gorgeous and sexy and right.

I want to feel the same way. I want to drop into your arms and be held as tight as you can hold me because I am beautiful and special. I don't want to wonder whether you're scared to touch me, I want to know that you aren't.

It can be hard to be touched sometimes, when I'm so used to no one touching me, but I want you to touch me. Even those rare times when I can't be touched, of course I wish that you could touch me and comfort me. And please know that if I'm not touching you, it doesn't mean that I don't want to. You are so very touchable, I want to touch you all the time.

(It gets to me sometimes, I admit. I start to wonder "am I touchable? Does anyone really want me?" And of course you do and I know that, but I want you to show me anyway.)

This is what I know:

I KNOW that my lovers want to touch me, I know that they see me as I am and think "that is the sexiest girl in the room, and she is my girl," and because I know that I am asking you to touch me.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie idea: don’t know if you do mpreg or not but I had this idea of Jamie starting to feel weird, get sick in the mornings a crave the strangest food. Roy gets worried sick and finally takes Jamie to the doctor for some tests. The results are on and Roy thinks Jamie’s dying, asks the doctor how long Jaime has. He’s devastated when the doc says maybe 8 months give or take. Roy rushes to Jaime who’s glowing and assures him they will make the best of the time they have left. Jamie’s like honey I’m not dyin’ I’m havin yet babey! Roy passes out but I’d super thrilled when he regains consciousness

I’ve read and written worse things to afraid of a little requested mpreg.

So yeah I’ll write it! But also know I’m drunk tonight so yeah!

Content warning- mpreg. And don’t be a bitch in the comments there’s a clear warning. In my mpreg universe they can have kids only by c-section.

Jamie had actually been throwing up for about two weeks before Roy realized. Once he found out and then found out how long it had been happening he flipped.

It doesn’t help that Jamie just tried to play it off as food poisoning from the weird stuff he’s been eating recently. If fact Roy probably reacted worse once Jamie started naming the things he’s been eating.

It’s the first month of the off season he’s allowed to get a bit loose with his meals

Jamie gets it. He does. He probably would’ve reacted the same way.

Thus comes the logical conclusion of Jamie sitting in the doctor’s office with Roy in the waiting room.

He’s been swinging his legs for the past few minutes waiting for the doctor to come back. He’s texting with Keeley about getting brunch as soon as he doesn’t feel like throwing up everything.

His doctor comes in with a smile, Jamie loves her. She always listens when he says something is wrong and gets that he has weird injuries with football.

She sits on the stool and rolls closer to him, “okay Jamie you ready?” Jamie takes a breath he nods.

“Short version is you’re totally fine. But you are pregnant.”

Jamie blinks. He can’t have heard her right. “Sorry come again?”

She smiles, “pregnant Jamie, about a month and a half along. We always knew you had the gene, always knew it was a possibility. Now there’s choices you can make if this isn’t what you want.”

Jamie shakes his head. “No I’m glad that people have choices but I want this. Never let myself think about it but now I want it.” She smiles at him again. “Fabulous okay do you want to call the father? I’m going out on a limb here and guessing it’s Roy.”

Jamie laughs. He burns a bit pink, “yeah it’s Roy, guess we weren’t always safe.” She laughs, “it’s okay you don’t have to explain you just have to be happy.”

“Can you get him for me? Just tell him he needs to be here.” “Want to freak him out?” Jamie laughs again, “Marie you know me so well.”

-

When Roy comes in the room the first think he does is catches Jamie’s hand. “You okay? Know why you’re throwing up?”

Jamie sighs. He knows it’s mean but he can’t help it. “Yeah it’ll all be over in about eight months.”

Roy inhales. “Oh god Jamie I’m so sorry. It’s okay we can do this. It will be fine. We’ll take off from football. Fuck football. We’ll travel. You know I’ll never leave you.”

Marie is refusing to look at Jamie. She knows she should stop this but he’s having a good time.

Jamie breaks. He lets out a laugh. He grins at Roy. “You better not leave you helped make this problem.” Roy tilts his head. He looks at the doctor then back to Jamie. “I’m pregnant Roy.”

-

When Roy comes back to himself it’s to Jamie holding him in his lap with Marie gently chastising Jamie. “You should’ve told him to sit at least you evil boy.”

Roy tilts his head back to look at Jamie. “You’re pregnant??” Jamie nods. “I’ll leave you two alone for a little bit.”

Marie leaves. Roy sits up he turns to look at Jamie. “Pregnant?” “Yeah. We really haven’t been careful.”

Roy feels some tears start. Jamie inhales, he wipes away the tears that fall. “Are you okay with this?”

Roy laughs. “God of course I am. This is a dream baby. Oh fuck a baby. Goddamn it Jamie you’re brilliant.”

Jamie let’s out a wet laugh. “Not angry? Happy? You’re gonna be a dad.”

Roy let’s the tears come down his face for real now. He kisses Jamie. He’s never not going to kiss Jamie. “You know this is going to take you off the field for the whole next season?” Jamie takes Roy’s hand. He puts it on his stomach, “it’ll be worth it. I’m not going anywhere on the team, just taking a break.”

“The guys are going to lose their minds.”

Jamie kisses Roy again, “mum is going to lose it are you kidding me?”

“Oh fuck we have to tell your mom we fucked.”

Jamie let’s out a big laugh. “Hon she knows she’s seen the hickeys.”

Roy goes bright red. “Jesus.”

“Phoebe and your sister are doing to lose their minds.”

Roy pulls Jamie into his lap. “We’re going to get so much baby clothing.” Jamie can’t stop smiling he’s so excited. “Come on let’s go check out. I want to take you home.”

When they get back into the car Jamie let’s out the cheer he’s been holding in. “Oh my god Roy I’m so excited to have a kid with you.”

Roy kisses him again. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my kid. Kids? Kid.”

Jamie laughs “god knows you’d be able to knock me up with twins.”

“Don’t you dare say that, we can’t handle two kids.”

-

8 months later they have a little girl. She’s got curly black hair and bright blue eyes. It’s the happiest they’ve ever been. They know it won’t be easy but what in their lives has been. It will be easier then most things because of how much they love each other.

[mybelovedwoo]

Long Journey - Chapter 5: Unveiled Truth

Life hurts a lot, that's just how it is. At least that is what Destiny thought, living a life where living hurts more than dying. But one day everything changes when an unexpected guest appears. What does this long journey hide behind? Will it be worth it to be alive again?

"Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends!"

ateez pirate au, fluff, angst, smut

??? x named fem reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood injuries, trauma, smut, as, pa, abuse specific for this chapter: grief, mention of death

← previous | next → | masterlist

Fear. Shock. Sorrow.

The combination of all these emotions rushed over me at these moments. The feeling of having your heart ripped out, is how I would describe it. It just hurts so bad. My mind is so hazy, this is all my fault, it shouldn't have happened this way. I look down at my hands, the shakes won't stop. The ground below me is full of dirt, but I can't stand on my feet, my legs gave up and my lungs are already hurting from the crying. 

People pass me by, but nobody cares. Why would they? They're only here for the show, they don't even know who the person hanging there is, or what her sin is, they're just quenching their thirst for blood. They don't know that person is innocent or that she sacrificed herself because of me.

What is the meaning of my life now? Who am I living for? I have no one left. I have nothing left. This is my miserable life, it can't get any worse than this, since I've lost everything that was once important to me. I'm on my own. All alone. 

Numb. Emptiness. Gloom.

The noises around me fade away as if something is blocking my hearing. My mind seems to have gone blank and my tears stopped falling, there's just no more tears left. So this is how it feels not to feel anymore. Is it better than having a heart that can break at any time, caring for someone, and having a purpose to live, someone to live for?

I feel a hand on my left shoulder, and when I look up, there's San squatting next to me. I see his mouth moving, he's speaking to me but I can't hear a single word he's saying. I'm trying to focus and catch what he's saying, but I realize there's no purpose, I shouldn't care, not anymore. I want to be left alone, here, with all my pain, I don't even care if I have to die right here at this point.

"Destiny, get up! We have to get back to the ship right now, we don't have time for this. Please, I'm not going to leave you here, so you either get up and come back with me or I will bring you there myself." San knew what he was doing was against the order that Seonghwa gave him, but how could he leave you behind in a state like this? This girl saw the last person in her life die in front of her eyes, she's grieving, she's vulnerable. He should follow orders, but he's a human after all, isn't he? Also, he feels like he owes her, for saving his mate's life. 

You can feel a raindrop hitting your face, washing away the traces of your tears. In the twinkling of an eye, the rain starts to pour, and the cold water suddenly wakes me from my trance. I made a promise, I have to go back to the ship with San, no one can see me, that was my promise to the Captain. And I have no intention of breaking this promise.

San had no time to waste anymore, he grabbed my arms and quite literally lifted me up to stand. At this point, both of us were wet from head to toe from the heavy rain. He pulled me with him, he didn't let go of my arm, he had a mission to get back to the ship immediately and he couldn't lose me again in the crowd. 

We were walking very fast, it was almost a run. I didn't understand what was this big hurry about. If it was about the rain, it doesn't matter at this point, since we were already soaked. When I almost fell for the third time in a row, I had to ask him. "Why are we in such a hurry? It's like we're running away from someone." I didn't get an answer to my question, but he pulled me into a narrow alley, away from all the eyes and ears. He pushed me against the wall and caged me with both of his arms.

I was so surprised by the sudden action, I didn't know what was happening. "What-" He covered my mouth with his palm so I couldn't finish my sentence. My eyes widened. "Shhh. Just look at me and act like we are madly in love until the King's guards pass by." He frowned and looked behind himself, he looked very concerned. And I just stood there clueless, but still, I felt I had to do what he just said.

Why was he acting like this? They should not know who we were. We just have to act normal and everything should be fine, right? But who am I to deny the order, I promised to obey and that's what I'm gonna do. When the guards get to the entrance of the alley we are in, San leans so close to me, that I can feel his breath on my skin, it's warm and tickles a little. He pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I hadn't even noticed it was in my face until now. I get a bit nervous about the proximity, I've never been this close to a boy before. 

"Hey, you two there!" One of them shouts loudly, I even tremble a little because I got scared of the sudden noise. "Yes Sir?" San pulls me even closer to him, he rests my head on his shoulder, so the guards can't see my face. He looks at them with a cocky grin. Who wouldn't believe this man is in love, even I do for a moment.

"Sorry for the bother Sir. We're looking for two criminals who broke into the Royal prison this morning. Specifically, we're looking for a pirate and his mate." What?? Pirates? Why would they think we're pirates? We can get hanged for this, it's one of the worst crimes under the authority of the King. This is not good.

"Do we look like people who know pirates?" He asks back, pretending to be insulted. He even gasped as if he was surprised by the allegations, but he was not. Why wasn't he?

"No Sir, not at all." The guard tries to correct himself, with no success.

"Such a vile slander from the King's guards. I'd rather take my fiance home if such dangers lurk on the streets. If you would excuse us, gentlemen." Even when he walks past the guards, he still keeps me close to him. But they don't know we have no intention of going anywhere but the harbor, and out of this place as soon as possible.

When we are finally out of their sight, now we really start sprinting. "San." Nothing. He doesn't stop. He just runs, he doesn't slow down even when we get to the harbor. "San! What were they talking about?" Still nothing. When we got back to the ship the others were rushing all around the deck, they were rushing. They hurried to set sail as if they already knew what was happening. 

"SAN! Would you finally answer me? What the hell is happening right now? Why do they think you are pirates? And that I'm helping pirates? What's going on? Just answer me already!" I couldn't take it anymore, it drove me crazy not knowing anything. And he still won't even look at me. "Are you pirates?" There's the question I feared to say out loud. But when he turned around slowly and finally looked me in the eyes, his soft eyes weren't the same as before, they hardened, it looked terrifying.

"We are."

© belongs to mybelovedwoo

note: Another update in such a long time, i know I disappeared but my life got really busy the last couple of months. But hopefully, with summer being here, I'll have more time to write.

Honestly this is my favorite chapter yet. Please tell me all your thoughts about it!!

taglist: @dinossaurz

[baratrongirl]

I have been dealing with non-stop health problems since 22nd June or thereabouts and I just want it all to stop.

On 21st June, which was my birthday, I went to an Elder Scrolls Online 10th Anniversary party at the offices of Bethesda/Zenimax in London. I proceeded to catch COVID from being out in public, and spent a week in bed.

On 29th June I was sitting at my computer, still with a high fever, stood up to go to the loo, and something in my right leg tore and I fell over. Couldn't walk at all for several days. Finally got free of COVID, went to the hospital, and they thought from an ultrasound that I'd torn my Achilles tendon. So I got put in a horrible cast and was not allowed to put any weight on the leg at all.

Went to Germany for the ESO Tavern anyway because I figured that accessible hotel rooms would be less stress than my house, which is only accessible for my normal disability and not for "you can't put any weight on your foot at all". Had to inject myself with an anticoagulant called Fragmin because of being immobile, which is super great if you're needle phobic.

Once I got home and saw the specialist, she thought it probably wasn't a tear and ordered an MRI. This showed that actually, I "only" had "thickening and inflammation" of the tendon. So it looks like I "only" tore my calf muscle which is a much less serious injury to heal. (I could dig out the hospital letter with the actual names of the muscles but I frankly don't care enough.)

However, my right leg was STILL rock solid with oedema. (Medical for "swelling"). The calf felt hard to the touch instead of squishy like my left leg. The young doctor that I saw the second time was only bothered about the tendonitis and severe inflexibility of my foot, not the fact that my leg was swollen. And I continued to have pain spikes so bad that my temperature hit 38.0 C and I started puking for probably six weeks after the initial injury.

TL;DR my leg started to get better and then it got worse again. About two weeks ago I noticed the leg was more swollen than ever, and the skin was bright red and very itchy. Took myself up to the hospital again, had a blood test, sat and waited for the results.

My foot turned LITERALLY purple and by the time I got to see the A&E doctor, she just looked at my foot in combination with the blood test results and declared that I had a clot. (Though she was very thorough, carefully checking the entire length of my bad leg against the good one.) They gave me a massive dose of anticoagulants and sent me home to sleep in my own bed for a bit, then I went back the next day and had another ultrasound at a different frequency from the first. (Different frequencies of sound penetrate different levels of tissue). And promptly got diagnosed with Deep Vein Thrombosis.

Blood clots are kinda gross (don't worry, there are no pictures):

Apparently the blood clot is from behind my knee all the way up to mid-thigh. I thought a blood clot was an amorphous, approximate spheroid blocking the vein at a particular place, but it actually fills the entire vein! (Gross!)

Also the main concern with Deep Vein Thrombosis is that bits might break off from the main clot and travel through the bloodstream to cause a Pulmonary Embolism. So the high dose of anticoagulants is actually to deal with bits breaking off from the clot rather than to break down the clot itself! That's why the treatment is 3-6 months on a high dose of anticoagulants.

I was worried about the risk of stroke but that's from blood clots in arteries, not veins.

I'm still annoyed with the doctor in the Fracture Clinic who basically looked at me and saw a fat person, rather than checking that my uninjured fat left leg and injured fat right leg felt the same. Because I had the oedema then. I had a soft, squishy fat left leg and a hard, unsquishable fat right leg.

If I'd actually followed his advice I might have accidentally killed myself. Fortunately I know the medical word "oedema" and knew not to use the special socks which said "do not use if you have oedema".

I am so fucking frustrated. So stupidly tired. I can't work out whether I'm depressed because I'm exhausted or exhausted because I'm depressed. Or whether the two states are orthogonal and caused by something else.

I feel like I've basically missed the entire summer to being sick and mostly unable to move very far from my bed, and the only joy I have is that I live in the UK and have paid nothing for any of this healthcare because it's all funded from our taxes.

[omniblades-and-stars]

following the current, circling the drain

read on a03 | spotify playlist for good vibes

Well, shit, this certainly complicates things. Found myself in a bit of a conundrum now, haven't I? You probably have too, since you're also sitting in this shitty little cracker box of a "prison cell" in the basement of self-proclaimed warlord and arms dealer Sitis Epirian's sort-of-mansion. Or what counts as a mansion on this blessed rock called Omega. It’s more like a mercenary compound with fancy art tacked up on the walls than an actual mansion. Big and fortified, just like any hobbyist warlord should have.

Name's Inonsi, I'd say it's good to meet you, but the circumstances being what they are ...

Shit, will you calm down? Stop freaking out, it's not so bad here. They even put a bucket in here so you can piss somewhere other than your pants or the floor. I've been stuck in worse, comes with the territory. If you wait patiently, everything will work out, you can trust me on that. I've never let something like six-inch bulletproof glass with kinetic impact barriers, high tech security systems, locks, and a literal mercenary army stop me before. And if you so happen to slip out when I'm done ... well, that's none of my business, now is it?

I know what you're thinking, how did the drell with beautiful shining scales and eyes like endless obsidian pools end up getting manhandled and tossed into a man like Epirian's torture dungeon? Well, I could tell you the entire story from start to finish in exacting and exhaustive detail, right down to the number of buttons on my father's dinner jacket that he wore one time when I was five years old (seven brass buttons that caught the light and shimmered like small stars, by the way), but I won't do that. You humans don't have the attention span for that kind of biography.

But we've got some time to kill, I love talking about myself, and you seem like you're on the verge of a stroke. You need a distraction. Put your feet up friend, relax and let the tide flow out to the sea.

 

Disappearing Apprentice

I was a special child, training under a specialist known far and wide for her skills in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat. Why was a child training under someone like that? Easy enough answer, the Compact. The hanar saved my people two centuries ago and now there's some long-held belief that all drell owe a debt to the hanar for it. And so sometimes, promising young upstarts with apparent skill in sneaking around and good balance get plucked from their parents to be trained as assassins, soldiers and mercenaries, and they're supposed to be thankful for it.

Etensan Laon was a difficult mistress, impossible to please.

"Again!" She shouts. A crimson scaled hand flies out and wraps tight around my ankle. One short tug topples me from my perch on the worn balance beam, the fading vinyl covering over the center evidences the apprentices of times past. I land hard on my back, my breath comes in short, painful gasps, her fingers are still digging around my ankle. She sneers down at me, lips turned up in the left corner with disdain. There are white stripes running from the crown of her head to her neck. "Balance and attention, Inonsi! Simply remaining upright when you land your jump is not sufficient. You will fall to your death if a strong breeze catches you unaware, as I have just done."

I am only seven years old, but she will not let go of my ankle. I know I must free myself from her grasp. One cannot depend on never being caught. Her talons scrape against my scales, still sore from the last two days we have been doing this exercise, repeating this exact scenario. "Yes, Sera Laon," I say before I swing my other leg beneath hers and attempt to pull her down. She does not fall to the ground, her knee only buckles, but her grip around my ankle weakens and I roll back, pulling myself free.

It is sloppy, unskilled, but it works. I leap back onto the balance beam to start again. I must be perfect. Etensan Laon does not tolerate imperfection.

Oh, sorry about that. Happens sometimes. You get used to it.

Well, I trained with Laon until I was ten years old. I was great. At ten years old, if something had a neck, I could theoretically snap it. If there was something to climb, leap from, hide behind, or twist myself into, I could do it. You know that thing in all the spy movie vids where the spy disappears into a crowd or into a passing shadow? Well, I could do that too. But I wasn't perfect, and I hated that as much as Laon seemed to hate me. It worked out in the end though.

Because I got to leave.

I was allowed to visit with my parents sometimes, and one of those times, my world went upside down. You see dear old dad got involved in some political scandal, the nature of which is quite embarrassing if you know anything about hanar-drell politics, which you don't, so don't worry your head about it. Suffice to say, he and mom elected to leave Kahje and well, they weren't going to leave precious little Inonsi behind. I waved goodbye to Kahje from the private passenger cabin of a very pricey transport shuttle. I was ten and to my mind it was an exciting adventure. Besides, I'd gotten in trouble with Laon because I had been caught stealing yetae blossoms from the tree in the meditation garden, and my parents were in such a rush to get off world that she never had the opportunity to tattle on me.

How was I supposed to know you weren't allowed to pluck them straight from the tree? It's not like there were signs posted around the ancient tree that I willfully ignored from the moment I arrived at the training center to the moment I left it. The blossoms smelled so sweet. If they didn't want me taking them, maybe they shouldn't have smelled so good. Following the rules has never been my strong suit.

If my parents had known then exactly how often I was stealing they might have kept a better eye on me once we landed at our destination, because flowers from a tree didn't even really count as stealing, there were other things. Mostly Laon's things. I didn't even keep them, I would just sneak into her quarters or pick her pockets and take things. Datapads, credit chits, clothing, incense burners ... whatever I could get my little hands on. I threw almost all of it into the ocean. She never caught me stealing anything that mattered. Just those fucking flowers that she treated like holy relics.

Urchin? Sort of.

And then, middle, middle, middle. You don't want to hear about the quiet years on Teyolia, where father dearest conducted secretive business, and I definitely did not make a habit of listening in on his conversations or hacking his computer terminal and reading his encrypted emails. I most certainly didn't bug his office. Nope. Not Inonsi, she never ever would have done that.

Just kidding. Let's just say that perhaps nature versus nurture might lean more toward nature in my case. My poor, long-suffering mother.

I kept to myself at school mostly, I stuck out like ... well a bright orange and purple thumb in a sea of tall, blue and beautiful girls. I was easy to mock, short by asari standards (and also drell standards, but that's neither here nor there), and very, very different. It's okay though, the meanest of the girls, Paresya, found a lot of her school supplies missing. A lot of her girlfriends too, as we got older. What can I say? I have a certain mystique about me, it would be a shame not to leverage that to my advantage.

Oh please, don't give me that look. You're in this cell too. Don't tell me you've never done something juvenile and vindictive like stealing someone's girlfriend or boyfriend out of spite. I don't believe it.

When I was sixteen I grew dreadfully bored of school and of teenage asari superiority, so I started skipping classes frequently. It's incredible how long you can get away with that if you know how to hack into the school's attendance system and reprogram the VI that calls the parents when you're absent. All those phone calls went to some takeout joint in the next city over. By the time my parents were contacted by a real person, I'd missed approximately a quarter of that year's lessons.

You know, those asari do a very good job of making their colonies and cities look like marvelous, utopic jewels. If you stay on all the main thoroughfares, in all of the tourist centers, you might even find yourself believing it. But at sixteen, I found my way to the seedy underbelly of Iare, a moderately large city in the main colony of Teyolia. I found a group of kids, far more diverse than I'd ever been exposed to before. I was used to living first around drell and hanar exclusively, and then mostly asari. They were poor kids, a pair of turian siblings whose parents were day laborers, a salarian whose dad was sort of like mine, but unlike mine had recently had the rug pulled out from under him, and an asari who didn't talk about her family at all.

I pulled the same trick. They were fun kids, and I didn't want them to know that I got to go home at night to a nice apartment with flawed, but loving parents. Zelthatea, Zel to anyone who didn’t want to get socked in the face, didn’t talk about her family for much darker reasons, but I was sixteen, and using her method seemed like the best way to fit in.

We were tight, those kinds of bonds formed by committing small acts of theft and property damage together. The kinds formed through spending whole days together rough housing and running away from cops, shrieking with relieved laughter as we narrowly escaped capture. And then they found out I could do tricks. I could scale a building, leap from rooftop to rooftop, and I started teaching them how to do some of it. Soon enough, we had ourselves a little gang of roof running hooligans, we would do beer runs on convenience stores, and escape into alleys and up and away from prying eyes, that sort of thing.

We got too big for our ill-fitting pants, though. I wish I could tell you that I don’t remember whose idea it was to break into a corporate office and try to make off with company secrets, but if a drell ever tell you that, you know they’re lying. Only one of us had a dad who was in the corporate espionage business, so you do the math. There I was, in the CEO’s office with Zel, Apus and Catiae were our lookouts and were pretending to be janitors. Dex (the salarian, he didn’t like us using his real name) was our man on the outside, he was supposed to keep an eye out for security and police activity. He lost his nerve the first time he saw someone who looked like she might have been security and darted off without telling us!

“Shit, something’s up, get out of there!” Apus calls into the room right before tossing the trash cart over on its side and dashing down the hall towards the fire stairs. Catiae is hot on his heels. Her secondhand boots crash against the tile floor noisily as her footsteps pound heavy, sounding her escape. They don’t quite fit her yet. They were her mothers, one of the buckles hangs loose, it clinks mockingly as she ducks through the door.

Zel looks at me, panic in wide, ocean blue eyes. She is already crying, but she doesn’t want to leave me behind. She is always so sweet, usually quiet. Three emerald lines draw down over her pointed chin, the only facial markings she has. “Zel, hide! I’ll run a distraction. Don’t leave until it’s safe,” I say. Out of all of us, she doesn’t deserve to get caught committing a real crime.

I snatch the OSD I was using to transfer a clone of the CEO’s terminal on and beat feet out of the door. Four guards turn the corner, they wear heavy armor, deep blue, accented with gold. I wave my hand at them, making sure they see the OSD held in my fingers. “Genteux gives his regards!” I shout. Genteux doesn’t exist, or at least, I do not believe he does, I’ve never heard of anyone named Genteux. I run for the elevator and dart inside. I send it down to the first floor, climb out of the maintenance hatch and pry open the doors on the second. One, two, three, four running steps to the window. It is not the kind that opens. Shit, I panic. I pick up a chair and send it hurling through with a neon biotic burst.

No hesitation, I leap through, tuck and roll to the ground. It hurts, but I haven’t broken anything. I land right in the center of a congregation of Iare’s finest, guns raised and trained on me.

Everyone but Dex got caught. I did my best to take the fall for it. It was my big-brained idea after all. But well, my dad wasn’t exactly a paragon of upstanding citizenry, as I have alluded to already. Money floated into someone’s grasping hands, and I was let off with a slap on the wrist. Despite my desperate pleading, daddy dearest did not extend his kindness to the poor kids who got wrapped up in my ego.

Well, my days as an up-and-coming criminal mastermind were cut quite short at that point. Mom was furious, dad was embarrassed, and apparently lost a lot of business (judging by the angry phone calls I was still horning my way into) because I allegedly chose my target based on some conversations that were very private. Allegedly.

We picked up and moved again. I won’t tell you where to, dad still lives there, conducting his business.

They say there’s no honor among thieves, but I am daddy’s little girl. I never put his lifestyle in jeopardy again, and I will not do so now.

Mom eventually wised up to his shenanigans, by the way, and is living the high life in the tropics. Last I heard, she’s started seeing a nice young drell. Good for her. I believe you humans would call her a cougar. She seems happy, and that’s what matters.

Hey, settle! The guard’s just cranky because of the little surprise I left in one of the bathrooms. I mean, maybe some people think a flashbang rigged up so that the pin gets pulled when the door opens isn’t a good prank, but those people aren’t tormenting assholes like these guys. This guard’s a pussy, he’s just trying to rattle our cage a bit. Keep it together, will you? Losing your cool because the guy is threatening to pull our fingernails out one by one because he has a migraine and moderate to severe hearing loss now is a surefire way to miss our chance.

Now, where was I? Oh, don’t answer that, it’s hypothetical. I know exactly where I was.

Actually an Acrobat

I was kept under lock and key right up until my parents could no longer do so without it being considered false imprisonment or kidnapping. I mean, I still got out. Often. Civilian security is child’s play, and it’s frankly embarrassing that more people don’t know how to hack open a regular old apartment door and slip out into the night.

This story has to, of course, touch on tragic young love. All the great stories do. And mine is pretty good, if I do say so myself. And I do.

Upon gaining the freedom afforded by adulthood, I immediately tried my hand at the nightclub scene. I learned two things right away, club goers are easy pick-pocketing targets, and that the cocktail called the “Rough Tide” is the best alcoholic beverage to be crafted by clever asari mixologists. Its main components are lunassa, a very strong asari liquor, and juice from the olan fruit native to Kahje. There are other things mixed in it, but I’ve never bothered with the finer points of cocktail mixing. The sweetness of the fruit masks the surprising strength of the liquor, and when you stand up the tide sweeps you off your feet.

I’ve made some of my best bad decisions under the influence of a Rough Tide … or three … or four. My favorite best bad decision was Tertus Achaso, even when you account for the aforementioned tragedy. I was sitting at the bar, pleasantly drunk but not out of my mind on it, when a barefaced turian with a charming smile, chipped third tooth, and sharp, honey eyes slid onto the seat next to me. His first words to me were, “So do the colors go all the way down?” Very charming. Very smooth. It should have been very off-putting. But what can I say? I’m a sucker for a good smile.

“Buy me another drink, and maybe you’ll find out,” I answered. I was looking for a good time, and it seemed I had found it.  What? Oh, the answer? I am all the colors of a desert sunset from my head to my toes. You should be so lucky to see me in my full glory.

Stop distracting me.

We talked for a while, and he did buy me a drink, another Rough Tide. He laughed when I told him that I couldn’t stand the taste of hard liquor. He laughed even harder when I admitted that I had (still have, thank you) a terrible sweet tooth. One thing led to the only place this was ever going – a cheap hotel room.

He smells of fresh cut lumber and canvas. There is a scar cut deep into the keel of his chest, long healed. Dark brown hide, patterned with sandy, rough plates.  He’s surprisingly gentle for someone so large. Fingers tenderly trace down-

Ahem, sorry. That’s not the kind of memory that one should share, especially with a stranger. We’ll just gloss over that by me telling that he worked for a traveling circus, and I happen to be very flexible. I made an impression on him, and he made an impression on me.

So Inonsi runs off with the no-so-smooth talking turian to join the circus, right? I had stars in my eyes, like all young women do. Tertus could do no wrong, and I became enamored with both him and the idea that I could make a living of being an entertainer. I wowed audiences with suicidal feats of acrobatic grace, tight ropes, swinging on long swathes of cloth, leaping from heights that made most people sick. Finally, I was putting my training to use. No more petty thievery for me, and breaking and entering because I was bored, I was going straight.

Ha!

See the thing was that those kinds of circuses, the ones that are not owned by multibillion credit entertainment conglomerates, are filled to the brim with criminals and rejects of every stripe. Beautiful, gentle, and sweet Tertus was one of them. A criminal, I mean. He was probably a reject too, but he was my, admittedly very small, world so I didn’t see him that way. Some nights, he would step away from the other stagehands to go make phone calls. I’ve always been too curious for my own good. I listened in on those too, I am ashamed to say. I am capable of some shame, not much, but some.

Look, I didn't listen because I didn't trust him. I just like to know things. People are always having such interesting conversations, don't you think?

If only listening in on his conversations drove me to some sort of action. But it didn't. He had the kind of debts a lowlife criminal with a former drug addiction came upon. Tertus did more crimes to make creds so he could pay those debts, circus work does not pay well, and in the process, he pissed some very bad people off. This place wasn't like Omega, where you can't throw a rock without hitting some wannabe mob boss, so he thought he would be safe traveling with a planet-side circus.

It was the morning before our first show in a new city, I'd been with the circus and Tertus for several months at that point (eight months and four days according to the local calendar, to be exact). We actually had an auditorium to perform in that time, and I was excited do all of my tricks. There were poles to climb, flowing fabrics to spin around in, things to dive off of. It was going to be magnificent, and people were going to learn my name. And Tertus and I were going to live happily forever. And he was late to meet me at a diner for breakfast. That wasn't very unusual, circus folk run on a different sort of clock - the kind that's always late.

But after an hour of waiting, I decided to go looking for him. As I was crossing over a foot bridge heading back towards the hotel most of us were staying at, I heard boots slamming on concrete. Have you ever heard a sound that's innocuous, an everyday sound, but it's so wrong it sets your teeth on edge?

Sun is warm on my back. One, two, three, four rushing steps, panicked breathing. I look up and see Tertus running full speed toward me. He doesn't see me at first, too focused on watching his feet to make sure he doesn't trip. His eyes meet mine, halfway across the bridge, eyes wide with fear. "Go! Run!" he shouts as he grows nearer to me. But I can see what he cannot.

Three men carrying assault rifles are gaining on him. Two turians, one krogan.

I know something that Tertus doesn't. You can't outrun a bullet. The world slows to a crawl. Fear roots me to my spot until it is too late to do anything to save him. I have never heard a gun fired outside of a range or without protection for my ears before. Three, four, five muzzle flashes. Cobalt blood like rain splatters across the ground, Tertus falls forward as though he has been pushed.

My training spurs me to action. I’ve never actually taken a life before, but these men hurt my Tertus. I run towards them, using my very unimpressive biotic talent to generate a barrier. Dodge to the right, jump onto the railing of the bridge, leap from the rail, use the momentum to snap the neck of the turian closest to me. Maintain my momentum, stay in fluid motion. There's a gun in my hand and the second turian falls with the sound of automatic gunfire filling my ears. It's too fucking loud.

Something burns in my leg and my stomach, but I can’t stop moving. If the krogan gets his hands on me, I'll die. I leap onto his back, I nearly drop the assault rifle, it’s too big for me. I launch myself from his crest plate and fire down into his neck while I’m still in the air. It's sloppy, it's messy, it's too fucking loud. He’s still coming, and I just keep firing. It's over. I'm covered in blood, indigo, cadmium orange, and my own emerald. A cruel painting in brilliant organic color. I run to Tertus.

He's already dead. Honey eyes glassy. Jaw lax, mandibles hang limp next to his dear, sweet face. I scream, everything hits me all at once. The fear, the anger, the heartbreak. But I have no time, I hear more boots on the ground, and I am surrounded by bodies and covered in blood.

I don't hesitate. I leap into the river and follow the current to somewhere new.

Please, don't apologize. Everyone on this station has a tragic backstory. I bet you have one that's a real doozy. The river flows out to the sea, and so too I've learned that you have to keep living. You humans have a saying, "Go with the flow." It fits very nicely with my personal philosophy. Which is why I have to insist that you keep your pants on and stay calm, our time will come. If you try to take your chance too soon, it fucks things up. Swim with the current, not against it, friend. You'll just make yourself tired fighting the undertow, and then you'll sink to the bottom.

We wouldn't want that, now would we?

Star System Hopping Woman of Mystery Thief

If you have to ask how or why I ended up on Omega, I'd have to ask you if you've been listening at all. True, I don't live here full time. I'm sort of a star system hopping woman of mystery. But I do end up on Omega very often. You'd be surprised how many art sellers and antique collectors are just straight up criminals. Or maybe you wouldn't be. You are in the same basement holding cell as I am, after all. Or did you come here for something other than stealing priceless relics from a murderer?

Please don't tell me you came here to steal his weapons! How uninspired.

Anyways, of course I mourned Tertus. But I was scared, possibly wanted for the murder of three people, maybe four if you account for the possibility that it would have been very easy for the local police force to pin the whole disaster on me. I was naïve, but I wasn’t stupid. So I did what every young, unfortunate fool who gets tangled up in big time criminal activity and is too stubborn to ask dad for help does: I caught the first transport to Omega I could get. (I snuck aboard some mercenary gang’s smuggling vessel. I fit into crates quite nicely, don’t you know?)

Here's what I learned my first week on Omega:

No one gives a shit about you. They don’t care who you are, who you were, or what you did. Minding your own business is a matter of survival here.

The pickpockets here don’t even try to hide what they’re doing. They just run real fast when they get caught. I always catch them.

The bartenders here have never heard of a Rough Tide. At any of the bars and clubs.

There are a lot of assholes here who think they’re hiding the fact that they have goods that are worth something.

Hallex is a great time if taken in moderation and while dancing with bright lights and pretty girls.

Oh, don’t give me that look. Go back to lesson number one and mind your own fucking business. I was dealing with the traumatic death of my boyfriend, and the guilt of killing people. Besides, you learn to have a more relaxed view of party drugs when your own skin secretes a toxin that makes people see sounds and hear colors. I’m a walking party drug. What? No, you can’t try! What, am I supposed to let a stranger suck on my fingers or lick my face just because they’re curious? I don’t know you well enough for that. There’s a two drink minimum for that kind of talk.

Besides, you’ll need a clear head to get out of here. Or did you forget that we’re in a warlord’s torture cave?

It didn’t take very long for me to grow bored of partying my feelings away, and even less time for me to start planning a heist. Eh, less of a heist, and more like I broke into some rich pirate king’s hideout and stole anything I could carry that was worth something. I also hacked his terminals and wiped all of his accounts and infected everything with a computer in the building with a virus. His operations came to a screeching halt, and I gleefully lined my pockets with his ill-gotten gains.

Oh, you thought I was one of those do-gooder thieves who robs the rich to feed the poor or whatever? You’re too funny! I have rules against stealing from poor folk, and I don’t use street kids and beggars in any of my schemes like some others of my ilk. But I’m in this business for myself.

Breaking into low security hideouts and penthouse suites when no one was home lost its luster very quickly. I’ve always loved a challenge, and I’m prone to acting unwisely when I’m bored. I started traveling again, I’ve hit museums, government archives, art galleries, even corporate research facilities. Sometimes, someone pays me (I come pricey) to steal something for them, but mostly I hear about something I really want to touch (or fence, whatever,) and I go and take it. If my marks don’t want me to steal it, they should secure it better.

Oh, you’ll love this. Once, I received word that a relic of one Earth’s ancient royalty was going to be up for auction at some high society party in Paris, yes that Paris. Collectors have been shuffling around Marie Antoinette's pearl and diamond pendant for literal centuries. It was one of those “benefits” that the rich and famous throw that never actually benefits anyone but their own image. Stealing it was surprisingly easy. I stole it before the display case ever made it to the auction floor, but they didn’t even notice it was gone until they unveiled it to start the bidding. It was my first, and only, taste of champagne.

A waiter wearing a tuxedo hands me a fluted glass filled with golden, bubbling liquid. I taste it, and I’m very unimpressed. It’s very bitter for something that looks so tempting. A warm chuckle takes me by surprise, and I turn to see a handsome young man, dark curly hair, very dark skin and wide brown eyes, who is watching me. “Not a fan of the beverage offerings, I take it?” he asks jovially.

“No, I’m afraid not. The drinks on the homeworld are much sweeter,” I respond. There’s a slim-to-none chance that a random human on Earth would know anything about Kahje, and an exactly zero chance that he would know about Rakhana at all. I could tell him literally anything about my “homeworld” (one which I had not been to since I was ten, the other a place that was more cautionary tale and myth than homeworld), and he would have to believe me. I set the glass on a nearby table.

"Are you here for the auction? There aren't very many aliens here." He nods his head back toward to crowd starting to form on the bidding floor. He's right, there are a few asari here and one salarian, bright yellow skin with emerald speckles on his horns and the backs of his hands. I know my time is coming soon. The man smiles, teeth shining pearls, his left incisor is too high on his gum, giving it the appearance of an animal's fang. I like it. It's a shame I'll be leaving soon. I never learn his name.

"I am as a matter of fact, here on behalf of a hanar friend. He has an interest in antiques from other cultures, but sadly, could not make the trip himse-" My lie is cut off by first worried tittering up at the stage and the chaos and panic erupts as they open the secure vault container and find it empty.

The man looks around frantically, trying to piece together what is happening until his eyes fall on me again. More specifically, to the necklace hanging framed by the daring neckline of my suit jacket. A single tear-shaped pearl hanging beneath diamonds arranged in a ribbon’s bow, and above that one large round diamond, all hanging from a cheap silver chain I nicked from a department store jewelry counter earlier that day.

I press my finger to my lips and whisper, "Watch this." I take off running for the open balconies, pushing party goers out of my way, one, two, three strides before I am standing on the balcony rail, the small barrier to a long drop and a messy death. I rip the pendant free of the necklace and place it in a secured pocket sewn inside of my suit and step off the balcony.

With a twist my body I am hurtling towards the ground in a dive. A press of a small button on my bracelet as I spread my arms, my daring fashion choice turns from a strange, webbed cape sewn into the arms and body of my jacket, into semi-rigid wings. Soaring between skyscrapers is one of the most freeing experiences I have ever had.

It took a little doing, but I managed to sneak off Earth the next day. I still have the pendant. I wear it to parties sometimes. What do you mean, why do I wear it? It's jewelry, isn't it? I don't have an art gallery, friend. I don't typically keep things in glass cases. But don't get it twisted, even if you found out where I keep my things and occasionally live, you wouldn't be able to get in. That pearl stays mine.

Oh! That's our cue. That sound that just rocked the very foundation of this building is how I'm getting out of here. If you would be so kind as to press down on the bench over there with your boot while I - uh - change positions here to - uh - get better leverage with a good kick. There's a cotter pin in there I can use to break the lock.

Alright, on three be ready so you don't eat it when the bench collapses. One, two, three!

Beautiful! Now while the guards are all going to check out the giant hole in the wall- why did I plant bombs? Rule number one of thieving, always have a plan for if you get caught. I wouldn't have been caught if it weren't for some clown getting caught with their grabby little hands in Epirian's weapons cache just as I was heading to my original escape route. Funny that. But it’s no sweat off my back (mostly because I don’t sweat) but also because I always have a secondary escape plan.

Though they aren’t usually quite so … explosive.

But all is not lost. These idiots couldn't do a successful pat down on me even if I was naked as sin. There's an OSD in a hidden pocket with clones of all of Sitis' terminals and datapads.

What? Oh, you thought I was here for the art or his antiques? Ha! I guess I did allude to the art quite often. No. Dear old dad needed a hand. Family business, and all that. Do you know how many creds those corporate bigwigs at companies like say ... Armax Arsenal will pay to keep proof that they've been dealing super advanced weaponry to pirate king arms dealers an ugly little secret?

So much it would make your head spin. Let's say that good ol' Sitis deals with a few of these bigwigs. Papa dearest collects the blackmail money from those nasty weapons manufacturers, and dear, sweet Inonsi helps collapse Epirian's little criminal empire. For purely selfish reasons, of course. (Dear, sweet Inonsi also makes a fat stack of creds in the process.)

Now, stop interrupting. This is a Saronis Applications Securitron-X78 model haptic interface lock. A baby could open this with the right tools, but I do still need to focus. Just insert the pin into this little gap here, use it as a conduit for a little biotic pulse like such and bingo! We're almost home free, my friend.

If you’re going to stick with me to get out of here, you’ll need to do what I say, when I say it. We go with the flow, take our opportunities as they come to us, not a moment before, not a moment after. If we play our cards right, we’ll slip out unnoticed. And hey, if you impress me on our way out, maybe you’ll get the pleasure of being another one of my best bad decisions. What do you say?

[milfmorrowind]

Catch me when I fall (finale)

@tes-summer-fest

Part 3: Companion

ao3 link

part one part two

The next few days passed without incident. By resting in a series of abandoned buildings, hunters' shelters, and ancient tombs that Mailie swore up and down were perfectly safe, the pair managed to bypass taverns full of nosy townsfolk and the watchful eye of the Imperial Legion. They stood once again in the rain, this time outside the stone wall that encircled Riften's graveyard. And they were arguing again, naturally.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because my leg is broken, Mailie!"

"Oh I'm sorry, did you have a better idea?"

"I'm sure I could think of one!"

"Then by all means, do."

"I don't think I should have to have a better plan to convince you that I can't climb over a fucking wall!"

"Keep it down!" Mailie hissed. "Do you want us to get caught?"

Brynjolf gritted his teeth. "No, I want to go in through a gate."

Mailie threw her hands up in frustration. "I told you, we can't do that. Not unless I know for sure the guards haven't been told to arrest you."

"They've got plenty of reason to arrest me already. If they were going to, they would have by now. And don't try to tell me that I don't know that, because I do."

"This is different. The guards are more than willing to overlook thievery, especially when you have the Black-Briars' protection. But if the Legion, or worse, the Thalmor, are looking for you, they can't ignore that. Especially since we no longer have Maven on our side."

Brynjolf crossed his arms. "And who, pray tell, decided to cut ties with her?"

Mailie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. You've made your point. What do I have to do to convince you to go over this wall?"

Brynjolf paused for a moment. To his credit, he actually thought about it.

"Help me back onto the horse," he said. To Mailie's credit, she complied. The movement was still awkward, but at this point they'd spent the last several days lifting Brynjolf on and off of things, and had worked out something of a system. He would tuck his makeshift crutch under his left arm and place as much of his weight on it as he could. Meanwhile, Mailie would support him while he hopped into the stirrup with his right foot. Finally, Brynjolf would lift himself onto the horse, swinging himself onto the saddle and taking a moment to settle.

Mailie nervously patted the horse's side. "Steady, girl," she said softly. When the horse shook her head, Mailie glanced up at the sky.

"Everything alright, lass?" Brynjolf asked.

Mailie shook herself. "She's skittish. I wonder if we'll see lightning. I swear she can feel it coming." She took the reigns in her hands. "What next?"

"Take us over to the wall."

Mailie did so without question. Once Brynjolf and the horse were up against the wall, he slid off the saddle and onto the wall, crutch in hand. He then swung his legs over to the inside of the wall.

"Come on up, lass," he called down. "I'll need you to catch me."

Mailie scrambled up after him. "It's a long way down."

"Which is why you'll be catching me." Brynjolf glanced behind them. "Shouldn't you tie up the horse?"

Mailie shook her as she pulled herself over the wall. "No, she'll be alright. She's smart, either she'll wait here long enough for me to come back and get her, or she'll make her way to the stables." She paused for a moment to steady herself, then slipped off the wall. With practiced care, the moment her feet struck the ground, her knees bent to absorb the impact. She looked up to see Brynjolf wincing at her.

"Someday you'll regret doing that so much," he said.

"I'll consider myself lucky if I live long enough to suffer for it. Toss me the crutch."

Brynjolf shook his head. "I think it's best if I hold on to it. Gives me something else to break the fall."

"Suit yourself." Mailie stood below him with her arms outstretched. "Whenever you're ready."

Brynjolf grimaced, stuck the crutch out beneath him, and pushed himself from the wall. His good leg crashed into the ground and his knee crumpled beneath him. His body twisted as the crutch was rammed into his left underarm, and he pitched forward into Mailie, tipping them both onto the ground.

Mailie's head smacked against the muddy ground as Brynjolf's chin landed squarely on her collarbone. She tried to roll over and groaned as she realized his entire body weight was on her.

"Fuck." He managed to roll off of her with a series of winces and grunts.=

"I'll remind you that this was your plan," Mailie said as she slowly got to her feet. She reached out a hand to help Brynjolf up, but he waved it away.

"Save it, lass. Just get me into the Guild." He hobbled his way over to the nearby tomb, Mailie close at his heels. As he bent to avoid hitting his head on the top of it, Mailie slipped around him.

"Allow me," she said, pressing the button to open the entrance and once again offering him her hand. He accepted it this time, and let her help him to the entrance.

They all but crashed into the cistern. Apparently, a broken leg and a rickety wooden ladder did not make for a good combination, as Mailie learned when she lost her balance and sent them both careening towards the floor. She just barely managed to keep her footing, but not without stumbling shoulder-first into a wall. When she looked up, every eye in the cistern was trained on her.

She grimaced. "A little help here?" she said through gritted teeth.

For once, the Thieves' Guild actually sprung into unified action, and without a murmur of complaint. In an instant, Thrynn was on them, lifting Brynjolf off Mailie's tired shoulders and onto his own. Rune was on the other side of him, tucking the crutch back under his arm. Delvin lent Mailie a hand as she picked herself off the wall and clapped her (gently) on the shoulder with a murmured congratulations. Vex, for her part, watched them from a nearby wall, looking for all the world like Mailie had returned with a bag of loot rather than a recently captured man.

"You made it back," she said.

"That we did," Mailie replied. "And in one piece. Well, mostly." Brynjolf shot her a look at that last comment, but didn't seem to be in a state to find a reply. "Thrynn, get him to a bed, if you would. My room's the closest. Rune, find Herluin."

Brynjolf groaned. "The poisoner? Please, just kill me now."

Mailie ignored him. "Vex, Delvin, come with me. Everyone else, get back to work."

Thrynn helped Brynjolf down a passageway with Mailie, Vex, and Delvin not far behind. After Gallus died and the Guild started to decline, Mercer had ordered most of the corridors and rooms connected to the cistern closed off, since they couldn't afford to keep them filled. Following their recent turn of fortune, Mailie had opened them back up. There were still many they hadn't yet opened, and probably some they didn't even know about-- few remaining Guild members had been around while Gallus was still alive, and those that were didn't remember every room they'd ever used. The rooms that had been uncovered had been turned into storerooms, bedrooms for Guild leadership, and an office that Mailie still wasn't quite comfortable using.

Mailie stopped just outside her bedroom so she could hold open the door for Thrynn and Brynjolf. Herluin, who had caught up with them about halfway there, followed them in. Mailie shut the door behind them.

"How is he?" Delvin asked.

Mailie wrapped her arms around her torso. "Could be better. Could be worse. His leg is definitely broken. I did my best with it, but there's only so much I could do."

"I don't suppose he told you why he decided to fuck off to Solitude without notice," Vex said.

Mailie shook her head. "I never bothered to ask. In all honesty, I was largely concerned with getting us both back here alive." She ran a hand over her hair. She'd redone her braids that morning, but the rain, sweat, and wind had left it a mess. She needed to eat, sleep, and bathe, but the way this was going it might be some time before she got the chance.

Vex scowled. "You might have asked him, at least. For all we know he's gotten himself tangled up in some–"

She was interrupted by the door opening. Thrynn stepped out, looking angry, and more than a bit embarrassed.

"Lothaire kick you out?" Delvin asked.

"Aye." Thrynn said sullenly. He turned to Mailie. "He, uh, told me to remind you that he doesn't work for free." He at least had the decency to look sheepish.

Mailie rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. I'll deal with him later. Thank you for your help, Thrynn." He gave her an appreciative nod before returning to the cistern.

Mailie turned back to Vex and Delvin. "Regardless of what Brynjolf's been up to, he's going to be out of commission for the time being. Del, I need you to cover his rounds in the city. I know it's not your specialty, but I trust that you'll get it done. Vex, you may need to train some new recruits. Try not to scare any of them away, if you would."

"No promises." Vex crossed her arms. "And what will Brynjolf be doing? I take it he won't be catching up on his beauty rest."

"He'll pick up Delvin's records for the time being. Don't worry Del, I won't let him mess up your system. It's just until he's back on his own two feet."

"Desk work. Bet he'll just love that," Vex said dryly.

"It's what he's getting," Mailie said with a shrug. "Whether he likes it or not is his business."

The door opened again. Herluin beckoned them inside with a wave of of the hand. "Come in."

Inside, Brynjolf sat up in Mailie's bed with his left leg propped up on a pillow. His pant leg had been rolled to mid thigh, and his wound had been redressed and splinted with sturdy wood. Despite the apparent injury, the image of him sitting in Mailie's bed felt so natural she almost forgot they were not alone.

Next to the bed, Herluin gathered up used bandages and loose alchemical supplies. "My work is done, at least for now," he said. "I've set the bone and numbed the pain, but if he doesn't keep weight off it, it won't heal. He needs at least four weeks off his feet, as I've told him. Now, about my pay..."

"You'll get it." Mailie crossed her arms. "Last I heard you had bounties in Eastmarch, Winterhold, and Whiterun. I'll have them cleared."

The apothecary raised his eyebrows. "That's a fine gesture, Guildmaster, but I had something a bit more substantial in mind."

"You've had plenty of my gold, and the rest of the Guild's, too," Mailie shot back. "Tell you what. I'll take care of the bounties, and we'll cover the cost of your supplies. Deal?"

Herluin gave her a nod. "That will do. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Nicely done," Brynjolf remarked when the door shut.

"I've long since run out of patience for him. He'd charge extra for the cork in the bottle if he thought you wouldn't notice. Rather bold for a man implicated in three murders, if you ask me." Mailie sat on the edge of the bed. "How's your leg?"

"Better," Brynjolf said. "Itches like hell, though."

Delvin patted him on the shoulder. "Well, it's good to have you back. Right, Vex?"

"Yeah. Sure. Try not to be so stupid next time, will you?"

Brynjolf rolled his eyes. "It's good to see you too, Vex. Now, if you all don't mind, I've been informed that I should be resting."

"Of course." Mailie stood. "Vex, Delvin, head back to the Flagon. I'll meet you there."

Mailie shut the door behind them as they left. Back turned to Brynjolf, she placed her palm flat against the door. As she tensed her hand, a haphazard web of green energy crawled across the surface. She closed her hand into a fist, and the web sunk itself into the door. She turned back to Brynjolf with a face as hard as stone.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

He blinked in apparent confusion. "Lass?"

"Did you not hear me?" she all but hissed, stepping towards him. "I'll say it again: What the fuck were you thinking? Sneaking off to the other side of the province, not telling a soul what you were doing, nearly getting yourself killed– I know you're smarter than that. So what in Oblivion was going through your head?"

Brynjolf opened his mouth, then closed it. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Like hell you don't. I broke you out of prison and smuggled you back here. I think I deserve to know why."

"I–" Brynjolf's voice faltered and he looked away. "The house I was breaking in to. The owner knew my Da."

Oh. Bryn didn't talk about his life before the Guild often. It had taken Mailie a long time to figure out that it was because he hadn't had much of one before-- his father had died when he was twelve, and he'd spent a couple months at Honorhall before escaping with Vekel and Tonilia. She had never pressed for details, but from what she'd heard, it sounded like his father did not die of natural consequences.

She sat down next to him. "Tell me more."

Brynjolf swallowed. "His name is Hroldar. I never learned how he and Da knew each other, but I met him a couple times as a kid. If I'm honest, I'd forgotten about him until recently. It's been two decades since I saw him last."

"So you went to Solitude to see him?"

Brynjolf nodded. "Around a fortnight past I got it into my head that I had to speak with him. I'm not sure I could tell you why. Anyway, I asked around and figured out he'd bought a house in Solitude. When I showed up, it was late, and the house was dark. I... I got impatient. I got up on the roof to find a way in and a guard spotted me. He told me to get down, and I didn't. He got out a crossbow and-- I suppose you can figure it out from there."

"And the Thalmor?"

"They've been trying to convince the legion to give them authority on the streets next to Castle Dour for ages. Something about 'headquarters security'. One of them got into an argument with the captain over whose custody I belonged in. If we've any luck at all, they're still pitching a big enough fit about it to delay the search for me."

Mailie reached out and placed a gentle hand on his chest. She'd only meant to comfort him– although she couldn't quite say why– but she frowned as she missed the feeling of a familiar shape. It took half a second before her heart sank as she realized what was missing.

"Bryn," she said softly. "They took your amulet."

His jaw tightened. "Aye."

"I'm sorry, Bryn. I know it was your father's." Her heart skipped a beat. "They didn't..?"

"The elves didn't see it, if that's what you're after. I wasn't in a state to be taking off my armor, so they had someone helping me. When it swung out of my shirt, I thought for sure I was done for. Even among the Legion, there's plenty who are willing to look the other way when it comes to Talos, but not in Solitude. This one, though... without a word, he took it off my neck and tucked it into a pocket."

"Did you catch his name?" Mailie asked.

Brynjolf gave her a shrewd look. "Don't bother with it, lass. I'm alive. That's more than I expected."

Mailie wanted to argue with him, but she knew now wasn't the time. He needed a rest, and so did she. She should leave, reconvene with Vex and Delvin, change out of her borrowed armor, and go to bed, but she just couldn't bring herself to get up. So she sat there, hand moving with the rising and falling of his chest, until he broke the silence.

"Lass?"

She withdrew her hand, expecting him to shoo her away. "Yes?"

Brynjolf looked her in the eye. "Why did you break me out?"

For some reason, Mailie's entire body tensed up at his question. She hoped he hadn't noticed. "Well... I couldn't just let you rot there. We didn't even know why you'd gone. Someone had to find out what kind of trouble you were in, at least."

Brynjolf pushed himself into a straighter position. "That's all well and good, lass, but it doesn't explain why you came. You're a damn good thief with a good, if stubborn, head on your shoulders, but you aren't a prison breaker. You put yourself in a lot of danger for me. Why?"

Mailie was at a loss for words. She'd spent nearly every moment of the last week wet, tired, and hungry, and hadn't had much time to think about what she was doing, or why she was bothering to do it. But every night since the prison, when she'd settled down on a hard stone floor, rickety wooden bed, or half-wet patch of dirt next to Brynjolf, some part of her had relaxed. Despite the soreness of her muscles and the unshakeable chill in her bones, the familiar heat of his body and strength of his arms had made it all worth it. But she didn't know how to tell him that, not without sounding like the foolish little girl she'd tried so hard not to be. So she did the only thing she could: She leaned forward and kissed him.

She'd kissed him countless times before, but this was different. She tried to put everything, every word she couldn't say, every thought she didn't know how to share into the union of their lips. He seemed surprised at first, and she almost thought he might push her away, but in a moment his hands were on her, pulling her close. Mailie knew there was not an inch of her body that Brynjolf didn't know like his own, and yet he touched her like something rare and precious. It was no different for her; every brush of his fingers against her waist sent a shock through her body.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of kisses, Mailie retreated, though just inches from his face. Brynjolf's hand cradled the back of her head, and she knew he would be running his fingers through her hair if she hadn't braided it.

"I love you, too," he whispered.

She rested her forehead against his, endlessly grateful that he'd understood. "I should get back," she murmured as she pressed another kiss to his lips.

"Mm. Or, you could stay here–" His hands drifted to the buckles of her armor. "--and give me something to focus on besides this gods-damned leg."

She gently pushed his hands away. "Someone will hear us, Bryn."

"I can be quiet... besides, you muffled the door, remember?"

Mailie rolled her eyes playfully. "I knew you'd figure it out eventually. Regardless, I should go before Vex comes looking for me."

"Fine." Brynjolf settled back against the bed. "Come see me after?"

"Well, I have to sleep somewhere, don't I?" She leaned down and kissed him again. "Get some sleep, love. I'll be back soon." With that, she stood up to leave.

"Oh, by the way," Mailie called from the door. "You've got Delvin's bookkeeping duties until you can walk."

"Desk work?" Brynjolf sputtered. "You have to be fucking–"

Mailie shut the door and walked down the corridor, chuckling.

[ripp3dh3art]

The Villain Arc. - Ch.2 The Genesis.

The past few days, I've been preparing myself for what's to come in my courses. I've never been more excited than I am right now. I even got offered a room in the building across from headquarters for hero trainees. Koa did give me a heads-up a day or two ago about the rundown that will take place in class. No pressure since she really does want me to leave a good impression on the professor and the higher-ranking heroes she works with. Our class consists of six students, including Tora and me.

Heroes are all placed in different-letter ranks depending on what class they belong to as well as their skills. The more you contribute to helping keep everyone safe, the higher your rank goes. We do live in a society where people who don't possess any form of ability are able to get a spot in the hero world, even if it is riskier for them. They devote themselves to making the world a better place.

The reason it really mattered to me about getting into this course was because, growing up, I was given up by my own father and left with my very ill mother, who didn't have very much time left. He blamed me for leaving us because he feared my ability. According to my mother, my ability was a curse and nothing close to a blessing, and she punished me for it. Yet I still know that, deep down, she loved me in her own way. Well, that's what I kept telling myself for the sake of my own sanity. The thing is that after my mother passed, Tora's parents decided to take me in as one of their own. They showed me what it is to be loved and wanted, which filled my heart with warmth. Tora and I were raised to believe that even though some may look down on us, we will always have the choice to close that gap and stand with them, not against them. Things didn't start taking a turn for the worse until we started the academy. 

One day after class, we decided to walk instead of taking the bus home since it was packed because of the rain. One thing led to another; we ended up getting followed, and I got slammed against the wall by one of our classmates while the others went after Tora, making her fall to the ground, and that was what struck a nerve in me. 

My mind went blank. 

I will never forget the look on Tora's face at how terrified she was—not by them but by me. What I was told is that the reason my ability got provoked was because of the burst of adrenaline that went through my body, which kicked me into an instant fight or flight mode, making me fully lose control. That's why I will do anything in my power to be able to control it. That's a promise I'm willing to make. I will become one of the world's greatest heroes to show that nobody can hold you back other than yourself.

I finished getting dressed, wearing one of my black dresses and my favorite platform boots. Once I was outside, I checked my phone to take a quick peek at the time. With 40 minutes to spare before class starts, a quick breakfast wouldn't hurt. It sounds like a plan; maybe I can bring Tora something too, since I know sometimes she forgets to eat. I scanned all the small shops near me as I continued walking, my eyes landing on a familiar tall frame making their way through all the people.

Is that no? It can't be. It has to be him.

Before I knew it, my legs had a mind of their own, making their way to him. Where is he heading? Since he's walking so fast at this point, I'll never catch up to him. I noticed him take a sharp turn into an empty alleyway, not knowing where it led, yet I continued running after him. I ended up crashing into someone, breaking my fall. "Are you not watching where you're going?" the man grunted as both of us were now on the ground, not even facing me yet. Panting, I shook my head, blurting out my apologies. "I'm sorry, I was trying to catch up to someone, but I didn't think anyone would be standing here." I tried explaining myself as he turned to face me.

It was him, one of the guys I met the other day, the dirty blonde-haired one who had covered his face just so I wouldn't be able to see him. He smelt nice, nothing like his friend; he had a softer scent; it was earthy mixed in with the smallest bit of cologne. I also had a clear view of his face; he was pale, and his face was slim with tired eyes. His eyes were a soft shade of gray, nothing to do with that dark front he puts on. His dirty blonde hair framed his face perfectly, making his eyes stand out. But something I didn't notice before was that he had a scar on the corner of his lips. I reached over to trace it, wondering what had happened before my wrist was suddenly loosely gripped, snapping me out of thought. His cheeks were tinted a light red, confused by what just happened. Was I about to touch his lips? I could feel my cheeks heat up, but he ended up breaking the silence. "You're sitting on me," he said under his breath. I quickly pushed myself off of him, getting up and fixing myself, and he stood up right after me. 

"Who are you?" I said, staring at him, hoping for a straight-forward answer. He shook his head, beginning to walk away, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I didn't chase after you just to fall on you, so the least you can do is tell me your name," I spoke up, grabbing onto his arm and making him stop in his tracks. 

"Who am I?" He trailed off before looking over his shoulder to look directly at me.

"My name is Rei,"