#and then im gonna pause and go on ANOTHER search frenzie—

[iced-souls]

You ever be just minding your business, doing your normal thing, thinking ‘wow this day is going completely as expected! I understand myself and life is finally not confusing!”

And then suddenly someone gives a lecture or you see a video or you search something up about some kind of thing people can have that is said to affect life. Like adhd or gender or somethin I dunno—.

And then they go to the symptoms or behaviours and such and you go like “….. damn why do all of these apply to me what—“

And so you go on the rest of the day doing more research and thinking that you probably are said thing, when in reality you probably don’t and it was whatever but you’ll never know cause yeah.

[a-singleboat]

Virtual Reality

Word Count: 2.4k

Request: hi! if your taking requests, i was wondering if you could write a damien x reader, where they meet through Twitch? add anything else you want i always love everything you write, thanks so much!! - anon

Warning(s): like, one swear

It was a Thursday night when you first met him, or rather, heard of him. You had been streaming for five hours heading into your sixth when you decided it might be time for you to log off for the night. As per usual, you took at least thirty minutes at the end of your stream just to talk with your viewers, usually about how their lives were going in exchange for a story from your own day. 

Tonight, however, there was an influx of people asking if you’d ever heard of a streamer by the name of Damien Haas, which you hadn’t, and if you would do a collaboration with the man anytime soon. Apparently, your content was eerily similar and you were, and I quote, “Practically the female version of him, looks aside.” 

“Damien Haas…” you rolled yourself back closer to your desk, hands settled on your keyboard. You typed his name into the search bar, patiently waiting for Twitch to pull up his account. You clicked into the first one, making an impressed face at the purple checkmark next to his name. You squinted at the screen. “Is this him? In the profile picture with the LEDs in the background?” 

You glanced at your chat, chuckling as the viewers started spamming ‘yes’ and ‘oh my god it’s happening,’ and your personal favorite, ‘mom come pick me up the best crossover of 2020 is happening and im SCARED.’

“He plays a lot of Animal Crossing,” you observed, clicking on one of his videos and dragging the tab onto your main monitor so the stream could see it. You skipped through the beginning part, biting into a pretzel as you watched. 

“He’s kinda cute,” you commented, laughing as your stream freaked out once more. There were a few people commenting what looked like it could be a ship name though you ignored it. “Shame I’d never meet him, though.”

You paused his video, taking note of the time, before rolling out your shoulders. “I think it’s time for me to head out so I’m gonna end this stream with a huge thank you to you all for sticking with me through this entire stream and if you didn’t stay the entire time, I’m glad you decided to join in on the ride even halfway through. I’ll see you guys next time.”

You ended the stream, waving goodbye to your viewers before the light went out and you could relax the smile off your face. Don’t get it twisted, you loved streaming and you loved your viewers but just like any other job, it could get exhausting at times. You shut down your monitors, the screens turning blue before fading to black. You stretched, taking your phone up from its charger and launching yourself into bed, opening your phone and clicking on Twitter. 

Much like staying thirty minutes after you were done streaming to talk to viewers, you usually went on Twitter right after to answer questions and respond to DMs. This time, however, instead of opening the app to see a bunch of post-stream questions, your mentions were filled with the video clip of you saying, “He’s kinda cute,” as well as maybe a million people tagging both you and Damien in them. 

Well, shit. 

Soon enough, that was all that filled your timeline. You couldn’t move in one direction without running into another screencap of you admiring the man. God, you knew the consequences but something in the back of your mind was urging you to reach out to him.

After a few moments of contemplation, the lonely side of you won out, forcing you to message him against your better judgment. Without even thinking about it, you found his Twitter and sent this message:

Hey, I’m sorry about your mentions blowing up because of me tonight. My viewers recommended your Twitch to me and I spoke without thinking about it on Live. 

And with no expectation of his response, you fell asleep right there with your phone on your chest and the DM still open. 

You woke up the next morning with a sore neck and a dead phone, which was a terrible way to start your day. You rolled over, plugging your device into an outlet before crawling out of bed to start your day. When you weren’t streaming, you worked as a freelance editor for different YouTubers, helping their editors with their workload or even staying on as a Temp for different companies. Occasionally you edited the odd commercial here and there, but those gigs were rare. 

Most recently, you had received some material from a group of YouTubers, Smosh. This job was different, however, because if you did well on this you could be looking at a permanent place of employment through their parent company, Mythical Entertainment. 

You knew Mythical Entertainment, it was hard not to, especially since your aunt was one of the producers within the company, but tended to ignore everything the company did. The last you’d heard, they’d onboarded another YouTube group (which you did later find out to be Smosh, the same YouTubers whose video you were hired to edit). 

 After a quick shower and a half-assed attempt at a proper breakfast, you were ready to start your day. You situated yourself behind your monitors, opening the video clips that had been sent to you. The first was a sample video, something that gave you insight on what their editing style was actually like. 

But imagine your surprise when you’re staring down the same man you have called cute the night before, his approximately five-eleven stance taking up one-sixth of the space. He was standing next to a blond, who had been marked as “Shayne Topp.”

Despite there being five other people in frame, your eyes kept moving back to Damien’s figure, watching his mannerisms through the screen and laughing along to his jokes when they fell upon deaf ears. 

Your eyes slid over to your phone, now decently charged after sitting for so long. On your screen were dozens of notifications. There were maybe two from your mom, asking if you’d be coming home for dinner sometime that week but the majority came from Twitter. You picked up the device, unlocking and responding to your mom with a, “yes,” before opening Twitter. 

Nothing much had changed from the night prior. Your mentions were still being flooded with the video from last night but newer content had been ushered in, namely fan edits using footage from your streams and, you assumed, his. 

The only major difference, however, was the fact that Damien had responded to your DM from the night prior. The first message read: 

It’s really no problem! My stream had mentioned your name before, too.

Followed by the second:

P.S. I think you’re cute, too.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Mr. Damien Haas, the man that you had made a thoughtless comment on stream about, also thought that you were cute. Suddenly, the fact that you had been staring at him for the past hour seemed less stalkerish and more like a blooming crush. You wrote back:

Aw, thanks! Have you seen the newer fan edits? They’re all so talented.

You cringed at yourself. A cute boy started talking to you and you’ve suddenly forgotten how to be suave, not that you really were in the first place. But still, you liked to think you had some tact when talking to people that you found attractive. 

Not even a moment later, there came a response. 

Yes, I have, he responded. And I agree! They are all very talented individuals. 

You looked from the monitor in front of you. You had about a quarter of the footage left to go through before you could start editing but this technically wasn’t due until the following night. Feeling emboldened by the fact that he had actually responded, you replied:

Are you going to TwitchCon on Friday? We should meet up or something. 

Anxiously you awaited his response, taking his silence as an opportunity to watch a bit more of the footage and take down notes according to the sample they’d given you. Roughly thirty minutes later is when the next response came in, reading as an affirmative to both questions. 

You didn’t respond, choosing to leave your social media for after you’d finished editing the video. Your heart still pounded, however. Just the thought that there was a possibility for the two of you to meet was, simply put, insane. You’d just heard of the guy the night before and decided that he was going to be your latest hyperfixation. 

But who could blame you? He was a nice, funny guy that showed the slightest bit of attraction towards you. It didn’t help that you were a sucker for guys that were nice to you. 

Fast forward to the Friday of TwitchCon, also known as the first day of TwitchCon. You and Damien had been talking steadily over Twitter DMs and just last night you had gained his phone number, giving you even more access to the man than you had before. But of course, who were you if you didn’t tease your fans with the prospect of you meeting. 

The night before, at the end of your stream, you’d given your fans the little tidbit of information that you and Damien were, in fact, planning on meeting up sometime during TwitchCon and would be greeting fans together for an hour at your booth. 

That sent Twitter into a frenzy, both of your combined fans getting your ship name to trend within the hour, which confused the hell out of a bunch of locals. 

It was nearing the time you and Damien had set to meet up. The plan was you’d meet around twelve for lunch, take an hour for yourselves, before going back to your booth and meeting with fans for an hour or so as promised. 

You had never been more nervous than you were in that moment. Not only were you about to meet your three-day-old crush but apparently a very popular YouTuber. You tried not to let the thought mess with your head. One of your friends, Wilbur Soot (who you played Minecraft with from time to time) was poking fun at you for being nervous about meeting a popular YouTuber. 

After three years of streaming and gaining a solid following, you’d think you’d be used to meeting other popular content creators. But because it was him, you found yourself unable to think straight. 

“What if I fuck up?” you asked Wilbur anxiously. He’d flown in from London for this event at your insistence and because you’d offered to pay half his airfare to get there and back. He didn’t have his own booth as his arrival was very last minute, but he didn’t mind. He signed the occasional poster though his main purpose was to provide you mental and emotional support. 

“You won’t fuck up,” he comforted, leafing through one of the comics a fan had given you. The entire thing was hand-drawn, which was an insane fact in itself. It looked professional, which was what blew you away when you’d received it. “Well, you won’t fuck up as badly as you did when you first met Schlatt.”

You groaned in embarrassment. “Don’t remind me.”

Long story short, you’d dumped a red in color slushy on the man accidentally after tripping over an unmarked cable. It really wasn’t your fault but the boys hadn’t let you live it down since then. 

Half a moment later, Wilbur was poking your side. “Is that him?” he asked, jabbing his pointer finger into your side while looking in the opposite direction. He was looking at a familiar figure walking down the hallway toward your booth. He stopped for a moment to take a photo with a fan, talking to them about something, before continuing on his way toward you. 

Your eyes locked and you gave him a smile while trying to beat Wilbur into no longer poking you. He stopped when you slapped his arm the first time, sticking his tongue at you before going on his phone. You rolled your eyes at his half-assed attempt of pretending he wasn’t about to start listening in on your conversation. 

“Hey, Y/n, right?” Damien asked as he approached. You nodded, reaching out for a handshake but becoming pleasantly surprised when he instead pulled you in for a hug. 

“You ready for lunch?” you asked glaring slightly at Wilbur as he made kissy faces over Damien’s shoulder. Luckily, Damien hadn’t noticed your moron of a best friend. 

“Yeah, I saw this sushi place on the way in if you wanted to try that?”

“I’d be down,” you agreed, reaching behind your table to grab your bag. Wilbur was set to meet with a few other Minecraft streamers, meaning you didn’t have to worry about him while you had lunch. You looked over your shoulder, making sure everything was set for you to leave before saying goodbye to Wilbur. 

Over the course of lunch, you and Damien had gotten to know each other pretty well. Once the conversation moved away from your fans and, well, work, and more into personal details, you found that you actually weren’t all that similar. For starters, Damien loved watching anime while your guilty pleasure was Gilmore Girls. The one show you both had a love for, however, was Avatar the Last Airbender, which made sense. 

Another thing was that he actually enjoyed being in front of the camera while you tolerated it on most days, really only putting on your face cam for the last thirty minutes on most days. Despite that, he still classified himself as an introvert. 

You returned back to your booth much later than you anticipated, thoroughly shocked at the line that had formed with Wilbur at the front of it, entertaining the fans that had shown up early to meet both you and Damien. 

“Y/n!” one fan called, pointing in your direction. Immediately, the entire line turned and gaped at the sight of you and Damien walking together. You greeted them happily, stopping for pictures and verbally promising that you’d stay until you got to meet everyone personally. 

“You really love your fans,” Damien observed as you put your things back down behind the table. Wilbur had set up shop on your right side, chatting with a few people at the front of the line. 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere without them,” you admitted, pulling a silver sharpie from your bag. You handed a gold one to Damien. “I also wouldn’t have gotten to meet you without them, which I’m still sorry about, by the way. Your feed must have been chaotic.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded, grinning up at him. “Yes, they do.” 

Permanent

@beautiful-holland @toms-order @starlightfound @grandmascottlang @positiveparker @bippity-boppity-boopa @caswinchester2000 @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch​

[gingerwritess]

Y'all I am in need of some Loki fluff. Like, pure and unadulterated fluff and cuddles and just Loki and im s t a r v e d.

mama whipped this out way too quickly for you but um i thought this would be the cutest lil scene so here, a gift just for you

okay i adulterated it a lil and it got kinda smutty but it’s mostly fluff….sorry

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Someone forgot to close the blinds before falling asleep last night.

Well…kind of understandable. Maybe you’ll let it slide considering this is the first time you’ve ever woken up to find that “someone” lying naked right next to you, hogging the sheets to keep himself somewhat decent.

Shoving your head under the pillow isn’t doing the trick and sunlight is still pouring into the room, so you groggily sit up with a yawn—oh, ouch.

Are those muscles supposed to be sore?

It’s a good sore, you think, swinging your legs off the bed and curling your toes into the carpet under the bed as you search for some clothes. Behind you, Loki is still snoring softly, an arm already laid across your side of the bed awaiting your return.

Your side of the bed…woah.

In the frenzy of passion and whatever the hell else had taken you last night, your shirt ended up in the far corner of the room, so you reach for the nearest piece of discarded clothing: oh, perfect. Loki’s shirt.

You can’t help but bite your lip with a grin and spare a glance back at the god behind you. Should you wear it? To do so seems so… childish? Stereotypical? Cliché? But the shirt, a simple button up with the sleeves still rolled up to the elbows from Loki’s completely unnecessary but completely successful attempt at seducing you, just seems like the perfect thing to cover your bare body.

Maybe he’ll like waking up to the sight.

You track down some new underwear and slip the shirt over that without a second thought, bare feet padding across the room to close to blinds. Each step sends a new jolt of pleasant aches through your legs, not enough to hurt, but just enough to serve as a perfect reminder of the lines you and Loki had crossed the night before.

Though the sunlight is illuminating the room in an incredible golden warmth, you’re not quite ready for that at this too early hour, and Loki seems to be squinting in his sleep, so you close the blinds—just for a little while longer. You peek out the window while you’re there; it’s absolutely beautiful outside. Spring is on its way now that the rains have paused and the blankets of snow have melted away, leaving behind a stunning expanse of vivid green grass, the morning dew on each blade sparkling in the glaring sun—

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more heavenly sight.”

You whirl around with a start at the gravelly sound of Loki’s voice, and sure enough, he’s woken up, propping himself up on his elbows as he stares at you with an easy half smile on his face.

“I—uh, sorry,” you whisper though there’s no reason to stay quiet. “I thought you were still—sorry, um, g’morning, Loki.”

Why do you feel so exposed? He’s staring at you and apparently doesn’t plan on stopping, and you don’t really know what to do anymore. You feel suddenly stupid for wearing his shirt; yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have done that after all, so you quickly shrug the shirt from your shoulders.

“No, no, no,” Loki sits up more fully, reaching out a hand to you. “Keep that on. Please.”

He’s sitting up against the headboard now and well, now you are staring. He still is completely unclothed, his stomach bare and too tempting, and he has the thin sheet covering his groin just barely—he moves to stand up and you gulp, for some reason not ready to see him completely exposed again.

You’re pretty sure you just need to sit down before that happens again.

“My shirt suits you, darling,” he grins and stands up, the sheet dropping away. You instinctively shoot your gaze to the ceiling and hold up a hand to block yourself from seeing anything. Stepping closer to you, Loki laughs deep in his throat and takes your outstretched hand, bringing it to his lips. “What do you think you’re doing? Aren’t we past that now?”

“S-sorry,” you mumble and force your gaze back to his face, trying not to melt under his adoring smile and how he runs his thumb along your hand. Words don’t seem to be working properly for you right now, unlike Loki’s strange ability to have himself completely composed and eloquent even having just woken up from such an extensive night.

It’s…kind of intimidating, if you’re being honest.

“So I’m nailing this whole ‘morning after’ thing, aren’t I?” You groan sarcastically and pull your hand from his grip, trudging back to the bed to flop down on it and pull a pillow over your face. “What do you even say to someone after…after that? ‘Thanks?’ ‘You were great?’"

Loki is just a little too perfect. You’ve known that the entire time you’ve been together, ever since you first kissed him. You’ve always known that you are, for lack of a better word, unworthy of his affection. So then why on earth had he just let you, some awkward little Midgardian, bed him? And why is he pretending to have enjoyed it?

You can hear him chuckling softly and feel the bed dip beside you as he resumes his place at your side, locking an arm tightly around your waist. Light floods your eyes once again when he pulls the pillow off you, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Thanks,” he whispers and you can feel him grinning. “You were great.”

“Shut up, Loki.” You keep your face squished into the mattress.

“What has my lover so troubled?” He trails his lips down the side of your neck, slipping his shirt from your shoulder to attend to the skin there, too. “You’ve bedded a god, darling. I don’t mean to sound self-righteous…” he pauses and moves back to kiss the spot on your neck he had discovered last night, the one that had made you practically melt in his arms, “…but you should feel exceptionally proud of yourself.”

“I should be proud of myself for getting in your pants?”

Loki laughs and runs his tongue over the gentle bite he just left on the curve of your neck. “That’s one way of putting it.”

You mull it over for a moment, your stomach twisting into knots at the careful attention Loki’s paying to your neck, then finally turn your head to look at him. “So you weren’t just faking it all night?”

His jaw drops with a shocked little laugh and he puts a hand to the side of your face, running his thumb along your cheek. “I would have thought this spoke for itself,” he gestures downwards with a grin and you bury your face in the mattress again.

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

“As am I!” He barrels into you then, pushing you onto your back and hovering over you in one fluid motion—you keep your eyes squeezed shut though, still not able to look him in the eye. “Why in all the nine realms would I have had to fake anything under your devilish touch?”

You open your eyes to glare at him and give him a good poke in the stomach. “God of lies.”

“And yet you never fail to bring out the truth in me.”

“Okay, Shakespeare, take it easy.”

Loki just grins and leans down to place a soft kiss on your pouting lips, and within seconds you can’t stop the blissful sigh that escapes your throat.

“What is it going to take for me to convince you?” He murmurs when he pulls away, adoring eyes searching your face, then he dips back down to steal another kiss. “I’m prepared to spend the entire day in bed until you believe me.”

Your arms wind themselves around his neck before you have a chance to stop them, holding him closer and keeping him against you, and you feel his lips curling into a proud smirk on your own. You kiss him until he darts his tongue out to try and begin round two, then plant your hands on his shoulders and shove him off of you. “A tempting offer, but I’m hungry. How about breakfast and we never talk about this again?”

He’s still scowling about being ripped from your lips, but his eyes darken when you mention breakfast and he starts actually crawling towards you, eyes narrowed and stalking you. “Breakfast, yes…”

You gulp.

“Consider me starved.” His fingers wrap around your ankle and he lifts your leg to rest over his shoulder, starting to plant heated kisses down the inside of your leg as you scramble breathlessly back against the headboard.

“L-Loki, I’m…I’m serious—”

“Shh. Just lay back and let me distract you for a moment.”

And does he ever. This time it’s all about you, and you can tell he’s trying to prove himself to you, convince you of his feelings, a sentiment you do greatly appreciate through the haze of pleasure he’s trapped you under.

“Have I convinced you yet?” He asks when you finally rip the pillow off your face that you had grabbed and bit down on when he pushed you over the edge, desperately trying to muffle your cries—but also partially to hide your face from the god between your knees.

“I’m—fuck—I’m still hungry for actual food,” you pant and throw the pillow at him, which he only swats out of the air with a laugh before it can hit his infuriatingly perfect face.

“Oh, fine.” He climbs off the bed and tugs on a pair of black boxers, walking to your side of the bed and holding out a hand to help you up. “To be continued.”

Thank god he gave you his hand, cause your still trembling legs nearly give out when you stand up and you fall against his side as your head spins. “Shit,” you groan and he laughs, steadying you with a hand on your waist. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Then I will ensure you die happy,” he promises with a chuckle and takes your hand, leading you down the hallway into the kitchen as you hurry to keep up.

Moments later you’re leaning against the kitchen counter staring at Loki over the rim of a bowl of cereal, his shirt on your body fluttering open in the gentle breeze coming from the window Loki had opened.

He is positively glowing, leaning on the sink across the tiny kitchen from you, blowing gently on the steaming cup of tea in his hands. You’ve never seen him looking so alive, so youthful and content as he does now, just drinking his tea in his underwear with a little bit of sleep left in his eyes, his lips a touch redder and plumper than usual—thanks to your relentless kisses, you proudly remind yourself.

And his hair…you smile into your bowl so he doesn’t see you almost laugh. For what you think is the first time since you’ve been together, it’s not perfect and silky and flowing majestically in the wind like some hair commercial. It’s still fucking gorgeous, of course, but right now it’s tousled, tangled, and curly, curlier than you’ve ever seen it.

It’s easily the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

There’s this one curl of hair that’s looped in on itself and is resting over his left temple, sticking out from his head and making you just want to run your hands through his hair again, smooth that little curl out—

“You’re staring, darling.”

You can’t help but give a sheepish laugh at being caught and point at his head. “Sex hair.”

He glances upwards as if trying to see it and laughs, running a hand through his hair—aw, there goes the little out of place curl. “I can only imagine how much of a mess I look right now.”

“Nuh uh, you’ve never looked better,” you assure him, finishing your cereal and walking over to put the empty bowl in the sink. Once you’re within his reach, Loki grabs you with an arm around your waist and pulls you into a one-armed hug against his chest, immediately attacking your neck with a million little kisses.

“Perhaps a shower, then?” He purrs as you double over laughing at the mercy of his lips, trying halfheartedly to squirm out of his grip. “Only to clean ourselves, of course. Just to wash my ‘sex hair,’ we won’t do anything else.”

“That’s believable,” you huff and push yourself out of his arms, turning around to stare at him a little longer. He’s much too smugly sipping his tea, waiting for you to do something, so you do, without really thinking: you reach up and take his face in both hands, lightly squishing his cheeks together into an adorable little pucker—his brow furrows in confusion as he stares down at you.

“You’re the cutest thing alive,” you giggle and jump up on tiptoe to land a quick peck on his pursed lips.

“No—I…what?”

Aw, he’s turning red. “I am not cute. Of all the adjectives you could have picked, you went with cute—ohh, oh.”

You just dragged your hands down his torso, letting your fingertips follow the bumps and ridges of his muscles to play with the waistband of his shorts, and his voice falters as he melts under your touch. “You were saying?”

He narrows his eyes at you, breathing a little heavier. “I was saying we need to go shower, right now.”

Biting back a grin, you glance down at your hands and notice a little mark on his right hipbone near your hand, just in that little dip of the v of muscles pointing down. A tiny bruise, it looks like, reddish purple and standing out boldly against the smooth planes of his skin—put there by you.

You poke the hickey without thinking, looking up at Loki with a bewildered laugh. “I did that.”

He raises an eyebrow and nods, taking your hand in his. “Yes, you did…you sound surprised.”

“I am surprised,” you tell him honestly, letting him lead you towards the bathroom. “I’m surprised we did that.”

“It was bound to happen, don’t you think?”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m surprised, but definitely not complaining.”

Loki shuts the door behind you and you find your back against it, one of his arms on either side of your head. Trapped beneath him, you grin up at him and reach around to slap his ass just to mess with him. “Not complaining at all.”

He laughs and runs a hand up your thigh, kissing you hard and pressing your back into the door. “I’d like to keep surprising you, if you’ll allow me,” he murmurs against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and starting to walk you backwards towards the little shower—wait a minute. Your little apartment’s shower barely fits you.

“Loki, wait, wait, wait, I’ve only ever heard horror stories about shower sex.” You lightly push him away and gesture at the shower. “Um, logistically speaking…this might not be the best idea?”

He hums in acknowledgement but surges back forward to meet your lips, a hand coming up to grip your jaw and kiss you harder. “Mm, I’m willing to risk it. I know we can make it work.”

You sigh and shrug Loki’s button up off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor and stepping over it as Loki’s eyes light up. “Fine.” You hold out your hand to him. “But if I slip and hit my head and die, I’m gonna kill you.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007@himitoshi@drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1@yzssie @skullvieplu@forthesnakeofdragons@skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica@storiesfrommirkwood@agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@paradisaicsam@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites@tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong@holyn0vak  @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas@the-republic-and-face-of-texas@doralupin01@whitewitchdown@atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs@vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd@confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter@arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose

[xoexoxhoe]

Iced Coffee

Anon Request: “inspired by the treasure cafe lol. can you write barista! hongjoong getting it on with s/o in the kitchen with overstimulation and cumplay but if you're not comfortable with it it's fine. thank you!”

A/N: ANON. I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. But my co and I totally knocked this out of the park and I hope you love this because this was actually really fun to write! Please enjoy, and again im so sorry it took so long but we wanted to make it the best that it could be! Hope it’s alright!!! 😪💛

Characters: Kim Hongjoong (Ateez) & Y/N; (special appearance of another member el oh el)

Theme: barista!au, barista!hongjoong, hongjoong & reader

💥Warning: SMUT, angst, temp play, overstimulation, & a bit of sass💥

“So, I’ve got an iced americano with two shots of espresso. That’ll be $4.50, sir.” You reached across the bar as the business man before you gently placed the crumpled dollar bills into your palm, winking at you before sliding another piece of paper along the granite countertop. You raised an eyebrow, “Sir?”

“Keep the change, Y/N!” he sauntered to a table in the corner of the shop to the far left, waiting for his order and continuing to watch you work. You flipped over the ripped piece of paper only to discover his number on it. You crinkle your nose, shoving it into your pocket, knowing that work was more important at the moment. Hongjoong was leaning against the countertop behind you, rolling his eyes, hating the way this other guy was looking at you- no, gawking at you and not even being sly about it.

He reached forward to grab the paper cup from you, working on the order swiftly, measuring out the coffee and ice into equal proportions. He took the dark espresso and poured it into the cup, mixing it only half as well as he should have, finally securing a lid onto the drink and sliding it onto the pick-up section of the bar. “I’ve got an iced americano on the bar, two shots of espresso, for…” he took a few seconds before smirking, “Park Jay-gook”. The name was clearly written for ‘Park Jaegyu’, but Hongjoong didn’t care. Jaegyu took his leave after bitterly receiving his coffee from Hongjoong, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Hongjoong walked past you, brushing his fingers along your back playfully, sending a chill down your spine. It was a long day at work for the both of you, and you couldn’t wait to close down the shop with him at your side, knowing that he’d wanna take his time wrapping sandwiches with you, restocking the shelves, and asking you how your day was, although he spent every second of it with you. He never failed to keep you comfortable, always ensuring you were safe and taken care of on and off shift.

“That guy was a real ass today; but wait! He’s like that every time he walks into this cafe.”

“Joong,” you giggled, restocking the pre-made drinks and smoothies in the small fridge below the bar.

“You know, Y/N, I don’t even make him americano’s sometimes, and he still drinks that shit. Fucking creep. He’s just in here to see you.”

You stood up slowly, shaking your head, “He’s just-”

“A creep. He’s just a creep.” Hongjoong stood near the french press, scratching his head while looking down at his phone, the cleaning rag in his other hand sopping wet.  

“What’s wrong?” you paused, staring at the rag, “Joong- Hey, there’s water dripping all over the floor, by the way.” You walked across the cafe, closing up the window shades and locking the front door.

When you turned to face him, he was leaning his head on the wall. “Shit.”

“Joong- the water.”

“Oh!” He quickly grabbed the mop next to him and circulated the water along the floor.

“What? Did that girl- Wait. What was her name again?”

“Ki-”

“Ah, I don’t care. That girl. What, did she dump you or something?”

He looked at you with an uneven smile, “No, she didn’t dump me, thank you very much. I told her I didn’t wanna be with her anymore because…” his words stopped as he held the mop at his side, rocking back and forth, “Ah, It’s complicated.”  

“Complicated? What do you mean? I know you didn’t really like her anyway, right?”

Hongjoong just smiled at the ground, walking to the kitchen in the back and leaving you there to ponder among your own questions. “Joong!” You made your way to him, “Did I say something?”

His hands were to his face now, massaging the bridge of his nose, “I couldn’t be with her because I told her about you.”

You felt yourself get hot, “What?”

In that instance, Hongjoong had his hands traveling down to the small of your back, pulling you into him and kissing you softly.

You stared into his eyes, clouded with lust, “Hongjoong, I…” your voice trailed off, your fingers brushing his cheek and cupping his chin, “Let’s just keep kissing, I guess?” your sheepish smile won him over.

“You guess?” his hot breath began fanning across your neck, working its way to your throat through the soft pecks he left.

“I mean, we’re already here, we might as well keep going, right?”

He raised an eyebrow, a sinister grin spreading across his face, “It’s completely up to you, Y/N.” His hands began sneaking up your back, unhooking your bra with ease, pulling it out from under your shirt. He locked eyes with you again, searching for your approval. You gathered his fiery locks in your hands, tugging at the roots of his hair, simply nodding while leaning into a passionate kiss.  

“Wait, shit-” you stepped away, leaving him breathless and heaving. You peeked your head out of the kitchen, surveying the empty room, ensuring you locked up correctly and pulled down all of the window shades. Hongjoong showed up behind you, placing a hand down your pants, catching you off guard. You let out a tiny yelp and fell forward onto the barista counter, your hands fumbling against the container of ground coffee beans. You turned your head, seeing Hongjoong step closer, pushing you up against the counter even further, sweeping his hand across the granite, sending canisters of whipped cream and empty milk cartons to the floor. You wasted no time in unbuttoning your jeans and clawing at your thong, sending them to the floor hastily before he whirled you around, picking you up and placing your bare backside onto the counter. As he loosened his belt, letting his own pants meet his feet, you looked at him with wandering eyes, “Joong,” his fingers began to tug at the hem of your shirt, prompting you to lift your arms, sending the polo over your head. You eyed out the milk cartons on the floor, slowly dripping its remaining contents onto the tile below, “You literally just mopped the fucking floor.” His lips trailed along your belly button, planting kisses towards your pelvic area, “I mean- Oh my god. I’ll- I’ll clean it up later, it’s fine-”.

He licked his fingers, placing them in you and moving slowly, pressing against the walls of your core. You tilted your head back, unable to think straight. He smirked, reaching across the bar to open up the ice chest at the right of the espresso machine.

“Oh, hell no-”

A slippery ice cube swirled in the palm of his hand, slightly pooling at his warm touch. He slid the ice into his fingertips and ran it across your chest. Your breath hitched, your jaw locked, and you felt numb when he placed it on your breasts.

“You like that?” he whispered against your skin. The combination of the freezing ice and his nimble fingers made you dizzy.

You nodded, reaching your hand aimlessly behind you and snapping your head around when you heard the familiar whirring of the coffee grinder. You let out a little giggle, and so did Hongjoong as you turned the machine off quickly, refocusing at the fact that you couldn’t hold in your moans anymore, They fell out of your mouth like you were handing out free mochas on international coffee day.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

His voice was low, only making him seem even more irresistible in this moment. He felt you tighten around his fingers, pushing them in further, dropping the ice cube from his other hand and using it to play with your clit, sending you into a shaking frenzy against the counter. “Hongjoong, I-”

He didn’t let you ride out your orgasm for long, pulling you back down to the floor and holding one of your legs against his side, plunging himself into you with his thick, veiny cock.

“I would not have expected it to be that big,” you chuckled, rocking back and forth in his arms as he fucked you senseless.

“Why… not?” his hips thrust faster and harder, his grip around your thigh tightening as he grit his teeth.

“Joong, you have the smallest hands, it’s so adorable, I wouldn’t have thought your dick would be-” you felt a hand wrap around your neck gently, Hongjoong’s body easing into you even more. He stuck two fingers into your mouth, “that big-”

“What?” his cock twitched inside of you, and you could feel the way his hips grinded against your clit, his tip hitting your g-spot with a burning intensity. “Are they too small now? You’re not acting like they’re small now, Y/N. Go ahead and say something.”

He gagged you with his fucking fingers, breath barely able to escape, but you relished in the way it made you feel. Another orgasm was heading your way, but that didn’t stop Hongjoong from placing more pressure onto your neck, tears of pleasure now streaming down your face while he plowed into your pussy. With a shaky voice, you let out a loud moan. His tongue licked his lips and he sucked in a large breathe between his teeth

“Hongjoong- wait, fuck…” You let out a muffled scream through Hongjoong’s fingers, mustering what little strength you had to push away from him and bend down with your knees on the floor, taking his length in your hand and placing it into your mouth, jerking him off quickly. He wrapped his hands in your hair, mouth fucking you and pushing your nose into his belly. You gagged slightly as he entered your throat. The warm cum filled your mouth, trickling down your lips and onto your neck.

He looked down at you and smiled, “I didn’t expect that shit-”

You took his cock back in your mouth, sucking him off even further, the onset of overstimulation blooming in his face. A hard ‘fuck’ escaped his lips, his legs were left shaking. You swallowed every last drop of him, not wanting to waste. As you stood, you pulled your jeans and thong up from the floor. Hongjoong did the same, handing you your shirt and placing his belt back into the loops along his pants, smiling to the floor. When his eyes finally met yours again, he lifted a finger and dragged it along your lips, removing whatever cum was left. You caught his hand and sucked on his finger, winking at him as it popped out of your mouth.

“So… I’m guessing that girl couldn’t do that, huh?”

Hongjoong pulled you into a kiss, “Y/N; no other girl could do it the way you do. I’m sure of it.”

He walked you home that night after helping you rearrange the cafe you both so willingly ruined for a good time. When morning came around, you had the pleasure of working with Hongjoong again. He kissed you before unlocking the doors for the start of the day, “Ready?”

You nodded, “Only if you are, Joongie.”

At about 11:00, the owner’s son, Choi Jongho, strolled into the cafe, his dark glasses being lifted slowly as he stared at you.

“Good morning, Jongho! What can I help you with, little brother??” you displayed a soft smile, and Jongho just shook his head.

“Morning, Y/N. Good shift last night, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, “I- Yeah, actually,” you grinned again, remembering what happened vividly, “Maybe it was fun?”

Hongjoong saluted Jongho while waltzing out from the kitchen with a wet rag and a few cookie containers. He restocked the shelves in an orderly fashion and cleaned the barista area, leaving it free of any loose coffee grounds and whipped cream spots.

Jongho let out a sigh, “Just get me a large iced mocha, two shots of espresso, chocolate walls, and a pump of peppermint.”

You wrote furiously on the cup, handing it over to Hongjoong, “Got it! Give us five minutes. Free of charge.” you winked unable to hold back your confused look as Jongho closed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Jongho shook his head, “Please don’t wink at me, Y/N. Its given me nightmares.” He stopped halfway to a table and turned, “And please, don’t use the ground coffee beans on the left side of the bar.”

After about five minutes of you whispering to Joong on how weird Jongho was being, it finally clicked in your head. Oh shit.

“You know…” he slid a USB towards Hongjoong across the bar, placing his glasses back on and gripping his coffee, “You guys are so lucky I scrubbed the security footage before my mom ever got to it.” Hongjoong dropped the carton of milk he was holding, and you placed your hands across your mouth. Jongho laughed, “To be honest, I know Hongjoong was nasty, but you, Y/N,” he shook his head, “Filthy animals; the both of you.” He made his way out of the cafe, and you burst into laughter. Looking at Hongjoong’s face as he ran his hands through his hair, his cheeks flushed red with anguish.

You shrug your shoulders, realizing that what’s done is done, “Well…” you gave him a peck on his cheek, “Guess you’re just gonna have to come home with me from now on.”

[kryptonianbcrn]

SYNOPSIS: Mike ( @ofdaxam ) leaves Haven in a last ditch effort to find medication for an ailing Kara. During his search he runs into a young woman at an abandoned hospital --- Brianna Fraser ( @laidirnighean ). After a short run in with clickers, it’s divulged that the young woman is a doctor and Mike pleads with her to return to Haven and attend to Kara. Brianna agrees and after Kara is treated Mike offers a permanent home for Brianna in Haven.

MIKE MATTHEWS.

He’s staring at his fingers soaked in red blood. His own blood. He almost want to laugh out of pure hysteria. A million thoughts fighting for the forefront of his mind, yet he can’t seem to grasp a single one. It’s a big hospital filled with infected and every single shelf has been ransacked. Except the one lab that had three clickers inside and it was locked from the inside out. He’d punched his way through a window and that’s as far as he’d been able to go through. Mike and Kara had gone through so much — this really couldn’t be it, could it? It was one of his many negative thoughts. Because how much worse could this get? She’s gotten impaled, shot at, she’s been kidnapped and a single scrape would be her demise? And his if he doesn’t save her. “Please open,” He whispers under his breath, his forehead pressed against the cold metal frame. He was tired. Lost two of his men already, sent the rest back to Haven. He kicks the door again, a moment of weakness and frustration. He wants to scream. God be damned, he’s not gonna go without a fight. He pulls his gun out, the nuzzle peeking through the hole he’d managed to punch through and he shoots. Round after round till he’s out of ammo and only one clicker left. “Great idea, Matthews.” He quips sarcastically as he tosses his gun in frustration, “Now how the fuck are you getting in?”

BRIANNA FRASER.

her bag was getting heavy now, the supplies she’d gathered weighing down upon her back. but she needs them, for every town she crosses, for every ill person she comes across, brianna needs them. pulling her gun out from her holster, she settles into the idea of leaving now. finding a place to stay for the night and furthering on her journey to finding roger. that was the plan, medical supplies and all- but shots fire and her attention is shifted to their location. ricocheting around the building like a pierced stone. she pauses, breath catching in her throat at the sound of movement in her direction before she’s running in its direction, eager to find the owner and desperate for zero casualties. its only upon her arrival does she see him, a man outside one of the doors, firing shots and killing the infected that linger inside. leaving one left standing. gun flies to the side in his frustration and her brow quips. within moments, she’s stepping forward, gun angled at the machine that lights its lock and fires. she’s ransacked enough to know now how to get into unauthorized areas. “hold up,” the redhead whispers, pushing it forward and firing to more bullets into their enemies skull, “it’s always two to the card reader,” she nods, placing the gun back into its holster. briefly, she lingers before spotting the blood on his hands, panic sweeping her. “are you hurt?” bree begins, “.....bitten?”

MIKE MATTHEWS.

He’s broken out of his reverie, nearly knocking into the wall in his desperate frenzy to get into the lab. His eyes widen at the sight; a red head, small, young and alone? Mike is confused, shifting back. The last clicker’s dead and she seems to want to help him more than harm him and he’s almost relieved. His breath catches his throat at the prospect of her knowing how to get inside, but he wonders? Would she also need the penicillin he so desperately sought after? He looks to his hand, it was bleeding but it was okay. He’d known better than to shove his fist through a window. “My hand’s beyond repair, but no I’m not infected.” He chuckles, closing his fist, eyes flickering back to the, now, empty lab. “I’m trying to… get penicillin. This is the only place I haven’t checked.” He straights his back, following her direction until the door opens. “Are you by yourself?” He’s almost nervous to know that a young, seemingly good human being is roaming around such dangerous territories. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. It was strange to meet someone and not have them attack at first sight. He often had to remind himself that not all humans were lost.

BRIANNA FRASER.

her eyes are still focused on his hand now, bag being slung over her shoulder and bandages being pulled out in an instant. “maybe not that kind of infection,” she begins, unwrapping the cloth with her hand and shrugging a shoulder, “but with the amounts of bacteria in the hospital alone, you may just get another kind.” brow raises then as a small smirk settles across her lips and she’s looking back in her bag again, pulling rubbing oil from it and then proceeding to drench the material. wasn’t the most ideal way to heal him up, if anything, he needed stitches, but they would have to make do. “you won’t find any in here,” she chats, still busying herself. “more so the instruments -but i have some, you can take it.” she pauses then, tearing the bandages before halting. his question causes her to give pause before she remembers, beyond his injuries, she does not know this man. and so she stands back a little, hands lowering to her side and twitching next to the gun that rested on her hip, “im alone,” she nods, focusing on him, “but don’t think that leaves me at a disadvantage.”

MIKE MATTHEWS.

He’s suddenly worried about this chatty, but seemingly harmless person. He had questions? Like why are you alone? Why help him? A man that probably to others would seem rather suspicious. He notices it then, how off his question would’ve seemed to anyone alone. “Sorry, I don’t mean to scare you.” He flashes her a sheepish simper, straightening his back, “My wife, she’s got an infection and our town nurse said she needed antibiotics. We ran out months ago.” She had bandages, if hadn’t known better he would’ve pegged her as some sort of paramedic or doctor. Maybe she was. He couldn’t be sure. “Are you — are you a doctor?” His eyes flicker to the bandages and back up to the auburn haired woman, gulping at the thought that he might’ve spooked her to the point he looked like someone who wasn’t trustworthy. “I’m unarmed. That was my last round of bullets.” He nodded towards his discarded firearm as he wipes the blood from his hand against his flannel. He’s too tired at this point. “I really need your help. If you can help. I don’t know how else to help and I can’t lose her. I’ll pay you with anything. We have a lot of resources; food, water and empty houses. Anything.”

BRIANNA FRASER.

she’s very still for a moment, fingers still lingering close to her gun. she’d met a few people along the way, who sought to hurt both infected and uninfected alike, she didn’t need another off chance right here. that trepidation doesn’t last long though, not at the mention of his partner and her illness. because she can see it, the look in his eyes that practically pleads with her to believe him. and she does, without hesitation. this life was difficult enough without having the fragility of common illnesses be in the way. “i know, i barely look old enough to have graduated college, but yes. im a doctor,” she nods to him, face settling into comfort as she steps closer to him, “one that can tell you right now that wiping your hand on your shirt was a dumb idea, and one that doesn’t need payments to check on your wife.” she’s slow in her inflection then, no amount of money would be worth a life. in this situation or another. that’s what her mother had always taught her. with ease, she lifts his hand then, regardless of the necessity of permission. she presumed he’d rather keep it than lose it later down the line. “this is going to sting,” brianna whispers, wrapping the damp cloth around his wounds before tying it neatly upon his knuckles, “ill grab some needles,” she nods, “some disinfectant. and then we can go?” pulling back, she moves to the cabinets, taking whatever she can and packing it into her bag, “what’s your name?”

MIKE MATTHEWS.

He’s taken by surprise as she grabs his hand and tends to it. By the mild sting he could presume it was alcohol soaking the cloth, cleaning his wound as she wraps it tight enough to stop the bleeding. He lets her, because; yes, wiping his hand on his dirty shirt was a stupid idea. Most ideas he’s had today had been anything, but brilliant. In his defense, he hadn’t slept in days and had barely been able to find his way around the dilapidated building. He doesn’t even flinch. Not because it doesn’t hurt, but because his hand was mostly numb after they’d near shattered the whole thing in the early stages of the breakout. “Thank you,” He utters, picking his discarded gun and tossing it into his backpack, "Our place is not too far from here." He keeps an eye out, watching her back as she picks up more supplies. “My name’s Mike,” He replies, leaning his weight against the doorframe after strapping his bag to his back and crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s your name?” Darkness was beginning to push in all around, the whispers of the wind making his hairs stand on the back of his neck. He hated traveling at night with an unreliable flashlight as his guide for his footsteps.

BRIANNA FRASER.

finishing her packing, brianna lofted the bag back onto her shoulders before strapping it across her chest and pulling her gun back from her holster. he was unarmed, she remembered, so one of them had to keep it out. “brianna,” she nods in his direction, “nice to meet you mike.” and it was. it’d been a while since she’d really seen another living soul. two weeks maybe now, she noted. having used her days for multiple supply runs and gathering of medicinal products for when she was finally ready to move on. leaving the fireflies, it left with her with nothing. it was all she could do but get ammo, and weapons and kit herself out. but standing here and talking with a living breathing person? it almost caused her to cry in relief. following behind him, she’s quiet, focusing on the sounds around them and the potential for any danger that could come their way. her own mind lingers with thoughts and feelings, on his “place” in particular. a hand lifts to scratch her cheek as they press on, tongue wetting now dried lips. “is it just you?” she questions, anxiety pressing into her lungs, “just you and your wife, i mean. at the place we’re going? or are there others?”  roger lingered in her mind briefly, hope that maybe he knew this mike playing on her mind. maybe he was alive, and well and safe. “i don’t mean to pry, i just haven’t seen people in a couple weeks.”

MIKE MATTHEWS.

He’s careful, keeping his two ears for out of the norm noises that aren’t Brianna’s voice, the wind or their footsteps. It was a trick Kara had taught him, his own footing was a little rougher and heavier — he never did manage to learn how to walk more quietly, but he was quiet enough. He didn’t mind talking, in fact, it made the unsettling sight of withered building and overgrown vegetation a little bit easy to endure. “No, it’s not just me.” He turns his head, squinting as he urges his eyes to adjust to the darkening skies. Hoping they would make it into Haven before the complete black out. “There’s a whole community, actually,” he quips proudly, a little smile stretching across his features as he thinks of his friends and everything they’ve managed to build from the ground up. “Men, women, children. Whole families, really. All hard working and willing to get their hands dirty to make things work. Kara — she, uh, keeps things running. People love her.” He turns slightly, shoots her a sympathetic smile and nods, “You’re not prying. I don’t blame you for asking. I would be asking questions, too.” She reminded him a bit of himself and Kara, willing to help but also cautious. “Why are you running off by yourself? I mean, I don’t mean to pry either, but there’s strength in numbers. At least, that’s how Kara and I have managed to survive — As you can see,” He lifts his hand playfully, “I would’ve probably been dead by now if it weren’t for her. She's usually the one to make the smart decisions."

BRIANNA FRASER.

hope bubbles in the pit of her stomach at his admission, hope that she knew was premature in its arrival, but was there all the same. a community of people. that was more promising than anything, she knew. a group of people, that could only mean that someone could know something.  “ive always been kind of a loner,” she nods, not going into massive amounts of detail. her past was complicated, this “apocalypse” aside, her life had always been complicated. “i keep moving, because im trying to find someone.. his name is roger. wakefield. roger wakefield,” smile crosses her features at his name, she hadn’t spoken it in so long, shed almost forgotten what it sounded like. “he isn’t- at your camp is he?” brow raises and head cocks, eyes stay focused on the back of mikes head. a dangerous thing it is, to hope. she only had to think of her mother to know that, but brianna can’t exactly help it. “what’s wrong with her?” she piques, interest flowing her now to try and think of the best possible way to cure whatever it was ailing her, “can you describe her symptoms?”

MIKE MATTHEWS.

He's seen that look before. He's worn it himself. That hopeful glint in the eyes. The same tone of voice -- when Kara had been kidnapped. "Roger," He frowns, shaking his head apologetically, "It doesn't sound familiar, I'm sorry." He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes drift back to the horizon. "I don't really know everyone's names at Haven, so I don't want to say no. I'm not very good keeping up with that sort of thing. We could ask around Haven to see if anyone knows anything, but I haven't heard of a Roger Wakefield." He answers truthfully, "It's most been a high fever, a lot of pain in her body and nausea. She can barely stay awake anymore." She's dying. If they don't do anything soon, she would. He knew as much. "Our town nurse says it's some kind of infection because her immune system wasn't the best at the time she got the cut."  Minutes drag on to the point they feel like hours, but there it was. Haven. He smiles in relief at the sight of their small gated community, "There it is." He nods towards their guards, he waves his flashlight to signal their arrival.

BRIANNA FRASER.

brianna nods at his response to her question, the hope fizzling as quickly as it had come. it was a stretch, to think that he’d have traveled this far south, she knew, but it had been worth the ask. not that she was hoping out for mikes reassurance of not knowing everyone by name. if he was anything to go on, he and his wife, kara, they seemed to be the ones in charge. knowing roger like she did, it was doubtful he wouldn’t at least try and get to know them better. pulling on her backpack, she nods until he explains karas illness, waves of nausea running through her. it was something, she knew, that had it been treated quicker, would have only last a day, maybe two. but by the sounds of it, this woman was fighting a losing battle. she picks up pace then, following him into his haven and towards where they stayed. pulling her bag off of her shoulder, she follows him into the room where kara lay before she settles on the edge of the bed. a hand rests against the woman’s sweaty forehead before she gives pause, intrigue washing over her, “kara danvers,” she whispers, mind buzzing at the thought of alex danvers, “you’re alive...” a small smile pulls at her features then before she’s rummaging through her bag, “kara danvers,” she repeats, briefly looking at mike before pulling needles and penicillin from her bag, “i met her sister alex, a while back, she didn’t know if she had survived. but-“ she presses the liquid into the needle, tying fabric around karas arm and finding the right location to inject, “i can’t believe you’re alive.” she proceeds to work on her then before finally pulling everything away and moving again to pull out more cloth and dampening it, wiping the sweat from karas face before leaving the coolness of it across her forehead to try and fight against the temperature. she removed another and followed with pressing them across her shoulders, “you’re going to be alright,” she nodded, hopeful. “need to cool you down so your body can start to fight...”

KARA DANVERS.

it's impossibly hot but, then again, there hasn't been a moment recently where kara has known anything else. voices come and go with fading consciousness. a few short broken words here, a wet tongue against her burning cheek there but it's all she can filter through the haze clouding her mind. kara aches. the type of thundering pain that sets into your bones, weighs down your muscles until nothing seems to work and everything is this heavy, heavy, heavy thing. the cold cloth pressed to her forehead has been changed more than three times and there's been a bottle lip pressed to her lips more than once. with the growing inferno comes something else entirely --- the opening of a door, the low snarl of an animal. sam. and her mind knows that, knows it enough to let out a small "shhhh." a low whine accompanies the soothing hiss but even that little moment of clarity drains her. and then --- everything happens at once. someone is above her, a young woman she doesn't know even through the lethargy of her mind. the others words, though, spark a small flutter of adrenaline. "alex," her throat is rough, name grating against the back of her throat. heavy lidded blue eyes shift to the newcomer, searching with all her might for answers. but kara doesn't recognize her, and the new information flits away as quickly as it had come. there's a tightness around her bicep, a small pressure that pricks at the crook of her arm. kara's gaze shifts past the others shoulders, landing on mike and it's like a damn has broken. the blonde flashes a weak smile, sighing as she relaxes back into the bed. "it's hot," she manages to whisper, eyes suddenly clenched shut.

MIKE MATTHEWS.

They’re moving quickly. He’s a little nervous as Brianna is the one that seems to urge them to pick up their pace when he was already in a hurry. It makes him fear for Kara even more, dread sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach. He dodges a few people, throws a few hellos here and there and a few “I’ll talk to you soon.” They barge into their home, then their bedroom where they find Kara. The stench of sweat and illness nearly knocking him to his knees. She looked absolutely ill. It was heartbreaking. He couldn’t bare the thought of Kara suffering. He stands aside, lets Brianna work. Chewing on his cheek, arms crossed over his chest. Brianna is talking again, mentions of Alex Danvers making his stomach flutter. His eyes flicker form the back of Brianna’s head to Kara whose blue eyes are glassy and red. He reaches her bed, kneeling at her side and placing a small kiss to her cheek. He shoots an apologetic glance at Susan, it’d taken him too long. “You don’t know how happy we are that you’re back.” She sounds relieved. Paula, too, her smile is tight and her gaze tired. He looks back to Brianna, “where is Alex?” He questions, eyes squinting into inquisitive slits. “Is she safe?” He has so many questions, though his main focus would always be Kara. “How long? Till she gets better, I mean.” He doesn’t know what to do. Seeing Kara ill mostly threw him into a fit of panic and clouded thinking.

BRIANNA FRASER.

“i know,” brianna nods to kara who writhes beneath her, annoyance filtering her tummy for a long moment at the idea that were was simply a damp cloth to suffice for the heat that scorched through her. she tears more material and dampens it before putting it on her wrists. fastest way to try and cool her down, one of the most effective ways at that. she follows by pouring some water into her hand and running it through the blondes hair, letting the coolness saturate her scalp. this, alongside the antibiotics, it would help, speed up the process and beat this infection. “she’s safe,” she nods with a smile, “doctoring a camp that i stayed in a few months back, but then again she doing different runs to help different people. but she’s okay, i promise,” she nods to mike then, lips pulling into a tightened smile as she continues to keep reapplying the cooled materials to kara’s head, shoulders and wrists. “with the antibiotics and the cooling methods? she should start to perk up in a few hours. definitely needs a few days bed rest, but by then id suggest she be out of this room and in another. one that’s more aired out,” she nods before placing her hand upon the cloth of kara’s forehead, “but she’ll make it. just needed the right medicine.”

KARA DANVERS.

kara almost misses it. the soothing creep of something far colder than fire seeping its way through her body. it starts at the crook of her elbow and spreads outwards, ice in her veins. then, more still. her forehead. wrists. through her hair. a blanket of cold, cool, comfort washes over her. there's the faint hint of a smile at the corners of her lips as she sinks back into the bed with a relief filled sigh. "thank you," she murmurs, blue eyes blinking open to the woman. "thank you." she doesn't know what else to say. what else to do. for a moment she wonders if she's died because this --- she's dreamed of this moment for days now. the fire erased with a calming coolness. the touches are far more manifested than her fever induced mind can muster, though, and the soft press of lips to her forehead bring her some form of awareness. this is real. this is happening. her hand searches across the bed for mike, seeking anything that will prove him concrete. sam lets out another low whine, paula excuses herself to get more cold water and susan observes, shifting into an almost seemingly content and procedural silence.

MIKE MATTHEWS.

“I’ll have to go find her.” He makes a mental note of it and shelves away for later. He wanted to bring Alex back for Kara, but his selfish need to see her better overpowered any other. His grand her hand with his good one, pressing swift kisses to her knuckles. She feels warm to the touch. All to be expected due to her fever. “I’m here, darling.” He hushes her, pressing her hand against his cheek. He couldn’t possibly tear his eyes away now, but he does to direct his next words to Brianna. He was thankful, but the lump in his windpipe made it so difficult to say much. “You really don’t know how thankful we are.” He sighs in relief, wanting nothing more than for Kara to regain some colour and talk. God, how he misses her voice. “I know you said no thanks are needed, but we do have room for you. There’s vacant houses with electricity and running water. There’s plenty of food.” He looks back to Kara, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I’m sure Kara would want to properly introduce herself.”

BRIANNA FRASER.

she smiles at them, how careful he is with her, how soft she is with him. its nothing short of the usual sensations she feels when helping others. the smile she garners though, it soon fades and she’s left thinking about roger again. brianna misses him. more than she would ever care to admit out loud. eyes fall to kara’s hand as it presses into mikes cheek. she licks her lips then, focusing on the syringe in her hand and giving them the privacy she feels like they need. “if it’s all right with you,” the redhead nods, “id like to at least stay until kara gets better. just in case anything happens, im not saying it will, but id rather be safe.” she nods then before gathering her things and putting them into her bag, “but i appreciate the offer, thank you.”

MIKE MATTHEWS.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” He offers a smile, his good hand reaching out to card through Kara’s  hair. Being around his wife made him feel instantly better. “Our doors are always open for you.” He looks back to Paula who nodded her approval, quirking a smile of her own in the doctor’s direction. “We can give you a tour around Haven when the sun rises. I know Paula is dying to show around the little  medbay she’s managed to put together.” He rests Kara’s hand back and rises to his feet, he hesitates bringing up the man she’s searching for. He didn’t want to give any false hope in a world so full of grief. So he makes a mental note to ask around his towns people if they know of a Roger Wakefield tomorrow. “I hope you don’t mind giving me the coordinates of Alex Danvers’ camp. I would really like to bring her home to Kara.”

KARA DANVERS.

with the small amount of clarity she's managed to regain, kara focuses. eyes shift around the room with far more concentration than she's had in the past week, passing between people. the girl that's treated her is far younger than she'd originally registered and couldn't be any older than mid-twenties, housing the composure and intellect of someone far older. mike's there beside her, face heavy with concern and exhaustion but his touch, like so many times, is soft and comforting against her own. with what little strength she can muster, kara brushes her fingertips against his cheek, flashing a small warming smile. it's so good to see you she wants to say but the words catch, tongue heavy and brain still this side of lethargic. until alex's name is dropped. mike is no longer beside her and that alone has drawn her attention, but when the name of her sister filters through her ears kara cannot help but blink. "alex?" she questions, hand shifting to try and handle the weight of her body as she attempts to push herself up. it's a weak and pathetic attempt, exhaustion sapping any straight she's managed to find within the past few moments. "she's -- alive?"

BRIANNA FRASER.

"i'd like that," brianna nods, smile garnered in mike's direction and then geared towards paula. it suddenly dawns on the redhead then that she's in a room full of strangers, new to this small family and seemingly interrupting their dynamic. accidentally of course, but still, the discomfort of being the "new girl" starts to settle into her stomach and she's left to look at her hands awkwardly, "of course, yes, anything." and with that, she turns her attentions to the apparatus in her hands and busies herself with putting it away and back into her bag. kara letting her fingers touch mike's face softly once more feels like an intrusion, and she's ready to leave. that is until kara speaks and is trying to pull her body up. "hey," brianna starts, small smile filtering through cheeks but voice serious, "you don't want to be getting ill again, and dizziness is sure to follow in the moments that pass between your head and not touching that pillow." gently, she places hands on the woman's shoulders before fixing the cloth upon her head. "she's alive, very alive. helping whoever she can. she mentored me for a while-" had been like an older sister, actually, "she talked about you. a lot. so can i say, it's an honour?"

KARA DANVERS.

there're a million things she wants to do, ideas and thoughts and plans swirling around in her head now that she's actually clear enough to properly think. it feels like she hasn't been able to do it in days, mind weighed heavily under a constant fog. but now everything comes crashing down at once. and at the mere mention of dizziness, it hits her full and hard in the face. kara gets a few inches off the bed before lethargy seeps into her arms and the hands placed gently on her shoulder feel like boulders. "dizziness?" she manages to get out, swallowing thickly and lying back down. "m'totally... there's no dizziness." a halfhearted laugh puffs from between her lips and she grins, half assed and weak but it's --- something. something that isn't whimpers and panting. a long sigh escapes her next, eyes fluttering closed at the new information. "i..." she trails off, licks her lips and shakes her head. "i'm so glad she's okay." there's a hint of tears in her words but kara clears her throat and opens her eyes. "i think the... the honour is all mine. you're the one who saved my life." a pause, "i don't even know your name."

MIKE MATTHEWS.

Logically he knows Brianna is a doctor, she seems to be a good one too, he knows that if she says Kara will be alright then it means she’ll be alright. On the other hand, his more paranoid side wants to beg her to heal her as if with the wave of a wand she could magically make her all better. Then Kara is rising to a sit up position and Brianna is gently pushing her back down — of course his wife would be eager to find Alex. He almost wanted to run out of haven and go get her himself right now but if Paula’s threatening glance said something it was that he better not dare leave town for at least a month. Or until Kara’s made full recovery. So he stays put. Admitting defeat before he has a chance to argue. It dawned on him this whole time he didn’t even introduce the woman who’d just saved his wife’s life. “I’m sorry I’m so rude,” He sighs, rubbing his neck shyly, “Susan, Kara, that’s Brianna.” He clears his throat and shoots a small smile in Brianna’s direction, “We ran into each other back at the hospital. I was wondering who ransacked the building and well,” he gestures in her direction and chuckles, “Pretty good shot, too.” A weight was lifted off his shoulders, hearing Kara talk  and move and regain some colour it brought him some peace. “Brianna, as you already know that’s my wife; Kara and that’s Paula. Susan is our towns nurse.”

BRIANNA FRASER.

“nice to meet you all,” the redhead nods, gesturing a smile to each new face, who now had respective names. the awkwardness that had settled across her body seemed to melt slightly at the easiness of now being able to say she knew them. with that, she rubbed her hands on her khakis before gaze shifted over to mike. “i think i ought to maybe get to sleep,” she nodded, thinking now that she was finished that the couple definitely needed a little alone time and not some strange girl who evidently talked too much but said so little. the line of her lips pull a little before she rests a hand upon karas, “just take it easy though, yeah? just because you start to feel better doesn’t mean your body actually is better.” the redhead stands then, reaching for her rucksack and slinging it over one shoulder, “I can sleep wherever. till morning at least.”

KARA DANVERS.

she can feel her concentration slipping from her with each passing moment. now that the fire has been subdued kara feels as if she can sleep. peacefully so. even though a small part of her fears closing her eyes. this could all be a dream. a hallucination. fate pulling her into a deep unconsciousness that she will not return from. "i'll try to take it easy," she replies, flashing a weak smile with half lidded eyes. "no promises, though."her hand grips tighter around mike's searching for that solid anchor of realism as she feels weary sleep claw at her. "get her a... nice bed. some food. clean... clean water." the words spill from her lips as her eyes blink shut, slowly fading into slurred speech as unconsciousness takes her.