#i had to wiggle him a lot to get him somewhat normal

[somelegobird]

Lloyd seeks counselling from a higher being, blåhaj (and then falls asleep on him like that one Totoro scene)

also

good.

[ayekittyk4t]

pollinate

pairing: plug eren x afab reader

desc: you always make decision with eren that are on a whim. whether it’s him taking you to get a tattoo or him filming you, it’s never a normal routine.

content warning: established relationship, tattoos, needles, petnames ( princess, baby, etc…), a little dry humping, filming, oral sex (male receiving), hair pulling, spit, one slap on da face, lmk if i’m missing any lol

an: y’all this a lil rusty but it’s okay i guess. i had to oil up this rusty ol machine, but i hope y’all enjoy. more plug eren and reader to come. even tho this really didn’t have anything to do with him being a plug. it’s just part of the series/ collections idk. take it as you will.

sometimes, you think about some decisions you’ve made and wonder how stupid they were. you’d lay there, dealing with the consequences of your actions and repeating what may have been the alternative route. all the what if’s that would’ve been your reality. however, now that you’ve made that decision, all you could do was think about such things. and at this very moment in time, you’re laying with a very permanent decision.

eren had said you’re a baby for whining. but he had plenty of tattoos in various places, so his word didn’t matter to you. you do suppose that this was your decision after all, so you sit with the pain with your eyes screwed shut. that is what you were repeating in your head as you fought through the last few minutes of your tattoo session.

a lotus flower. eren had once said you were his lotus flower. you had no idea what if meant, but it had stuck with you. he said that you were a beautiful lotus flower on a bright green lily pad, sitting on calm water. he’d say this to you once in a while. and on whim, you decided to get it tattooed on you tonight. right on your sternum.

what a bad decision, because you were in a lot a fucking pain.

“awe, my princess is a little weak.” eren teased, petting your head to calm you down. you opened your eyes, squinting from the bright tattoo studio lights and looked at him with annoyance. from where you were laying and where he was behind you, his big smile almost looked like a frown. you know eren all too well though, he’d never frown in your pain. more so smile in a peculiar pleasure.

the constant puncturing of the small needles in your skin had been a pain. along with the buzzing of the tattoo gun. your head began to throb, so you shut your eyes. eren noticed, seeing how your jaw clenched and the way you swallowed hard. and despite finding a freakish pleasure in your pain, his heart tinged with pain of his own. with that, he moved his fingers to your temples and started messaging them. instantly, you felt calm.

“you’ll be fine, (y/n).” he says low and smoothly.

“yea, because you done.” mikasa said excitedly as she turned off the machine.

you opened your eyes to be directly looking into erens. he smiled big, his canines peeking through. his hands then fall to the side and you’re already missing his touch.

the table you’ve now laid on for god knows how long begins to fuel your discomfort. you wiggle around a bit, lifting you hips to stretch. mikasa let’s you know to stay put as she cleans you up and applies the second skin to avoid any infections.

“you’re all done.” she exclaims with a big smile as she clasps her hands together in excitement.

upon those words, you sit up, zipping your sweater up just enough to leave some room to look at the lotus in the mirror. feeling somewhat lightheaded, you stumble a bit as you hop off the table. eren grabs a hold of your arm, saving you from a fall and hold you close to him. looking up at him, you smile as he leads you to the mirror.

standing in front of the mirror, you inspect the permanent flower on your body. mikasa captured you vision well, and you were so happy about it.

“you look beautiful, baby.” eren says, standing behind you. you smile to him in approval through the reflection of the mirror.

-

the candlelight flickered, soothing your heavy eyes to shut and fall to sleep. you’re tired, using eren chest as a pillow. you listened to his heartbeat and inhaled his scent. it soothed you even more.

then you do it again, inhaling louder. your stomach caves in from how deep you took in erens scent. holding your breath for a bit, you breathe out with a low hum.

“what are you doing?” he chuckles, looking down at where your head rested.

you shoot up, lifting yourself from your comfort, “i’m addicted to the way you smell.”

“you’re fucking insane.”

rolling your eyes, you sit up. unzipping your sweater to take a look at the new ink on your skin. you couldn’t stop looking at it. admiring it. showing it off every few minutes. you felt tough. this pain was nothing, you thought. you could get a ton of tattoos now.

“will you take a picture for me?” you say suddenly, looking at him with doe like eyes. maybe part of you knew eren wouldn’t want to due to the placement of the tattoo. but you’d thought it’d be different since you’ve been dating for a while, and he always took pictures of you.

he was your personal photographer after all.

eren squints his eyes at you, his tongue poking at his cheek, “why?”

“because i want to post it.”

“for who?”

your mouth drops, and you match his judging gaze, “for all the other men who want me besides you.” the attitude is apparent in your tone as you rolled your eyes dramatically.

“watch your tone.” he’s no longer squinting his eyes, his brows are now furrowed and he spoke with a slight irritation in his voice.

“for me. who else?” you poke his forehead, and eren shoos you hand away.

you catch onto his attitude, realizing he’s not playing around anymore. it wasn’t a joke to him. he was somewhat a bit upset at you. this always happened. eren is short tempered, but you’re patient for him. all you could roll your eyes, again, and move on with your night.

“fine,” you sit up, grabbing your phone off the side table by your bed. “i’ll take if myself-”

just as you were about to get off your bed, eren wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto him.

“hey,” you scramble a bit and get up, acting as if this wasn’t a normal occurrence with eren. but it was.

“don’t worry about it, baby. i’ll take them for you.” he grabs a hold to your phone in your hand, his other hand gripping to your waist and squeezing.

you frown at him, “i’m sorry. c’mon, let me take those picture for you.” he’s sitting up, resting his back again the headboard. you squeeze your thighs around him, trying not to tip over.

“you sure?”

“yes.” he said lowly, his eyes shifting from yours to your body. your cheeks heat up once he looks at you. no matter how long you’ve been with eren, you never stop to get nervous around him.

you feel his hands inch up and down, thumbs pressing circles into your stomach. he looks back into your eyes, and you blink like the flustered girl you were. he begins to unzip your sweater, covering you just enough so your chest wasn’t showing. eren pushes the sweater a little off your shoulders and you shift you hips a bit. you feel him harden below you.

with the phone still in hand, eren unlocks your phone to take a photo.

you straighten up, arch your back and lift your hips a little. click. he take the photo. resting back down into erens lap, you whimper as his hard on makes contact with your clit. he groans quietly, lifting his hips to hit that spot again.

“no, one more picture. i want a a lot to choose from.” your placing your hands on his stomach, pushing him into the bed and leaning forward. click.

“smile.” he laughs a little, watching you blush once again and snaps more pictures.

“take nice ones, eren.”

“i am, baby.” he shifts your phone to your face and you hear your phone ding, letting you know your being recorded.

“hey!” you whine, pushing the phone, “stop playing.”

“i’m getting impatient, princess.” he groans, eyes shifting to his hard cock. “you keep teasing me.”

erens tone gets a bit whiny. though, you should be slightly annoyed, you fun pleasure in this. the way his gaze on you is now hungry, but you’re in control. and the way he groans when you rub yourself on him and he’s thrusting up for more.

you’re stomach bubbled in anticipation. you wanted to keep going for your own pleasure, but something about seeing eren whine and beg for it excited you. you felt your cunt throb. this would be new.

dropping the sweater off your shoulders, you expose your tits to him, nipples hardening from the cool breeze of the night. he reaches out to squeeze your tit, grab his hand and place it back to your hip. the phone still in his hand recording.

“c’mon, princess. let me touch you.” he whines, lips quivering.

you smile, not saying a word but instead rocking your hips against eren. dragging your clothed cunt against his cock foward feverishly, and moving back slowly. you continue this for a while, fast then slow. teasing eren and yourself. letting out soft whimpers while doing so.

then, you stop. you lift your lips away from eren and all his pleasure is gone. he thrust his hips in the air trying to find satisfaction in that. but it’s useless.

looking at eren, you see he’s holding the phone to the sealing. reaching out, you adjust it just enough so you’d be in the view. you lower yourself on the bed, hooking your dainty fingers on the waist band of his pajama pants and pulling them down. as your free his cock, he groans as it slaps against his stomach. you shove two fingers in your mouth, letting spit drip down them to moisten his length. thick and long, his tip leaking precum. you spread your spit around the tip, wrapping your hands around him and stroking. with your free hand you, play with his balls.

“fuckin-”

eren is cut off as he feels your wet tongue drag along the length of his cock. you swirl your tongue on the tip before wrapping your plump lips around it, then he feels the warmth of you mouth take the entirety of his cock. slowly, teasingly, he feels you inch down to the base. your nose shoved up against him. you look at him and hallow your cheeks.

he looks down at you, and moans lewdly. teeth grinding, sucking in deep breaths, brows furrowed and cheeks blushing. the grip on your phone he has as tight, the white of his knuckles peeped through.

he huffed and frowned. your hair was covering your perfect face. with his free hand, he moved the hair out of your face, wrapping his hands enough to tug you back a bit. you let his cock slip out of your mouth, a sting of saliva connected you to him drips down your chin.

“don’t drop the goddamn phone.” you spat out, more salivia slipping past your mouth. you lick your lips and swallow hard.

god, you’re so fuckin’ messy.

“never, baby.” he rasps, tugging on your hair once again. you moan at that. it hurt so good that you felt slick drip from your cunt.

at that, you spit again on him, taking him back in your mouth. he hits the back of your throat and it stings, but it brings you bliss. shutting your eyes, you bob your head against him, sucking hard once you get to his tip. your fast, no longer teasing him. you had a goal and that was for him to spill inside you.

your hands moved at the same speed as your mouth. filled with your spit and his own precum, the slick just added to his pleasure. eren loved your messiness when you sucked his cock.

“so fucking good, princess.” eren says through his teeth.

you look at him, his hair dishealved and almost out of its tight little bun. he’s so close. his chest is rising and falling, and his breath is shaky. you only speed up noticing this, looking him in the eyes. taking him in fast, hallowing your cheeks harder and adding more pressure on tongue as you reach his cockhead.

“ah fuck-, fuck baby.” he thrusting his hips into you mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. you gag, but inhale deeply through your nose and continue to reach your goal.

and in seconds a thick, warmth fills your mouth. eren groans loudly thrusting his hips so you get every last drop of his cum in your mouth. that salty, thick liquid coats your mouth. you release his cock from your mouth, pursing your lips together and swallowing hard. he’s a mess, chest rising and falling. you and him are warn down, but you take it into you hands to clean him up.

you lick your spit off the length of his cock and take his tip in your mouth on last time. you suck hard, releasing it with a pop. eren looks at you with a lust filled gaze.

“let me see.” he’s referring to his cum. he wanted you to take it all. eren releases his hand from your hair and grips onto your chin. he squeezes your cheeks and moves the phone to record the inside of your mouth. you stick your tongue out to prove you swallowed it all.

“good fuckin’ girl.” he gives you a small smack on your cheek in approval.

“now show the camera your pretty little tattoo.”

you listen quickly, sitting up above eren. the bed squeaks from your quick movements. you feel the slick between your legs drip down your thighs. eren moved the camera back onto your chest, he’s running a hand up to your chest and squeezes your tit. you didn’t care if he was touching you now. his touch ignited something in you. it always did. either way, you broke him down just a bit. at least for today.

“that’s my slutty princess.”

[tobifuyu]

Shopping with the Haitani Ran goes wrong!

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

Ran thinks you're too cute to be dressing this badly. He takes you shopping, finally gives in to his own desires and touches you in the dressing room. Chaos ensues.

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial.

words count: 5,398

a/n: this is actually my first time writing smut, or anything at all, so bear with me. the one shot is part of a longer fic that I will start posting pretty soon, set in the Bonten timeline, I just wanted to put out something in the meantime, mostly as practice. english is not my first language! enjoy.

If you think shopping with a man such as Haitani Ran would be an enjoyment of sorts, well, you’d be wrong.

If your damnation could be encased in a day it would be today out of all of them.

Haitani Ran is already a handful as it is, put him in a store-filled street, already dressed to the nines and parading around like he owns the motherfucking moon and stars and what comes out is a big ass headache and a lot of self-deprecation.

In theory, the idea was not half bad. Ran knows a lot about this kind of stuff: fashion, styling, brands… at least more than you do, no matter how much you’d like to keep up. And the amount of money in his bank account is – well, still a mystery to you – you can only imagine a lot, considering what he is wearing and the place he’s dragging you to with a big hand wrapped around your wrist.

So in theory him helping you pick out a few pieces of clothing you could buy with your weekly allowance didn’t sound too bad. Considering how extravagant he and his brother are, you were expecting to head over to Harajuku, and maybe try to dig out something he could style for you from a cool vintage store.

You didn’t think he would bring you to a mall.

You don’t even think you’d be allowed in such a place, normally, not in the way you’re dressed anyway.

I mean, you did try your hardest to look somewhat presentable, knowing you’d be running around with the Haitani Ran, but with your laughable budget and a very confused sense of style, you look like Ran had just picked you up from the sidewalk like one of those lone puppies you’d see in a sad movie and brought you around to keep him company while squatting at his feet and wiggling your tail.

You’ve just always liked too many trendy styles, buying a few pieces here and there and leaving you with no basics and nothing to match them with, and so y ou look out of place, walking into a brand store practically hand in hand with one of the most handsome guys those judgy store clerks have probably ever seen, with a timeless and classy outfit that makes him look like he belongs there.

And most importantly, that he can afford it.

Maybe the only thing that makes up for it is his crazy two-toned braids. Doesn’t make him look nearly as bad as you, but at least you know how to use a toner.

He spends some time looking around the racks after shooing the shopping assistant who tried to approach the two of you away, and you trail behind him like – yeah, you guessed it – a lost puppy with eyes cast down, as if trying to disappear, maybe then they’d stop staring holes through your bland white cardigan that’s a little too big for your frame since you eyeballed its size and then found it too comfy to size down.

And that’s because you and fitting rooms just don’t click. You find the whole process a little too tiring, both mentally and physically.

Who enjoys spending that much time undressing yourself to wear clothes that have been worn by god knows how many others and have yet to see a washing machine, just to cry the moment you get them on because fast fashion sizes don’t fit people but want people to fit in them? Also having to recollect yourself and patch up your makeup while redressing as quickly as possible cause a line has already formed outside the door, you can hear them, and you can already feel their judging stares the moment you are gonna leave all the clothes you tried on with the clerk, nonetheless, cause everything looked like absolute shit on you–

Draining, that’s what it is.

But it’s dread that you feel creeping up on you while approaching the said fitting rooms with one of Ran’s arms now circling your waist, the other doing the most to hold up a bunch of clothes that you can barely make out but you know he has picked out, just for you.

“We can skip this part.”

You had tried reasoning, just to get hit with a “Skip this part my ass, there’s no buying clothes without trying them on. That’s how you end up with that cardigan. And I’m paying for this shit, so we’ll do as I say, princess.”

Ouch, what a little bitch.

Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling remorse, after he’s reminded you so kindly of why he’s decided to do this in the first place, knowing he wants to pull out his wallet to soothe his pretty eyes from having to see you dressed like a mess all the time.

But you’re better than this, so you decide you’ll only pick something you can afford.

He’s nothing to you but a new acquaintance, after all.

A means to an end, you like to remind yourself. You’re not using him, not a hundred percent at least, cause he’s getting your shining company in return. But yeah… you just need him to get to Manjirou. Nothing more. Nothing fun… you swear to yourself.

You’re doing Toman a favor, continuing Draken’s underground work now that he’s gone. You know Takemichi and sweet Chifuyu don’t add up to much when it comes to planning.

You’ve heard about Ran’s little fixation on you from the grapevine. His own brother had admitted to him relentlessly talking about you. And now, with Kantou Manji looming over the future of you all, you knew you had to get involved.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Ran’s lazy lavender eyes have had you in a chokehold from the very first time the two of you met, years ago.

He and Rindou wanting to fight you and your brother – only the latter, really – just to find out that you don’t back down from a challenge.

(From that day onward, if you were to ask Rindou, he would say that’s when his brother started talking about you.)

So you let him lock you in the fitting room, one of those cool ones with mirrors and lights all around you but, most importantly, a sturdy door.

One you know, in a store this expensive, no one will start knocking on if you take too long squeezing into one of those tiny dresses.

Not that it does anything to stop Ran once you’ve declared you’ve tried on the first one.

A pretty lilac piece, that would complement him and his eyes more – you mentally decide you’d like to see that – but you would look pretty (for once) standing at his side.

If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a tad too little on your frame, as expected, squeezing all the wrong places, skin spilling over and all that (you can’t possibly know he’s picked it a size or two too small on purpose).

Especially your cleavage, meaning this is all but a dress you could just wear to parade around the streets with a gang member. It would send the wrong message. And god knows what would happen if that message were to reach someone from Toman. A blond-haired guy in particular.

Shame on you.

But you can’t dwell on it too much, with Ran bursting through the door, then closing it behind his frame with all the nonchalance in the world, as if it isn’t quite scandalous the way you’re half clad and enclosed in a tight space with a man older than you (not by much, but still), in a luxury store, with clerks circling the both of you like hawks.

He approaches your body, and you can tell he’s making a decision his head while scrutinizing the dress, or rather you, from over your shoulder.

You’re facing forward and can feel the heat of his body approaching way before you feel his front touch your back, his hands momentarily settling at your hips.

They then move lower, trying to smooth the fabric of the dress as if it would make it fit better, and you feel a shiver run through your spine at the contact.

The tips of his fingers are cold where they brush your naked thighs, so you blame it on that.

“Looks perfect on you.” his warm breath hits your neck as he speaks with that low voice of his.

Focus, goddamnit.

“I hope you’re joking. I can barely breathe, and I think my ass might be hanging out.”

You can feel his body shake with giggles, and you know he’s trying to contain them for your sake, even though he’s never been the one to shy away from public shaming, especially when it comes to you. Sigh.

“Mh, I don’t know about that, but the front looks good.” His hands make a b-line for your waist, squeezing the fat there before moving upwards to rest a breath away from your tits. The dress is so tight you didn’t need to wear a bra with that. “Gosh, would you look at that? Fucking perfect.”

“Ran,” you warn him, you know he’s just teasing you again, or rather, testing you.

You meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you don’t want him to win one of the many little challenges he poses you with daily, so you hold his gaze, leaning the back of your head against his left shoulder.

He’s sure you’re the one tempting him at this point, deciding to play along in his little game that’s gonna ruin the both of you sooner or later, cause with that movement alone you’ve exposed your neck and cleavage like a white canvas, only his to paint.

“Fuck baby,” he groans and you feel yourself shivering once again, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you? Or maybe you do, you little vixen.”

You laugh, “Is that all it takes to bring down the Haitani Ran? A dress that’s a little too small?” you want to hit his ego back, at least, for the way he’s making you feel.

So exposed and vulnerable.

And little, which you’re very much not, but the way he’s encasing you with his bigger body is making you look ridiculously tiny.

“Paired with these tits and hips yeah, might just be the one thing that’s gonna put an end to the Haitani’s reign.”

It’s mesmerizing, his tone of voice, the deep baritone laced with a hint of teasing and sass that drips from his lips like honey straight to your pliant ears and reverberates through your even more pliant body.

One of his fingers creeps up to the neckline of the dress and drags over its seams with such a delicately that you wouldn’t even have caught it if you weren’t so busy trying to follow his every move and breath, leaving the haze of his purple eyes that split second enough to record the very movement.

“Ran, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You try to hide your smirk as you say that, knowing that is not gonna stop him but rather rile him up.

He smirks back, grabbing you by the chin with his free hand so he can turn your head to face him. “Since when have you become such a prude, uh?”

“I have always been, you’re the one trying to taint my innocence, remember?”

You’re not completely joking at this point, he’s been trying to get a reaction out of you since you’ve started hanging out more frequently.

He knows you shouldn’t, but he’s adamant in getting you to admit he can rile you up just as easily.

A dark set of lashes shade his lavender hues as he stares down at you, pondering over what to do next without scaring you too badly.

“Can I kiss you?” There he goes, he just couldn’t resist himself, could he?

You just look so good, dressed in something he picked for you, standing in this tiny space with him draped around you. He wants to eat you up.

“No.”

Ouch. That hurts. How could you say no to him? Look at me, he thinks, and as if you can read his twisted mind, you do just that.

He is so irresistible, with one of his long braids slipping past your shoulder, hair tickling your skin the same way his hand is still doing over the hem of the dress. Pink full lips shaped in a pout you think he’s sporting more to get pity out of you rather than because he cares. But you’re a woman of great self-control.

Or so you thought.

“Just– you can touch me. To fix the dress.”

You two are so close, practically glued to each other, it’s not the first time it’s happened but your body still reacts like it’s being shocked every time he touches you.

And Ran thinks it’s more than he thought you’d allow yourself to go, so he does just that, to fix the dress, that is.

It’s to fix the dress that he grasps the fullness of both your tits in his big palms, no need to use one hand to hold your face to him anymore as you instantly rotate towards his frame to hide your face in the curve of his neck, soft lips pushed against his pale skin to muffle the sighs that you’re letting out at his bold move.

He doesn’t hesitate to squeeze them, pushing them up to prop the fat against the hem of the dress as if to make it fit properly, or as properly as the set image he has in his head, which is everything but proper.

“Fuck, you have such pretty tits.” He’s groaning in your ear at this point, enjoying the way you’re letting him touch you a little too much if the way he starts rubbing against you from behind is of any indication.

You can’t help your body from trying to mold to his touch, back arching and pushing against the hands caressing you over the skimpy fabric of the dress.

One of them is heading lower, running over the hills of your torso and hip before grabbing onto the flesh of your right thigh. The other keeps teasing you with precision and reaches over the hem to pull it down and expose your skin to the cold of the fitting room.

A perked nipple is encased by his long fingers, nails scraping over the bud to tease a soft moan out of your mouth. You grab onto one of his braids, slightly pulling before blindly looking for the hair tie. It’s removed with swift hands that you then run along its length to free it from the twists, so you can bury a hand at the back of his nape, pulling him towards you – as if he could get any closer – scratching the skin there as payback.

“R-Ran” your body is starting to heat up, the cold air surrounding the two of you doing nothing to cool you down. “‘Need more, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” At that the hand that has been massaging the fat of your thigh creeps under the bottom of the infamous dress, making you unable to see his next move even from the reflation of the mirror.

But you can feel him skimming over your panties with his fingertips, pressing against the wet patch that has formed there.

“You got wet just from this? Must be really desperate, uh. ‘ve barely touched you.”

What a piece of shit, you think.

But your body likes this side of his, the degrading and teasing, and it especially likes the way the pad of his finger is now pressing against your clit, unexpectedly making you let out a moan that you didn’t think you’d be capable of. Always the quiet one.

“Shh, you wouldn’t want them to hear us, now, would you?” He’s rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves, touching it just right, just like you would, alone in your room (while thinking about him, probably), making it hard to think or even remotely feel shame. “Maybe you’d like that? Mh? Want them to know making you feel good, right, pretty girl?”

When you don’t care enough to answer he pinches your clit over the wet fabric of your underwear, the whimpering noise you let out like music to his ears.

You just really want to feel his skin on yours, but too shy to ask for it you decide to do the next best thing. With the hand that is not too busy pulling the back of his head, you reach between your legs and push the fabric of your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the air without a care in the world.

If desperation had a face, at this point, it would most definitely look like yours.

“Ah shit, pretty-“

“Touch me, Ran.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He finds your clit once again, not before running through the dripping folds and collecting the wetness with the pad of his fingers, just to rub it over your soft spot with careful precision.

His hand gives one final flick to your nipple before joining the other between your thighs, raising the lower hem of the dress to fully expose your wetness under the bright lights of the fitting room, just so he can take a good look in the reflection of the mirror.

You’re no saint, but also no one has ever touched you like this before, and the pleasure is pushing you to do things you probably would never even think of when the two of you are apart (but maybe you will, from this day forward).

That is why you reach down to grasp the wrist of his other hand, redirecting him to where you want to feel his touch, before slipping your fingers through his as if to show him what to do to you.

You feel his lips move against your ear before you register him talking, “Princess, you want my fingers? Hm?”

At that, you couldn’t nod faster, waiting for his touch to finally skim your opening, and once it does, you know he understands how much you need him, cause you see him raise his fingers as if to take a double look at the viscous liquid now wetting his skin. He rubs it over you then, spreading it on top of your clit to make his other hand work smoothly.

He stops right before he could slip in, making you whine in disagreement. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

All these pet names are new to you, he usually sticks to one a day, trying them out on his tongue before throwing the chosen one at you with the most annoying tone he could muster to, simply put, annoy the fuck out of you, as he does with pretty much everything else.

But the way he’s saying them now, between rushed breaths and a voice so strained that nearly makes you believe he’s the one being played with, does unspeakable things to you.

So you give in like you’ve learned to do with him lately. “R-rannie, please, want you… to touch me.”

“What do you need me to do, pretty? Speak up, use your big girl’s words.”

“Need your fingers. Inside me.” You feel like the air in the dressing room is thinning out, and you need to get this done as fast as possible.

That’s until his pointer slips past your hole. The moment his other fingers resume their rubbing over your bundle of nerves, while he’s opening you up, that’s when you actually start praying for time to stop.

Maybe if his hands were to leave your frame now you would crumble to the ground and die. That’s a new fear you have just unlocked because you don’t think you could ever go back to how life was before he made you feel what you’re feeling right now.

Alive.

Like every nerve ending is tingling and responding to the sweet sounds he’s making, or maybe the ones he’s pulling out of you. You don’t know what makes you more turned on, the effect you have on him, or the grip he has on you.

He starts moving his lone finger in and out, gently, testing out how far he can reach before you clench around him in pain.

He rubs over the ridges of your walls looking for something, trying out different patterns, and bumping against the outside of your hole with the palm of his hand to stimulate all of you once he slips completely inside, reaching as deep as his long digit permits.

At first, it doesn’t feel like much, you can tell he’s an expert but he’s just getting to know you. You think the feeling of fullness alone is enough to get a kick out of you, as long as he keeps massaging your clit in a, now, slower motion, as if he has nothing to rush about, not one care in the world. But it creeps up on you when you least expect it.

You thought he oversold himself with that oozing confidence that he sports 24/7, but as he starts laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck, running up its column, until he finds your sweet spot nested just below your ear and right by your clenching jaw, so does his finger.

“Fuuck. Oh my fucking god.” you heave.

Yeah, his lips are a godsend, but the way he’s bumping against that one spot inside of you with the tip of his digit just now is downright delicious.

He builds up a rhythm then. Fucking into you with more force and confidence, not forgetting to hit that patch of skin even for a single time.

“You like that, uh?” he asks like he doesn’t know, pressing his mouth against the underside of your jaw to drag his tongue along your salty skin, moaning at the taste. He asks as if you’re not clenching around his finger like your life depends on it, as if you want to capture it and hold him inside you to never feel empty again.

He realizes you need more, and he wants to give you his cock. Wants to stuff you full to the brim, cause he can feel how greedy your cunt is, so he knows you would eventually take him all inside, no matter how big.

You’re thinking the same, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you against the mirror that’s fogging up in front of you. You’re seeing the moon and the fucking stars with the tip of his finger alone. You wonder if his cock is big enough to kiss that little spot just right with his leaky tip.

He leaves you little to wonder, with the way his hips are bumping against you from behind. You can clearly make out the size of his length, now fully erected, as it rubs against your ass.

“Ran, fuck, I need more!”

And you both know that, but he also knows how ridiculously tight you are, how much he would have to open you up to take his cock, how he might need to spend hours with his head between your legs, fasting on your wet cunt just to make you loosen up. He’d do that gladly, but not now, in this fitting room.

So he just joins his pointer with his middle finger, carefully trying to fit in a second one through your squeezing muscles.

“No, Ran-“ you’re ready to beg, get on the ground on your knees, and plead him to have his way with you.

This is so not like you.

Or maybe it was, all along. You just needed someone to free you at last.

“You’re not ready to take my cock yet.” His tone is firm like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “I can barely fit two fingers in, pretty. You need to let me in, gonna make you cream around them, ‘kay?”

You swear the way he’s looking at you through the mirror alone is your undoing. You see his eyes running back and forth to your half-open ones, so you follow the gaze rolling over your exposed tits, heaving with your labored breaths, until reaching the apex of your thighs.

Two of his fingers are now plunging into your wet opening, the squelching sound being so loud to tint both of your cheeks red, and a ring of white collecting around the circumference of his digits, before dripping down your parted legs at the force of his thrusts. Your clit is still being rubbed raw, the intensity increasing with every passing minute, making you twitch in his firm grasp.

The whole picture is insanely erotic, something you haven’t even experienced in your fantasies yet.

It’s so intense that you feel your cheeks get wet from the unexpected tears now streaming down your face.

You’re a cryer, he’s elated.

You’re trying hard to muffle a scream, but Ran has you blocked in his grasp with both of his arms running over yours, so you have to turn and bite at the skin of his collarbone to do so, as you grip over his forearms, leaving behind the half-moon indentation of your nails.

He groans, letting his head lol back as you lick over the bruise; the skin has torn and you can taste the blood. As he speeds up the fingers that are massaging your clit, you realize that both of you might enjoy a little pain mixed with pleasure.

The overstimulation is so overbearing that you know you should’ve come long ago, but he’s taking you to such heights that you just can’t seem to let yourself go when alone in your bed you would have long given up and just taken a shitty orgasm as a win before retiring to sleep.

“Feel so- god, it’s so fucking good, Ran. Don’t stop, please please-“You don’t stop begging and he doesn’t stop thrusting, both his fingers and his hips behind your frame, chasing his orgasm against the plush of your ass.

He wants to pull his cock out of his pants and rub it against your skin. The dress has raised over the globes of your behind, he wishes he could just come all over it.

But he has no intention of ever slowing down his hands, not with the way you’re trembling against him, and not until you come, completely undone and fucked up from just two of his fingers.

You look so beautiful like this, with tears streaming down your reddening face, lips bitten, unfortunately not by him, and your cunt taking his fingers so well. Like the good girl he knows you are under all that sass.

He glances down at the scene one more time.

Your pussy is so pretty, glistening wet, he could finish right here and then.

He wants you to fucking come while screaming his name, no one else’s. He doesn’t care if they hear, he wants them to.

Ran wishes for more than just the clerks hearing you come undone for him.

At that thought something snaps inside of him.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Fucking tell me.” You snap out of the blubbering mess you’ve become, not because of the inexplicably angry tone of his request, but because he’s slowing down his movements and you were not expecting that.

Does he not know by now that you like his roughness? You need to come so badly.

“Please fuck don’t stop, please-“

“I said who’s making you feel this fucking good.” Ran doesn’t like to think he’s a jealous guy.

He’s The Haitani Ran, after all. There has never been any need for him to be.

But now that he has tasted heaven, here in this tiny dressing room with you, he doesn’t think he can stop.

He wants to make you his, and if that means he has to deprive you of your very first orgasm given by someone else so that you can come back running for more, so be it.

“You, Ran! Fuck it’s all you! You make me feel so go-” The slap that resonates in the small space it’s the thing that stops you from completing your praise.

Ran’s fingers have stopped moving inside of you completely, and his other hand has raised to slap your spasming cunt.

A scream of his name finally does rip out of your parted lips. There’s no way you could’ve avoided that.

And the new canting of your hips that are raising to chase a ruined orgasm is to little avail, you just don’t seem to reach the promised land.

Against all odds, Ran doesn’t resume touching you, even his hips are now resting firmly some inches away from yours, not even letting you feel him anymore.

He presses father light kisses from the column of your neck up to the side of your jaw, retracing the path he had run with languish before, until he can sweetly kiss your burning cheek as if to gently bring you down from the orgasm that never happened while he removes his fingers from inside of you, leaving you eerily empty.

“I- I didn’t come.” you’re still trembling at this point, but for a different reason. You think he might have mistaken any of your reactions for you reaching your long-awaited end.

You’ve heard some stories, you know some guys can’t even tell right from left when it comes to a woman's body.

But you’re wrong about him. “I know.”

More kisses are left on the side of your face, you’d think the gesture sweet if it weren’t for the ever-present grin you can feel against your skin.

“What- why?” the way you’re asking nearly breaks his heart, you sound so confused, broken. But that’s exactly what he needs, right? He needs to be the one to guide you.

“Because I’m not letting you come. You’re not my girl.” Your eyes are big like saucers, and you’ve turned your head to stare at him, he thinks this situation is so fun he could giggle.

“But I thought-“

“Just leave him, pretty girl. You’ve already forgotten about him, haven’t you? It was my name you were screaming, it was my cock you were begging for. Leave him, and come back crawling to me. Maybe then, I’ll think about letting you come.”

He takes some steps further away from you then, cold but still careful enough to make sure you won’t fall the moment he lets you on your own, bringing his soiled fingers up to his mouth. You watch in silence as he licks them clean. He’s making a show of it, engulfing the digits in his mouth and sucking around them as he moans. You’re so turned on you could die right there and then.

He then hits you with a “Fuck, you taste like heaven, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Before diving right back in, licking the skin one last time for safekeeping.

And now, you don’t know what’s worse: the cheshire grin stretching the pinkish of Ran’s lips while he’s downright degrading you after depriving you of an orgasm and, honestly, your self-respect;

Maybe it’s the fact that sweet Chifuyu’s face had only flashed behind your eyelids at his mention, after you’ve probably done one of the worst things you could ever do to him, or in your life, really;

… or the fact that you had to walk out of there, and wait for Ran to pay for the stained dress, cause he wouldn’t let you leave without making a scene. Knowing damn well that everyone in the shop had heard the two of you and is now looking with a mix of: reverence towards Ran, and hatred for you, by all women and men who rightfully wished to be in your stand.

At the end of the day, you were right. Fitting rooms would ever only leave you a crying mess, with clothes too little to fit; and shopping with Ran Haitani was hell made on earth.

At least you were convinced this was gonna be the last time you would ever accompany him – anywhere, really – or so you thought…

[findingnemosworld]

𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐦𝐞 ( 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 )

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 …

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐩*𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲.

( 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 )

rare were the moments in which he found himself in his hometown, free of any attachments in regards to football; it was within these very moments that he truly relished in the atmosphere surrounding him, especially when he got to share those moments with her, the once vibrant girl he'd grown up with had transformed into somewhat of a siren like entity he just couldn't seem to resist, he faintly recalls the times in which he denied ever feeling something beyond the realms of friendship; somehow, as if fate decided to mock him - he'd been harboring this secret for the past three years since the pair last saw one another.

he was in love, no, he was obsessed.

it'd gotten to a point where he swore he could feel her in the dead of the night, a sensation that left him all too flustered and aching to be with her, thus fueling his desire to end said torture during his current stay, he'd been fortunate to spend time with his family, old friends and now he wanted nothing more than to spend every waking moment with her resulting in quite the interesting suggestion.

" tennis? " she echoed his previous statement, a confused smile across her lips. " you want me to play tennis with you? "

the hungarian nods with a soft smile before murmuring softly. " yes, i feel like i haven't seen you in ages baba "

she looks away, recalling the cause of their sudden rift, one that she didn't want to remember yet a single sentence of him had opened the floodgates of memories, reminding her that she was the one to have caused the rift given her blossoming emotions for her best friend, " i know, but why tennis? " she wonders.

he shrugs nonchalantly, " why not baba? it'll be fun " he states with a soft smile before adding, " in fact, let's make it more interesting "

" what do you mean? " she asks with a confused tone.

" i'll teach you how to play " he said, his lips curled into a smirk. " we play every thursday and friday, what do you think? "

she grows silent, contemplating the offer presented to her before shrugging, " ok, i'll bite but ... if i end up hating it, you'll leave your crazy idea alone "

he laughs, " alright, deal but if you end up loving it ... " he trails off, leaning in, his gaze falling momentarily to her lips before it went back up to her eyes, " it'll be our thing "

" our thing? we didn't have a thing before? " she wonders with a teasing glint.

he lets out a soft hum, shaking his head before playfully speaking in a hushed tone. " i had football; you had dance classes baba, and don't get me wrong, nothing brings me joy than seeing you dance but i always wanted something to do which allowed us to spend time together "

" alright, i guess now i do " she giggles, then added. " i mean, what's the worst that can happen? "

it turns out, that a lot can happen.

she knew that it'd be risky, murky waters in fact; spending time with dominik in normal settings was one thing, spending time with him in a setting such as this was an entirely different thing - their first session happened on a rather hot day; as much as she tried to wiggle way out of it, he wouldn't budge, had even promised to treat her with ice cream afterwards yet in that moment, ice cream was the last thing on her mind, halfway through the session, dominik had the brilliant idea of discarding his shirt causing her to finish the session with prominent slickness coating her inner thighs.

dominik wasn't just a handsome guy.

dominik was a god; she knew that he knew it, it's what he thrived on, he thrived on achieving great highs in every aspect, his physique was no different.

suffice to say, she did not sleep at all that night thanks to dominik and his need to be perfect, the following sessions did not differ, except as they rolled around she'd begun to notice his less than subtle manner of finding any and all excuses to touch her, be it showing her the proper manner of holding a bat, to helping her practice her swinging, each touch from him had planted a seed of desire watered by the insistent need to be around him every single day.

the tensions were rising, it was quite evident; their mothers had even joked about it during a joint dinner, claiming that the pair seemingly had found 'their way back to one another' this time, unlike the ones before, she did not deny, rather embraced the sensation, claiming that even if he didn't feel the same way, her fantasies had kept her company, little did she know of what was coming ahead ...

that night, she'd showered; situated herself on her couch to watch a movie, with a blanket wrapped around her snuggly. ultimately, she found herself barely paying attention to the film displayed, instead her mind traveling to quite an unholy territory thus resulting in a flutter to form in her lower abdomen, she bites her lower lip, silently chasing the images woven by her mind to no avail.

" fuck it " she mutters under her breath, removing the blanket to adjust her position on the couch, leaning back to spread her legs and push her panties to the side to tease her swollen pussy walls. " oh " she gasps.

every nerve of her body was set ablaze, the gentle touches were sending shockwaves across her body. " oh god " she whispers, further teasing her walls before her thumb began to rub her clit in a circular motion, further intensifying the pressure, " fuck " she whimpers.

her eyes were shut, brows knit in pure pleasure. " fuck, dominik " the moment his name escapes her lips, that was it; she'd slipped one digit into her walls, moaning quietly. " fuck, just like that ... fuck " she whined.

one digit soon became two; two had become three and before she could even make sense of things, her arousal coated all of her fingers as well as her thighs, she stills for a moment in order to catch her breath when all of a sudden, she hears the doorbell ring causing her eyes to widen, who could it be? ... she wonders as she hastily arranges the living room area; adjusts her appearance then walks towards the front door, she looks through the peephole; it seems that fate wanted to mock her as on the other side, he stood.

she catches her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes dazed from what she had done just now - realizing there was no way out, she tentatively opens the door, offering dominik a soft smile. " hey "

" hi baba " he beams, his face suddenly shifts into clear confusion. " i ... are you ok? "

she looks away then nods, " mhm " she steps aside to let him in then shuts the door behind him, " i thought you said you were going to spend time with the boys "

" they cancelled, so i figured spending the night with you wouldn't hurt " he responds, noting the messy blanket on the couch and the muted tv still on, he turns around to face her and ask. " were you asleep? "

" oh -um- ... " she begins, unsure of how to formulate her lie. " i was watching tv " she says meekly.

" just watching tv? " he echoed, his gaze traveling to her legs then back up to her eyes, " or something else? " her flaming cheeks prompted him to grin and walk up to her to lessen the distance between them. " your cheeks are flushed! " he exclaimed, a singular digit trails across the apple of her cheeks, " your lips are pink and ... " he whispers, " you have this look in your eyes, the kind of look one gets when they've made a fucking mess "

she avoided looking at him, prompting him to hook his digit under her chin to get her to look at him; that's when, she noted how his pupils had dilated significantly, showcasing that he too felt the exact same desire. " dominik " she said with a hushed tone.

he groans in response, his cheek rests idly against hers. " baba " he whispers in her ear, placing a featherlight kiss behind it eliciting a soft moan from her, " you have no idea how long i have been holding this in, how many nights i spent awake, wishing that my hand was your hand wrapped around my cock, wishing i could kiss you at all times, wishing that i would get a taste of you; now, i am done holding back, i need you baba, i need you so badly "

his words were all the affirmation she needed to throw caution out the wind, she cradled his face in her hands, pressing her lips entirely over his in an act of pure longing and desire, the mere flame between them grew so warm that he physically had to pull back in order to catch his breath, he rests his forehead over hers, one hand resting on the side of her neck while his other hand slip under t-shirt, caressing and kneading the soft flesh of her ass. " baba " he murmurs, pecking her lips. " this is the part where you tell me to stop, because i ... if i start, i won't stop "

she pressed her lips over his entirely, " i won't stop you " she whispers.

they stumble towards her bedroom, articles of clothing flying left and right as they freed themselves of the constraints; he placed her down once they entered her bedroom, he placed her down and lead her to the full length mirror, he stood behind her, his chest directly on her back, one hand caressed her waist whilst the other rests idly above her the valley of her breasts, his lips peppering soft kisses along the curvature of her neck, " tell me baba " he whispers against her skin, peppering feather light kisses. " were you touching yourself? "

she nods wordlessly and in turn yelps upon feeling a sharp sting against her slick pussy.

" use your words baba, want to hear you say it " he whispers hoarsely. " tell me, were you touching yourself? "

" yes " she sighs, inhaling a sharp breath upon feeling his thumb against her clit rubbing in circular motions. " yes, i was ... "

" why didn't you tell me then hm? " he asks with a mocking tone, pressing a kiss on the back of her neck, " why didn't you tell me that this slick and warm pussy needed to be taken care of? "

" i ... i don't - oh fuck " she whined the moment he plunged one digit inside of her walls. " fuck " she whispered.

" i knew it " he said, a deep groan soon erupting, " i knew this pussy would be tight, so warm and inviting, jesus baba, a puncidban akarok lenni, édesem "

" please " she whispers, inhaling another sharp breath upon feeling another digit diving into her walls, both digits curling in and out of her pussy. " fuck, dominik ... just like that, just like that "

" how did we waste so much time huh? you were always right there and i was too stupid to see it, it's always been you baba " he grunts, thrusting his digits at a rapid pace to match his thumb rubbing her clit. " it's always been you " he murmurs against her shoulder, alternating between kisses and gentle bites. " tell me baba, when was the last time someone fucked you senseless? "

" far too long " she half moans half whines, tilting her head; granting him further space to explore, " you're doing so good domi, so good "

he smirks, sinking his teeth over shoulder before muttering, " you're sucking my fingers so well, makes me wonder how you'll suck my cock into this inviting pussy "

the statement elicited a whine from her, spurring him on to continue stimulating her at an even higher pace up until a loud borderline obscene cry escapes her lips followed by his two digits becoming coated with remnants of her arousal, he swiftly pulls them out to lick them clean while he looked at her, " so fucking delicious " he whispers.

" domi " she murmurs, " please ... " she leans in, " fuck me like you mean it "

he smiles, " you don't need to tell me twice "

he leads her towards the bed, her back hits the mattress while he caged her between his arms, the chill sensation of his chain colliding with her warm skin elicited a moan from her which in turn made her smile, " sit up baba "

she tilts her head in confusion, " why? "

he playfully bites her lip and murmurs, " just sit up "

she grins then sits up, watching as he removed the chain around his neck, placing it around hers, her digits touch the skull before looking back up at him, he subconsciously licked his lips then closed the distance between them, " you look so fucking sexy with the chain on baba " he whispers, hoisting her up so that she'd sit on his lap, " want to see it bounce with those gorgeous tits while you ride me, think you can do that baba? think you can ride my cock? "

she nods, a bit too eagerly eliciting a chuckle from him; just then her expression shifts into faux innocence as she says, " but i might need a ... a little guidance, think you can give me a hands on private lesson? "

a hearty laugh escapes his lips; he pulls her into a soft kiss before muttering, " by all means, sit up baba "

he uses his free hand to stroke his hardened cock, aligning it with her pussy; the pair share a unanimous gasp, " fuck, dominik " she hissed, " you're big "

he smirks, tugging her in by using his chain, he pecks her lips then says through labored breaths. " you can handle it édes lány, i know you can "

she nods, biting down on her lip before she set a moderate pace - moving up and down, their hips colliding with each thrust, " domi, your cock ... " she whines, her eyes shut. " feels so good "

" yeah " he cooed, one hand gently caressing the apples of her cheeks. " you like how my cock is buried deep hm? you like feeling full don't you? "

" fuck, feels so nice" she moans, upping the pace of her thrusts. " i .. oh my, fuck!! "

dominik laid his head back, observing her through heavy lidded eyes, his hands gripping her waist each time she thrusted harder. " bounce on my cock, keep bouncing, you're doing such a good job baba " he grips her waist, tugging her in to kiss him. " such a good girl "

the praise sent shockwaves straight to her pussy eliciting a moan from her, " dominik " she whined.

" i know baba, i know " he cooed in her ear, followed by soft kisses on her neck, " i can feel it, you're squeezing my cock " he groans.

" i am going to cum dominik " she moans, " fuck " she gasps.

he tugs her in, one hand rests over her breasts, squeezing and kneading the flesh while their tongues engaged in a heated battle spurred by the muffled moans and groans emitting from the two of them, " come on baba, cum for me "

the knot in her lower abdomen explodes followed by another loud cry, " fuck ... fuck, that's it, that's it " she mutters.

" baba, i need those gorgeous lips around my cock, think you can do that for me? " he whispers.

she sits up then crawls between his legs, wrapping her hand around the sensitive skin eliciting a groan from him, he pushed his head back then reached over to thread his digits through her hair, " such a good girl, keep going ... "

she started off slow before swiftly picking up the pace eliciting another deep groan from him, his chest rising and falling rapidly to match the rhythmic pace of her bopping her head up and down, " i don't think i can take much longer, oh yes, just like that "

with a few last strokes, he thrusts his hips up, his cock twitching inside of her mouth, releasing a loud groan. " fuck baba, fuck!! "

mere minutes in she pulls back, a trail of spit connecting her lips to the tip of his cock. " what a session? " she giggles.

he laughs wholeheartedly, " what a session indeed? " he tugs her back up, her body lying entirely over his. " i hope you know what this means? "

she smiles, " what? "

" you're mine now! " he exclaims, pressing a possessive kiss to her lips.

" no where else i'd rather be " she smirks.

[bonny-kookoo]

Hi Bonny! I don't know if you're still doing stuff for this story (feel free to ignore if you aren't) but I couldn't help but wonder how Lacrymaria Olor!(I pray that I spelt that right) JK would react to MC getting her period for the first time. Especially after seeing his little freak out when we almost got kidnapped. Anyways, have a good day/afternoon/evening/night!

Nop, that was actually never asked- so here you go! Set very close before the happenings of Part 3, just for a clearer timeline haha

Some things about you have pretty much gone unnoticed before Jungkook truly began showing more intimate interest in you. From quirks and habits, to more unique things that set yours and his kind apart- and you tend to forget that some things he's never witnessed.

Before, you'd sleep in a room just for you- and you'd be cared for by maids he'd apparently hired just for the purpose of making sure you wouldn't have to worry about anything. They'd tend to any request you might have, and apparently even had to learn about some human anatomy simply to be able to be prepared for anything that might happen.

Things like.. well, your period.

And every month, it would be fine- so much so that you got used to using the cloth-like material in a way similar to how you'd use pads bad on earth. It became normal again, in a way. His palace became.. somewhat home.

You're woken up in the middle of the night, a clearly distressed Jungkook leaning above you, eyes wide open, scanning your body it seems like. "What- what's going on?" You mumble half asleep, now sitting up as well before you cringe at the cramping of your lower stomach.

And when you look down, you notice it.

"I've already called for Namjoon. Don't worry- we'll fix it." He promises, holding your hands, while you laugh a bit under your breath.

"I- Jungkook I'm fine." You tell him, and he shakes his head.

"You don't have to act tough right now-" He softly argues, and you shake your head again, carefully trying to sit up and wiggle out of bed. "Don't stand-"

"Jungkook, this is normal- let me clean up please." You giggle, squeezing past his arms and into the bathroom, where you do just that- finishing your business only a few minutes later, emerging out of the bathroom again just to run into Jungkook's chest. "oh-"

"What's happening to you?" He asks, now a lot more serious.

"I'm.. menstruating?" You raise your brows a bit, testing if he knows what that word means- but his face tells you he clearly doesn't- but Namjoon clears his throat in the doorway now, similarly amused over his friend's and king's distress.

"Her body is preparing for pregnancy." He bluntly states, giving you some hygiene necessities you take with a thankful nod, slipping back into the bathroom to fix yourself up. "Humans bleed during that time, and shed some of the lining of their internal reproductive organs." He explains, while Jungkook looks absolutely horrified as he watches the maids silently change the bedsheets.

"Will she be okay?" He asks, worry clear in his tone. "What does she need to regain her blood?" He instantly wants to know, and Namjoon laughs.

"Jungkook, I just wanna sleep.." You say, leaning against him, and he instantly holds you close, delicately as if you're a wounded pet on it's last breath.

"She'll have some cramps and will probably be a bit less active than you're used to. But she's fine, just like she said. She knows her body best. If anything is out of the ordinary for her, I am sure she will let us know." Namjoon says, and you nod.

And so Jungkook, albeit reluctantly, gets back to bed with you-

and holds you just a little tighter tonight, just to be safe.

[aerodaltonimperial]

(@acid--jackpot prompted me for JungleCorpse, and while I got SLIGHTLY away from the original prompt, we are going to ignore that; 1.3k of tooth-rotting fluff I fully expect to be defriended for feat. potato dogs, LOVE YOUUUUU 💚)

Darby wakes to the sunlight just beginning to stream through the windows. That tends to happen when he’s home, with the east-facing windows in the master bedroom, and he never much minds it, since it’s generally the time the dogs get restless, anyway. Normally, half of the little blanket thieves are on the bed with him, snorting into the fitted sheet, but today is different. Today, Darby wakes up with one arm slung over a rumpled t-shirt, their bodies slotted together during the night like a quotation mark.

The rumbled breathing pressing back against Darby’s chest is still rhythmic and deep, so he extracts himself slowly, trying not to jostle the mattress as best he can. Padding out into the family room, he finds three members of the gang already up and waiting for him, butts wiggling as their tails wag.

“C’mon,” he tells them, voice low as the little click-click of their nails taps across the kitchen tiles. He opens the door to let them out and leaves the glass ajar while he starts up the coffee. Could have gotten it ready last night, but hadn’t known he’d have company until it was the last thing on his mind, and ain’t that something. Darby can’t remember the last time he had someone else wake up in his bed here. Normally the only people who stay over are his buddies, who either take the guest room or drape themselves over the couch cushions like heathens.

It’s strange, knowing someone else is still sleeping just past the kitchen wall. Darby pauses with his palms propped up on the counter, listening to the coffee machine gurgle and bubble; strange, because the thing is, it’s not. Maybe it was only a matter of time before this thing they were doing—this unnamed tangle they’ve both continued to return to long after the point they could reasonably still refer to it as casual—bled over into Darby’s life outside the filming schedule.

Here, in his house filled with the constant pitter-patter of pug footsteps, the whole thing swells a great deal more real.

Two of the dogs slip back in as he’s refilling their food bowls, and the last one is probably out rolling around in the dirt, so Darby doesn’t worry much, save for the eventual state of his floors. He’s gonna have to track down the last two, and he’s pretty sure he knows where they are. He heads back through the master door, brushes his teeth in the bathroom, and sure enough, both lumps are easy to spot as he slides back onto the bed and the mound of blankets.

Darby re-settles, curving back behind Jack’s warmth again, and this time, Jack stirs. Darby can feel his muscles jump slightly when the man’s eyes open and one arm stretches out long across the mattress. Then he twists in Darby’s hold, peering at him somewhat blearily.

“Didn’t know where you were, did you?” Darby asks.

Jack’s smile is sleepy, but wide. “Took me a minute.” He yawns a little, and Lemons pops her head up, snorting. Her little snout wavers back and forth. Jack blinks at her face, and then his gaze shifts back to Darby’s. “Your potatoes demand a lot of space in the bed.”

“Yeah, they do that,” Darby hums, agreement. He props his head up on his palm, elbow squishing the pillow down. “They’re not used to having anyone but me in here.”

“They came in anyway.”

That’s a twist in Darby’s chest, warm and languid, decidedly pleased. “They like you.”

And Jack’s smile grows more pronounced, more defined. “Do they?”

“Guess we all do,” Darby murmurs, reaching forward with his free hand to brush an errant curl away from Jack’s face. Something glimmers on the other’s expression: a comment just bitten back about how Darby and his family of dogs might be the only ones, maybe, and Darby is glad Jack manages to keep it down. He doesn’t want that sounding in the bedroom, where the early sunlight glows yellow. That shit ain’t got no place here, where he wants Jack to be at home.

Darby curves his hand around Jack’s cheek, as though he can head off the worst of the thoughts before they even wiggle into Jack’s mind. He’s never given a shit as to what anyone else thinks, and he sure isn’t gonna start caring now. “I made coffee.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks. If he’s going to say any more, it’s cut off when Darby leans in to press their mouths together—unhurried, unrushed. They’ve got all day here, with just the pugs for company. Here, removed from the backstage drama and the feuds and the need to prove themselves that always seems to hang over their heads, Jack is soft, and oh, Darby’s fucking obsessed with it. Without the posturing and the attitude, Jack unfolds beneath him so easily, so readily, like the rest of that shit doesn’t even exist anymore.

And then Jack pulls away, pressing his hand against his mouth. His eyes are rueful. “At least let me brush my teeth first,” he mumbles into his palm.

Darby laughs. “Sure. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

He’s pulling mugs out of the cabinet when Jack finds his way in, feet bare and joggers slung low across his hips. He’s delightfully rumpled, and intoxicatingly unassuming, endearing in a way that tugs at Darby’s heart strings. Jack wrinkles his face when Darby hands him the cup of steaming coffee, and then his expression smooths after Darby pulls the milk out of the fridge.

“It’s nice,” Jack says, with a nod towards the sink and cabinets. “Your place. I didn’t see much when we came in last night.”

“You didn’t give me much of a heads-up before you were at baggage claim,” Darby replies, because that’s true: the place had been pitch black when they’d gotten in at midnight. “That was quite a surprise.”

Jack’s tongue darts out, pressing into the corner of his mouth. “I, ah… yeah. I didn’t really know if just showing up was allowed or not.”

“It is,” Darby tells him, and means it. He takes a sip of coffee. “Why’d you come?”

“Uh,” Jack starts, a bit of a grimace. “I guess I just wanted something good.”

Darby can read between the lines on that one, knows what the hedge means—more delays from the higher-ups at the company, more dismissals in the wake of everything, more time for Jack spent not in the ring where he wants to be. He also knows better than to pry, because Jack will talk when he’s ready and not a moment before. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Darby nods. “I’m glad.”

It’s worth watching relief bloom across Jack’s features. “Yeah?”

Darby crosses the kitchen to loop his arm around Jack’s shoulders, tug the man closer in. He gets a faceful of Jack’s curls when he presses his chin into the groove of his neck. “You can always come here, Jack,” he murmurs. “You can always be here.”

“Darby,” Jack exhales, a full-body shudder. He’s such a gnarly thread, this one: a viper backstage hissing at everyone who dares to approach, an asshole veneer desperate to cover all the still-bleeding wounds beneath. He’s so fucking complicated, and Darby’s never felt an urge like this to curl around anyone, to spread his fingers wide in an attempt to catch the next knife in.

Jack’s fingers linger on Darby’s hip bone, pressing against the ridge. Darby drops a kiss against the juncture below Jack’s ear, the patch of overly sensitive skin that always drives him nuts. This is crazy, the two of them; it’s crazy, and it probably shouldn’t work, but here they are. Darby could choke on how fucking much he cares.

“How long are you staying?” Darby asks.

“How long can I stay?”

Forever, Darby thinks, but replies, “As long as you want to,” and maybe Jack hears the truth anyway, because he shifts in closer, as though Darby’s kitchen littered with muddy paw prints is the only place in the world he can lower his guard, a safe haven from all the bullshit licking at his heels.

[honeylikewords]

bedrest (jack russell)

jack’s wife feels a little under the weather. (pregnancy arc!)

(warnings: sickness, very brief mentions of nausea and vomiting, mentions of food, and, obviously, indications towards pregnancy! just a short little fic about how cute jack is when he’s playing nurse; word count: 2.5k)

It starts with a heavy feeling around her temples. Her shoulders sit sorely, and the ache spreads all the way down to the small of her back. There’s a pressure behind her eyes. The core of her throat becomes sticky and swallowing suddenly is something she has to think about doing, and doing it sends sharp prickles radiating through her neck. 

Now, hovering over the kettle as it rumbles to a boil, she can feel her head becoming foggy, growing faded; trying to have a clear, linear thought feels exactly the same as trying to run in a dream. A torpidity descends, and her attempts to lift the kettle and pour it into her mug are frail to say the least.

This kind of grogginess usually fades in the first hour of being awake, for her, even with the emergence of a somewhat regular nausea that she attributes to her recent attempts to quit caffeine. It also isn’t often accompanied by the other strains; this feeling has been lingering since late last night, and has carried over into the current noon. She’s trying not to let it worry her, but she has a worm of worry nibbling at her, telling her things are about to get a lot worse.

Her splashed tea sits on the countertop brewing as Jack comes into the kitchen, holding a pile of books and gesturing at them with all the excitement of a cartoon dog. He’d been fiddling around in the garage for the better part of the morning, having gone out before she even woke; the telltale sounds of boxes sliding and falling over one another (followed by his swearing) filtering back into the house had given him away. Now, he emerges, triumphant. 

The grin he greets her with is unavoidably adorable-- the crook of his snaggletooth lends his smiles an eternal air of childlike glee, and it still turns her belly with butterflies, even after all this time-- and she tries to return it as he rounds furniture between them to come plop the stack next to her.

“I found the moving box our biographies ended up in,” he chirps, holding up one with a picture of Che Guevara’s face on it and wiggling it tantilizingly. “I can show you the part where--”

Jack slows himself, plainly noticing something off in the atmosphere. At times, it can be disturbing how perceptive he is; always her trusting, bouncy Puppy, she forgets that Jack is an old, experienced soul, and is keenly attuned to senses she couldn’t imagine possessing. Keeping secrets from him has never been an option, and whatever obliviousness he plays at melts away immediately, replaced by the his clear and instinctive observational nature. She’s being reminded of that nature, now.

His voice trails off, movement stilled, as he sets the book atop the pile on the counter and she feels an uncomfortable gnarl rise up in her tummy at the thought that Jack is somehow disquieted, off-put. She wants him to keep rambling about Cuban political history, even if she’s hardly in the headspace to digest it; she wants things to be normal, for nothing to be wrong. 

She puts on an expression she thinks is close to reassuring, and turns to see that he’s scrutinizing her, green eyes coasting up and down, but lingering primarily around her face. Embarrassment flushes over her features as she tries to look away, somehow admonished, back towards her likely overbrewed mug when she feels Jack’s wide fingers gently slip under her chin.

“Look at me for a second, honey.” 

His words ring soft; whenever he drops his voice into a low whisper like this, his accent becomes stronger, taking on a breathy quality that makes it stand out. His consonants mellow more, and there’s a languidity to his long, warm vowels, melting her resolve as he guides her chin, half with his voice and half with his hands.

He tilts her face back towards his, ever-so-lightly, and allows his thumb to brush her chin in a soothing arc when their eyes meet again. Now that she's facing him, she can see Jack's brows drawn in focus, his gaze studying every inch of her; his full upper lip parts from his lower one as he blows out a concerned breath, and she watches him as he guides her chin up with one hand and trails his fingers down along the tense sides of her neck. 

"Your throat is swollen," he mumbles, gaze not breaking from her neck. "And here… how does this feel?"

He puts two warm digits against the pulse point below her left ear and presses, ever so lightly; she pulls a sour expression at the sudden awareness that there is pain underneath. Jack tuts something she can’t quite make out and apologetically rubs the breadth of his palm against her collarbones, sweeping from side to side and warming her clammy skin.

“That’s your lymph node, mi amor. ‘S not so bad, in terms of the swelling, but it’s not good, either…” 

Turning over his hand, Jack presses the backside to her forehead and squints, trying to take her temperature. After a few fruitless attempts, he wrinkles his nose in frustration and puts his hands on her shoulders, squeezing together softly. She likes the pressure and the affection, but can’t help the twinge of pain that shoots across her face when she feels her sore muscles clench, and Jack notices.

“Oh, lo siento, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“You’re fine, Jack,” she manages, noting with no small share of resentment that her voice hurts to use. “I just have a knot in my shoulder or something.”

“You need to get to bed,” he says firmly, coming to her side and putting one hand on the small of her back and using the other to lift her hand, interlocking their fingers so he can guide her as he starts walking. 

“I don’t need to-- I have tea, hon-- I’m really okay, I swear--”

All her fruitless attempts to babble something convincing are met with a stern glance from Jack, who continues walking up towards the stairs that will lead to their bedroom. She’s hardly putting up that much of a fight, all things considered-- she’d walked with him this far, and she’s letting him coax her up the first few steps, with his wide palm resting just above her hipbone and pushing lightly-- and her glances back towards the puddle of tea around her mug don’t dissuade him from his pursuit.

“You don’t need to be up,” he counters, effortlessly steering her up the curve in the staircase with all the genteel grace of a ballroom dancer, “And I’ll bring your tea. Or, actually, I’ll make you something else; that batch didn’t smell so good.”

She shoots him a pointed look, and Jack merely smiles entreatingly as he sweeps her up the last few steps and towards their bedroom door, left slightly ajar. His hands haven’t left her, and he strokes his fingers up and down the notches between her knuckles, smoothing over the skin there as he tips the door open with his shoe and he tugs her into the room.

Their spacious bed does look inviting. She’d forgotten to re-align the pillows and comforter this morning in her sluggishness, but somehow the rumpledness draws her further still, and Jack can see her strength of will ebbing. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth and he leans over, kissing her cheek.

“I want you to rest,” he says. “I’m worried, amorcita.”

“It’s not that… bad… didn’t you say so yourself?”

“The swelling,” Jack corrects, tugging her closer to the bed and lifting his one hand from her hip to pull the pillows from his side of the bed so that her stack will be taller. “I said the swelling wasn’t so bad. But, and I, uh, I don’t mean to be rude when I say this, mi hermosa, but, um…”

Setting her lips in a thin line, she glowers at Jack, who gives her a hangdog smile and gestures for her to sit on the edge of the bed. Obliging him, she does.

“You don’t look so well… Um, I mean, you are so, so beautiful, as always,” he stammers, fluffing the pillows in his discomfort, “But, you know, drained? It’s kinda dark around--”

He touches her face and traces the hollow under her eye with the pad of his thumb, giving her a sympathetic frown. She sighs; she’d known she looked a little worse for wear this morning, but was hoping it wasn’t terribly obvious. Yet another embarrassing reality she can’t hide from Jack, she supposes. But, still, Jack shows no signs of being embarrassed, himself, by her situation: instead, he hovers, as attentive as ever, as affectionate as usual. It remains a resolute comfort to her.

One tan hand lays itself on her shoulder and tenderly guides her into a prostrate position on the pillows, her head elevated as Jack bends down and lifts her legs into the bed. She could have done it herself-- she’s not that incapacitated-- but he seems intent, and watching him tend to her is a sight in and of itself. Once her legs are situated on the bed, Jack covers her in the comforter and strokes up the length of her side, fingers tracing the outermost edge of her over the blanket and coming to rest under her chin, where he again guides her into looking at him.

“I’m going to go make you something to drink,” he instructs, voice again low, “And something to eat. And then you’re going to sleep.”

His tone broaches no argument, but there’s a glint in his eyes; Jack’s a born caregiver, always looking for the chance to help, to support, to uplift. She wonders if, on some level, he likes when she’s sick so he can more openly dote on her, or if, maybe, her dizzy mind has spun off in some obtuse direction. Whatever the case, the reality of Jack’s lips on her forehead sets in, and she sighs contentedly at his touch.

“I’ll be right back, bebé,” Jack mumbles into her hairline. “You be good for me and stay here, yes?”

Some kind of agreeing hum issues out of her as she eases herself back against the pillows; she does have to admit, it feels good. As sore and taut as her body is, and as irritating as swallowing and breathing has become, it feels good to be here, in her bed, with her husband taking such measures to ensure her wellbeing. Knowing he cares, and cares enough to actually do something to improve her situation, however minimally, is itself a kind of balm to her wounds, and she lets her eyes close as Jack pulls back, trying to relax.

“My sweet girl,” he purrs. “Stay right there.”

She has no plans to move, really, but the praise is nice.

Jack ekes open the bedroom door, trying to support the tray in his hands while guiding the door with his hip; it’s hard to balance a full bowl of pozole and a mug of tea, surprisingly, as the liquid always wants to travel. Somehow, he manages, and quietly enters, smiling to himself as he’s met with a familiar sight.

His wife, prone in the bed, hair messy and limbs curled in on one another, deeply asleep. She’s buried into one of his pillows, and heavy, exhausted breaths slowly fill and escape her lungs as she burrows in, slightly, unconsciously. He wonders if she can smell him on the sheets the way he can smell her, and hopes that she can; her scent brings him endless comfort, and he wishes for her to feel that same comfort, especially now, in a time of need.

He sets the tray on the bedside table, clearing aside her accoutrements-- a few loose hair ties, a paperback, an off-schedule weekly caddy for vitamins-- and sits beside her on the bed, stroking the hairs that have stuck to the sides of her face.

She’s remarkably beautiful, in his estimation, even when crashed asleep and, yes, drooling into his pillow. There’s something eternally enticing to him, some quality that he lacks the poeticism and deft to describe. Decades of digesting art and he still finds himself at a loss for words, entrapped by the magnitude of his love. What can he say that she does not embody, herself?

Jack’s fingers brush against her cheeks, and she feels markedly hot: he’ll remember to bring in cooling pads and fresh water. He lifts one corner of the blanket to try and let some air in to hopefully stablize her temperature, somewhat, and as he does, he sees her belly, exposed from beneath her shirt.

He reaches in and settles his hand flat atop it, watching his broad palm cover her skin as it rises and falls with her breathing. In and out, up and down, Jack slowly curls and unfurls his fingers in time with her inhales and exhales, pulling his fingers in as she draws in a breath and splaying them out as she lets it go. He sits in absolute stillness as he practices, revelling in the sensation of her soft skin under his fingertips, the tiny brush of her itty bitty peach-fuzz hairs around her navel. 

Distantly, when he breathes in, Jack can detect the tang of her stomach acid in the bathroom, and knows she must have gotten sick again this morning when she woke up. He tries not to let the thought run wild through his head and send him reeling, but he can’t deny the inkling of hope that’s growing ever more steadily inside himself.

All those articles and books he’s read over the years have indicated that this is very common-- a decreased immune system as her body devotes its energy towards a new kind of growth-- and that she would feel nauseous, tired, and even feverish in the very early stages. If, indeed, that is what these symptoms indicate; he tries again, in certain vain, to steer himself off the path of foregone conclusions. He has to be more patient, he tells himself, even as he strokes her belly and allows himself to imagine it rounder, firmer, higher.

Jack also allows himself to push the sheets back just a little bit further and lower his face to her tummy, kissing her bellybutton as lightly as he can.

“Be good,” he whispers. He wants to believe he’s only speaking to himself, but his smile can’t help but wriggle past his obstinate will and onto his face. He kisses her again. “For her, please.”

When she wakes, he’ll make sure she eats and drinks. He’ll massage her tired shoulders, if that’s what she’d like, and pop her aching back, then coax her back to sleep. But, for now, he pulls the covers back over her and sits still, tracing a hand along the curve of her sleeping jaw as he watches her dream, lost in one of his own.

[ramblingoak]

I want all of the WIPs but I can’t help but keep coming back to “Hips Don’t Lie Copia” out of sheer (lust) curiosity

Oh it'll be sheer lust probably. You get dragged to a bachata dance class with a friend when their date cancels on them. Your friend quickly finds another partner but that's ok because Copia is the instructor and he decides to give you some special attention. Maybe even offer some private lessons for later idk.

Here is a little (very very unedited) sneak peek:

You heard his shoes clacking against the floor as Copia got closer. Your friend wiggled their eyebrows at you, laughing when you hissed at them. Like usual they ignored you and called out to the instructor.

"Hey Copia! Can you help my friend here?" You gave them a horrified look but they just spun you around to face Copia. "She needs a lot of help with her uh, movements."

Copia tsked at you and shook his head. He somewhat politely moved your partner out of the way and stepped right up into your space. You couldn’t help but look into those intense eyes of his, the dark makeup around them making the green and white pop even more than they would have normally. His mustache and sideburns were trimmed immaculately just like they’ve been every lesson so far, but his hair was a little out of sorts. Strands were falling over his forehead that also was covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“Dolcezza?”

Oh, shit. Stop staring and focus!

“I’m sorry, yes what’s wrong?”

You tried not to blush at his smirk, but by the way it grew you knew he noticed. Glancing to the side you saw your partner had wandered off to chat with the group nearest to you so you tried to relax a little and pay attention to Copia.

“Your movements are a little stiff, you need to let go, si? You need to feel the music as you move.” He slid around you, graceful in his steps like always and pressed up against your back. “Like this.”

Copia snapped his fingers towards the person closest to the stereo system and when they turned it back on he immediately moved his hands to your hips. The sensual beats of the music echoed through the room and Copia started circling his hips to it. His hands guided your own as he did and you started to echo his movements. You had to bite your lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds because holy shit did it feel good to have him basically grinding against you.

“Bene, molto bene.”

A gasp did leave you when his hands squeezed your hips and you brought your own up to cover his. Copia just chuckled and entangled his fingers in yours as he pulled them up behind your head and held them against his shoulders. He turned his hands so yours ended up pressing against his head and oh wow his hair was just as soft as it looked. The beat of the music changed and with an easy movement he spun your around and pressed your chest against his own, that smirk still on his face as he looked into your eyes once more.

You refused to count his freckles.

WIP Tag Game

[cookiegirlsstuff]

The Hobi cheer up pt. 5

AN: This is part 5 of a series that will consist of 7 parts. I hope you like it!

Lee: Yoongi

Ler: J-hope

༉‧₊˚🖇🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

Yoongi was sad. And he didn't even try to hide it. Since he had released his new album, he had already received a lot of hate, such as that he wasn't a real rapper, that he had no talent or that he should leave Bangtan.

Normally, he wouldn't be bothered by the haters, but with the increasing popularity of bts, there were naturally more and more of them.

He was sad and hurt, but it wasn't just him. The other members also struggled because yoongi was constantly annoyed or was in his studio even longer than usual.

After a week of all this, Jhope decided enough was enough and wanted to talk to his hyung about it.

"Yoongi hyung?" he asked nervously as he sat down on the sofa next to the rapper. Everyone knew that Yoongi didn't like to talk about his feelings, which is why Hobi wanted to take it easy.

"We all know you're having a hard time right now and we think it would be better if you would talk to one of us about it," J-hope said quietly.

"It's nothing," yoongi assured him; "Just the usual hate," he mumbled somewhat sheepishly.

"Why didn't you tell us about it?" asked J-hope, slightly upset.

"I didn't want you to worry," Suga confessed.

"But now we're even more worried!" said Jhope and hugged his hyung, who for once didn't protest.

But even after the conversation, yoongi was still sad, even if he didn't know exactly why.

Of course, this didn't go unnoticed and J-hope decided to do something about it.

And what could be better than a good old hobi cheer up?

But Yoongi hated being touched or, even worse, being tickled. It wasn't really bad, but it was embarrassing for him.

That's why he always avoided such situations. And Jhope knew that if he wanted to put his plan into action, he had to be careful.

So he waited a few days until he saw yoongi sleeping peacefully on the couch. That was his chance.

"Attack!" he shouted, before "jumping" on yoongi and ticking his sides mercilessly.

At first Yoongi tried to push the younger one off him, but quickly realised that he was in the worst position to do so and had absolutely no chance to escape.

It didn't take long for Suga to be red in the face, his moving around strong enough for his body to be bouncing on the couch but nothing more than that.

'No, not there!' Yoongi pleaded, trying to wriggle away from Hobi's fingers, which were tickling his ribs.

'Oops, sorry!' Hoseok replied with an impish grin, before continuing his attack

Not gonna lie, J-hope was having the time of his life. He was finally able to tickle his hyung. He tried so many times and it all failed when Yoongk will get away. Now here he was, attacking the poor boy who was going crazy.

“It’s cute how you like being tickled” Jhope teased, knowing yoongi couldnt even protest.

"I hahahahate you!, the black haired boy managed to say between his laugher.

Hoseok giggled, finding his reaction absolutely adorable.

Next he started to spider his fingers up and down yoongi's ribs and squeezed his stomach at the same time.

“Please, w-wai-aIHAIHAIHAIT! Pleaheahease!” he shouted.

“Please what? Tickle you more? Gladly!” he laughed back, moving his hands down to squeeze his thighs and hips.

He tried grabbing Hoseok’s evil hands a couple of times, but he quickly snatches them back and go for his worst spots and just wiggling his fingers harder.

But it was no use. They were relentless, tickling him all over and making him squeal and laugh uncontrollably. And for the first time in weeks, Suga was truly happy again.

So Hoseok decided to stop there "Are you okay hyung?" he asked a little worried "I'm gohohod but please don't do this again" both of them laughed before going out to eat something and spend some more time together.

⬆ yoongi to the haters (this gif fits so good in this story 💜)

Hope you like it!

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Wayward Waters Chapter 6

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Hello everyone! Chapter 6!

time to explore more of the world!

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

have fun reading!

and as always Reblogs are appreciated! (Also ASK’s are open so feel free to bother me!)

AO3 Link for those that prefer the layout there;

AO3 Wayward waters

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I blinked and slowly woke up, seeing a wooden ceiling.

My head felt heavy and my thoughts foggy.

Did I fall off the mast?

“Whhuh?”

I tried to sit up but a somewhat webbed hand forced my head back onto the pillow.

“Please stay on the bed for now, we don't know how exactly you will react to Rimkir root so don't move”

What root? And reacting to it?

My vision was still blurry and my head foggy but I felt like I was in the wrong place.

“Wha hapn?”

I felt extremely confused, the last thing i could recall was, uhh..

Oh right, sitting on top of the mast and having a FUCKING Panic attack!

I tried to sit up but the half webbed hands shoved me down again.

“I said to stay put! Does nobody ever listen to medical advice? You're just as bad as Ronan!”

I blearily looked up at the person I could now identify as Imik.

And I had almost forgotten that Ronan was also somewhere in the ship.

“Wha? Did he wake up? Wait what happened to me? Why am I not on the mast anymore?”

Imik looked tired, at least from what I could see and I suddenly felt bad.

It wasn't their fault, they shouldn't have to deal with my shit.

“He woke up a few hours ago, He's better now but tried to walk around right away. 

I ended up tucking the blankets so tight that he can't move anymore.

As for you, well you had a pretty bad panic attack.

We ended up sedating you so we could get you down from Jamie's nest, which was kind of a logistical nightmare.

Do you feel any better now?”

Sedating me? Was that what the sweet smelling thing had been?

“Uh, im better now, my brain foggy tho”

Imik absentmindedly nodded and then bent down to fetch something from the floor.

He then handed me a big glass filled with clear water.

“Drink something, I'll have to go and see if Ronan managed to wiggle out of the bed, but you can just yell if you need anything else”

With that he left and I was alone in a small room that definitely belonged to someone else.

There were knicknacks strewn about and half a shirt looked out of a chest that had been shoved into a corner, making it look like the wooden thing was sticking its tongue out.

I stared at the glass, wondering whose room I was in, judging by the sizing of things it definitely wasn't Jamie’s, if they even had a normal room aside from the nest thing.

Whatever, I smelled the water to make sure it wasn't salty before slowly drinking it.

My brain still felt a little foggy but compared to the panic attack I preferred it.

I laid back on the bed and just stared at the ceiling for a while.

All of this sucked, like a LOT.

Man, I wanted home!

I kept laying there for half an hour feeling extremely bored.

At least until I heard footsteps on the other side of the apparently rather thin wooden wall if the sound of voices was anything to go by.

“...-anic attacks really suck, what are we supposed to do if he gets another one?” “Well for one not let him climb the mast again! What was the big idea for that anyway?” “It wasn't my Idea! I think he wanted to climb it out of curiosity!”

“And you let him? No wait, I bet you even taunted him for every mistake he made while climbing!”

“So what?”

“Guys, calm down”

“So what? SO WHAT? You keep egging people on! On the stupidest of things! I swear one of these days someone is going to jump in an underwater volcano because of you!”

“I assume im being ignored for the sake of anger once again”

“No, that's just not true! Unlike most people I've met, I know when to stop!” “Really? You do? What about the time you-‽  MMPh!”

“That was one time! You're really gonna harp on THAT Forever?”

“Jamie take your foot out of Imiks face please”

Okay what was going on out there?

I stood up and went to the door, opening it to a rather comedic sight.

Jamie had their clawed foot in Imiks face and squished his cheeks while Imik gripped Jamie's arm and tried to push them away to no avail.

Also I was pretty sure the position they were in was only possible due to Jamies weird legs seeing as they were both rather contorted and tried to strangle each other.

They froze when tha saw me in the position they were in, with Jamie half of the ground, foot in Imiks face and Imik trying to wrestle Jamie away.

Also Akeem was behind them.

Both Jamie and Imik looked at me.

“Ignore this!” “Didn't I tell you to rest?”

Came it from them in unison.

“It's a bit hard to rest when you guys are so loud, what are you even doing?”

They let go of each other, Jamie somehow not falling over.

“Nothing important!”

They said at the same time only to be suddenly grabbed and lifted off the ground by Akeem, leaving their legs dangling out of reach of the floor.

“Apologies Donovan, we will stop bothering you now”

I just stared at him for a second.

Then Jamie wriggled around and started scratching his face with their clawed feet, creating the sound of cat claws on a tile floor.

Despite the assault on his face he didn't even flinch, or blink.

Must be nice to be able to not give a single fuck about that.

“Uh, okay? I do feel better now, how's Ronan?”

Imik pointed two doors down the hall before he and Jamie were dragged away by Akeem.

Jamie still trying to scratch his face unsuccessfully.

Well, that was weird. 

I walked to the door Imik had pointed at and knocked softly.

I felt better now and just laying around was not doing me any favors, Might as well see how Ronan is doing.

“Ronan? Are you awake?”

I heard some rustling sounds and a dull thump, What the hell was he doing?

“Door is unlocked! You can come in!”

Of course the door was unlocked, scatterbrained as he was.

I slowly opened it and saw Ronan lying on the bed, only half under the covers and with his feet on the headrest.

So the sounds I had heard were him jumping back into bed.

He looked at me confusedly.

“Oh, uh, Donovan? You're… smaller”

Oh right, last he saw of me was when I turned Giant to transport him out of the Eel pit.

“Yep, it's me, how are you? 

The eel bites looked nasty, do you feel any better?”

He nodded despite the weird angle he was laying in.

“I feel better! Still incredibly sore though, and there is one nasty bite on my lower arm! Look at it!”

He held his arm up and began undoing the bandages.

I looked on for a second in shock before swiftly walking up to him and stopping him by holding his free arm away from the bandages.

“I believe you! I think you should let the bandages stay on, if you're so keen on showing me you can just get me the next time you change them okay?”

He looked disappointed but relented luckily.

“Sooo how come you're smaller? And two legged? OH! Can you shapeshift into anything else? And how do you do it? Can you use magic? If so, what kind?”

I was taken aback a little by the wall of questions he threw at me.

“Can you maybe ask one question at a time? I barely remember the first one you asked!”

He stopped talking and blinked confusedly.

“Oh sorry! So should I start again but slower?”

I looked at him with a deadpan face.

“As far as i know you should be resting, and i'm pretty sure i heard you running around, i just came in here to see how you're doing”

“Oh come on! I'll be fine! Ain't the worst that's happened to me! And I was just at the window! I wanted to let Imugi know I'm better!”

As nice as wanting to tell his Sea Serpent that he was okay now was he really shouldn't run around with what was essentially a lot of small lightning damage.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, still not feeling all that good myself yet.

“Five questions, but then you have to promise to rest as long as Akeem says”

Akeem seemed the most level headed out of them so this seemed reasonable to me, besides I did not want Ronan to injure himself further.

His face seemed to light up at the prospect of getting to ask Five questions though and I felt like I'd regret that soon enough.

“Okay! Deal! Soo first question uhhh, 

OH! How many forms can you shapeshift into?”

At least he picked an easy one for the first question.

“Three, the fuzzy green thing you saw, which is called an Ardua by the way, the Giant one and this human sized one, that's all”

“What? Only that? Man and here I was hoping for a cool dragon or something! 

So wait, I just remembered you barely ate anything as the… Ardua you called it? Do the plants on your back do photosynthesis? And can you use their energy?

Question number two, and quite an observant one, especially for a scatterbrained guy like him.

“Yes to both of those, like plants i can get get energy from sunlight if i'm in that form, which is pretty practical”

His eyes went wide and he started fiddling with the blanket.

“Ohhh! Man that must be awesome to not need to eat! 

If Imik didn't remind me I'd forget it sometimes!

Okay next question, number three right?

Your Giant form looked really tall! Any idea how tall exactly?”

How tall? Well he was in luck that had just been very recently measured.

“According to Jamie who measured me out of Boredom i'm forty five feet tall, no idea if that's accurate though”

“Forty five??? Fuck that's really tall! And I doubt Jamie made a mistake in measuring, they helped in the past measuring things in the past and it was always pretty accurate, so it's probably correct!”

So Jamie was right about me being forty five feet tall,  good to know that I was garbage at estimating my own height.

“Okay question four! Uhhh, what's your preferred form? Like the fuzzy one? Or the Giant one? Which one?”

My favorite form? Hmmm, each had their advantages and drawbacks.

The Ardua form looked scary and had no thumbs, the Giant one was strong but didn't fit in a house, The human form did fit in a house but was comparatively weak.

“Uhh to be honest no idea, they all have their advantages and drawbacks like, the fuzzy one does not have thumbs, the Giant one is too big for a lot of things, and the human sized one is weak compared to the other two.

I guess i like the Ardua form for sleeping though, in that form even sleeping on the floor is somewhat comfy”

He nodded wildly and seemed to think for a moment.

“Okay, Question number five, How do you shift? Is it like magic? Or more Biologically? I've seen Merfolk that can change their tail into legs and back! Is it like that?”

Of course that's what he HAD to ask, ugh, but I told him I'd answer five questions so that's what i was gonna do, not like he could use the bracelet anyway.

I held up the arm with the bracelet and tapped it.

“Don't tell anyone but this thing lets me shift, and no you can't use it, it's locked to the genetic code or whatever Oakley called it, meaning if anyone without the necessary genes puts it on they will die.

So do NOT under any circumstances put it on, you hear me?” He nodded, gaze transfixed on the reflective material of the bracelet.

“That is so cool! 

As soon as we're back to base you have to show me all the forms!”

Well, that went better than expected, at least he wasn't asking to wear it himself but maybe the warning did come across to his brain properly.

“I'm fine with that, the sooner we get there the sooner you get to poke at the forms and the sooner I can get back home!” He nodded frantically, nearly tearing holes in his blanket with his nails.

“Oh if you help me to the window I can tell Imugi to go extra fast! And tell her I'm fine! I didn't quite make it to the window before you came in…”

He admitted and I rolled my eyes, this guy's self preservation was Garbage at best.

“Alright, just don't complain to me when your wounds reopen!”

“Oh don't worry! I have a high pain tolerance!”

That comment made me think back to Fable,  the poor guy also had no idea what happened to me.

God, I missed him as well.

“That does not sound as reassuring as you think!”

He just shrugged and I helped him stand up by slinging one of his arms over my shoulder, idly noting he was about the same height as me.

Then I slowly maneuvered him to be right next to the window which he immediately opened.

“IMUGI!”

There was an excited whistle click sound and suddenly Imugi was in front of the bullseye shaped window which was too small to let her fit her head in.

Not that she didn't try tough.

Ronan just stuck his hand out instead.

“I'm fine girl, and I'd be even better the faster we reach home. 

Can you be a dear and bring us to Kariba Island as fast as possible?”

Imugi made a weird sound that was a mix of chirping and whistling and dived under and out of sight again.

Only a moment later there was a tug on the boat and I could literally feel how we went faster.

I held onto Ronan so he wouldn't fall over.

“Man she's fast! And she's towing the entire boat!” Ronan laughed at that.

“Yes! She can hold that tempo for quite some time as well! You should see her zoom around without being tied to the boat! I even made a saddle! I keep falling off though so I gotta tinker on it still!”

I wasn't sure what surprised me more, that the Sea serpent could hold this tempo for an entire day or that Ronan made an entire fucking saddle for her.

Okay the saddle somehow surprised me less, and even less that he still had to tinker on it.

“A saddle? Really? I hope you can hold your breath well then! 

Now let's get you back to bed”

He grinned and nodded, half hanging over my shoulder like a wet cat.

“Fine by me! A deal is a deal! And I got to tell Imugi I'm fine so that's even better!”

I gently guided him back to bed and set him on it properly, not the weird upside down thing he did before. 

“Oh before you go! Could you hand me a book to read? Its so fucking boring just laying around!”

While talking he pointed at a closet that was built into the wall of the room with lockable drawers.

The keys for it were on a hook right next to it that was bent so much the ship would have to be upside down for them to fall off.

I took the keys and opened the drawer he had pointed at, seeing a total of ten books, picking two random ones I chucked them on the bed where Ronan immediately grabbed them like a possessive drake.

“Thanks! Finally less boredom! Also I hope when we get there we'll find a way to get you back to your friends!”

I stopped for a moment where I was in the doorway.

“Thank you for helping, now just focus on getting better Imugi had looked so sad when you got Injured!”

That seemed to surprise him.

“She did? Ough, I gotta apologize for that later to her!”

“Not only her, Jamie, Akeem and Imik where also worried as fuck!”

With that i left the room and closed the door behind me.

Man, what a chaotic bunch, but at least we were closer to that Kariba island now. 

Maybe I should ask them if they got a map of the island?

Knowing what it looked like might be nice.

On the way back to the deck I ran into Jamie, who immediately grabbed my arm with one of their bird leg claws, and dragged me along.

Man they were strong for someone so small, first getting dragged into the nest and now I was forced to keep up while they only hopped forwards on one leg.

“You GOTTA see what Island we are going past right now! And it's just the right season too!”

Island? Right season? What?

“Wait a second, what do you mean? 

Why are you dragging me to see an island? 

Are we going to stop there?”

They just shook their heads, dragging me onto the deck and towards the railing.

“Nah, we ain't gonna stop! So that's why you have to look now!”

Well, I had no idea what this was about if we weren't even stopping at that island but I still looked if only to stop Jamie from digging their claws in even more.

The island we were sailing past was VERY colorful and looked to be completely overgrown by every flower possible in this climate, giving it an almost unreal appearance.

“How many flowers are there? And how come they all grow there?”

Jamie just grinned widely, showing a pair of dull fangs.

“Ha! I knew the guy with plants on his back would like this! 

Apparently some odd years ago a ship that was supposed to bring lots of rare flower seeds to who knows where got stranded on the island and broke in two! 

The seeds were just left there and at some point started growing!”

All the flowers were from a single shipwreck? 

Wow, I was almost tempted to ask them to stop the boat so I could try and get some for Robin but that would mean wasting even more time.

Suddenly a webbed hand grabbed the railing from outside,  heaving the attached body onboard again.

It was, of course, Imik.

He also had a little burlap bag slung over his shoulder.

“I found some seeds that were waterproof packaged! Part of the wreck is actually still there! Just underwater!”

Man Imik had to be a fast swimmer to get there and back while we drifted past it, the island wasn't really all that big even.

He then reached into the bag and tossed me a little thumb sized box made out of bronze, shaking it I could hear lots of little things hit against each other.

“Here! You can have one! I doubt those contain any plant that's not already growing on the island!”

“Oh, uh, thank you, I actually know someone that would love this!”

He grinned, which showed a mouth full of shark-like teeth, and gave a thumbs up.

“Great! I myself am quite bad at keeping plants alive for longer than a week anyway!”

He then speed walked away to the door into the ship,  his webbed feet making a weird plap, plap noise as he walked.

Yep, chaotic bunch.

I stowed the thumb sized box away in the little bag that already contained the fossilized sea star for Fable.

Looking back at the island I noticed Jamie had used their claws to hold onto the railing and squat down like a bird would.

They really looked like a chicken right now with the way they sat on the wood.

I decided not to mention it and instead watch the flower island until it was out of sight.

It was really pretty, man I wished my friends could see this, Especially Robin! He'd love this!

At some point Jamie walked off,  going back up the mast to be the lookout again.

The island was out of sight now, Imugi was really fast, and strong, so i had nothing to do now.

I had already checked in on Ronan, Jamie was back up the mast and I was absolutely NOT climbing that again.

Maybe I could ask Akeem or Imik for something to do? Oh wait, Imik wanted to show me how to properly hold my breath for a really long time!

Then we got interrupted by the chaos on the eel island and kinda forgot.

Not to mention the fact I had a panic attack.

Yep, not fun.

I walked through the door I had seen Imik disappear into and found myself in a room filled with shelves and boxes, all nailed or screwed down so they would fall over should the ship be hit by a bigger wave.

The shelves themself were so constructed that they had drawers instead of bare wood to place things on, and every single one was lockable in a way that would prevent them from sliding open unprompted.

Quite an architectural feat in my opinion, and considering that Imik mentioned he was a treasure hunter they were probably filled with various things he brought up from the sea floor.

“Looking for something specific?”

I startled and turned around, coming face to face with the Merling.

“Oh, uh, kinda? You said you would show me how to hold my breath for a really long time?”

“Oh right, I did! Good timing, I was just getting bored again after stashing my new stuff!”

I was then dragged along for the second time today, but this time I was led to a more open space in the middle of the room which had a carpet nailed down on it that seemed to be made out of seaweed.

Remembering last time I had gotten a short instruction I sat down on the carpet while Imik did the same opposite of me.

“Okay where were we last time? Like what did I already tell you?”

“Uh, you told me to like, calm down and slow my heartbeat?”

He nodded, at least I had gotten that right.

“Apnea is about expanding the capacity of your lungs. 

At a depth of 30 meters, the lungs are only 25% of their actual size, so With diaphragmatic and lateral lung breathing, more air can be inhaled! 

And if you slow your heart down and are calm your body uses less air!

Fantastic isn't it?”

I had understood maybe half of what he was saying, but he'd probably show me anyway.

Yep. I was right in that as he started to explain how to control one's breathing among some other things.

And thus the day was spent learning how to do various breathing exercises.

While unusual it wasn't as boring as one would have thought, At one point I had to hold my breath while Imik tried to get me to laugh or poked at me.

Apparently that was to make sure I wouldn't spit all the air out should a fish startle me.

While probably true he seemed to have a good time with it, and it was a little funny

He had also been positively surprised when I told him about the only breathing thing I knew, to calm someone from a panic attack.

He immediately jotted it down in a random notebook.

We continued with that until the door was slammed open and Jamie waltzed in.

“AY! Dinner time you idiots!”

Already?, though, looking actually outside showed the sun was way lower than before. 

We really had spent all day with the Apnea diving thing huh?

Well, i did feel like i made some progress, like being able to hold my breath for about seven minutes now, Maybe more, we didn't have a clock.

Whatever, maybe now they had something to eat that wasn't sandwiches.

No they did not, and by now the bread was either stale or soggy again, somehow.

I politely declined under the guise that since I had plants on my back in Ardua Form I didn't need to eat anyway.

That and I didn't want to use more of their resources than I already did.

And so I got out of eating stale sandwiches, for now at least.

“Are you not a fan of sandwiches?” Asked Ronan then, gnawing on his own rather stale bread with what was probably marmalade.

“Well, depends, and not everyday for sure, don't you have anything else on board?

Since I had gotten onto the boat the only thing they had to eat were those sandwiches, which couldn't be healthy.

“Well, the dude that cooks had to stay home cuz he broke his ribs!”

Interjected Jamie nonchalantly while grabbing another bread.

“What?” “Yeah! The crane we have on board was getting some heavy box up and somehow slammed him into the wall! Apparently the pressure of being squished between the crate and the wall just snapped some of his Bones a few months ago! 

Good thing we know a pretty okay doc!”

I was just staring at Jamie who told a story like that completely nonchalantly.

Yeah, these guys had a few screws loose, maybe even used them to keep the boat together.

“Oh, well, I hope he gets well soon?”

I said awkwardly, not really knowing what to do in such a situation.

“Eh, Yamet is fine, next time he can go back on the ship as well! I bet he's incredibly bored though!”

At least that was nice, but man these guys were crazy.

Oh well, better not say anything about it.

Though if they made such jokes this Yamet guy was probably fine.

Probably.

The only somewhat calm dinner of stale bread and possibly moldy marmalade was interrupted by a loud boom and an impact that shook the entire ship.

What? What was happening?

The entire crew had already sprung up and hasted to a variety of places, Jamie back up the mast, Akeem and Imik got entire fucking Cannons.

Ronan was already nowhere to be seen and I had no idea where he went.

Hopefully back inside as it appeared we were under attack.

Not really knowing what to do, I walked over to where Akeem and Imik were, already stuffing a cannonball into the cannon to fire back.

Not knowing how to operate a cannon or even how to help, I tried to get a glance on what was attacking us, which turned out to be another ship.

Pirates? As far as I knew they were a big enough Problem that Rikaad had wanted to deal with it himself.

Worse was that the enemy boat was bigger than ours and probably had more people.

Imik and Akeem fired their cannon and managed to hit the low side of the enemy ship.

Unfortunately we got hit again, the ship going very lopsided for a moment and I could hear a weird screech.

Looking up I saw it was Jamie, who was upside down and held on to the outermost piece of the mast with a clawed foot.

Oh fuck, they'd fall in at any moment!

Leaving the experts to man the cannon, I ran to the other side of the ship, only seeing out of the corner of my eye that apparently Imugi had rammed the other boat, causing some of the men on board to freak out at being attacked from a sea monster.

Man, I hoped they wouldn't shoot at Imugi.

Unlikely though.

I was positioned at the railing, still not anywhere near Jamie and thus not able to catch them as they fell, another cannonball impacting at the same time and causing the crane to fall overboard where Jamie was just moments ago.

Being horribly reminded of what had happened to me not that long ago when the mast crashed onto my own head I jumped in after Jamie, shifting while jumping and inhaling as much air as I could, doing as Imik had shown me.

I dived down after Jamie, seeing that one of their legs had gotten tangled in a rope from the crane and they were desperately trying to get it loose.

I managed to swim after them right as they went past an underwater cliff, the top part of the crane scraping against the rock with an unpleasant noise.

Not having thumbs currently I simply bit into the crane, not like it would be usable anymore anyway.

Jamie got loose, kicking their thin legs which were definitely not made for swimming and tried to swim up, which thanks to having so thin legs was agonizingly slow.

Then the crane which had been scraping against the rock knocked a boulder loose, which in turn bumped into more rocks, freeing them and causing an underwater landslide.

Jamie got hit square in the chest by one and was dragged even deeper down as the rocks went towards the bottom of the ocean and I dived after them, taking them into my mouth due to a lack of thumbs.

Their legs were still sticking out and my mouth was filled with water, not allowing them to breathe either as one of the bigger rocks hit my back, pushing me deeper underwater and ending up trapping me on a shelf like rock formation as more of the rockslide buried my lower half under it.

Fuck, now i was trapped with no air, 

and even worse was that Jamie had no air either.

But I had a little bit of air, maybe I could share?

Tentatively I pressed Jamie against my palate, pushing out as much water as I could and then let my mouth fill with some of my own air.

I felt them cough and while maybe a bit stale the air was still better than nothing.

But now what? I was trapped and there was no way for Jamie to get back up without drowning.

NEXT / PREVIOUS / OVERSIGHT

[thefanciestborrower]

[I had a thought while watching Ninjago and I'm subjecting you to it, since it's partially your fault <3]

There was something to be said, Jay thought, about the amount of running they ninja did. Buildings blurred familiarly in fine, colored lines that wove in and out of his sight as they darted down narrow alleys and clambered over unstable fire escapes. The rhythm of footsteps drummed like the beat of his own heart, singing of adrenaline and bruises. Of combat and steel.

"Are you still up there?" Zane's voice was something far away, faded in the world of darting, zipping lights.

"Haven't dropped me, yet." Jay's words were more of a chirp, really, unhindered by the breathlessness that came with running, for at the moment, he really wasn't. his heart had stopped hammering long ago—before Zane had even started running—and instead was replaced with a steady, eerie calm. As if everything was too far away to be concerned over.

And, granted, despite the current caved-in-ness of Zane's primary chest compartment, and the disconcerting sparking resulting, they really were too far away to really be concerned over the small mob of rabid (Jay thought they were rabid. Zane less so) unrulies that so rudely interrupted what should have been a perfectly sane perusing of Borg's latest wares.

Sure, they may have replaced one of Borg's flavor pills with those shrink-people diet pills, but it wasn't Jay's fault his batch was soured. It hadn't even tasted good. More like metal and sadness than anything, really, although that might have been partially his initial outrage upon finding himself small enough to hitch a ride on Zane's shoulder.

Anyway, Jay's favorite nindroid currently vaguely annoyed with him, and a definitive lack of ninja vehicle in sight, they found themselves stopping at the old depot. The one Lloyd and the resistance had apparently set up shop in during the Garmadon 2.0 incident. Zane needed to reconnect whatever it was in his chest that was sparking and/or burning (Jay knew roasting-electrical-wire-casing-smell anywhere), and then they needed a way to hail the bounty because, according to Zane, being small would be a lot less about eating him-sized snacks and a lot more about getting chased by rodents if they left him alone.

It was a sad day that any of them had to settle down on a literal wooden box to make repairs, but Jay supposed it was no worse than getting stuck in the Oni realm for a couple of weeks. Still, watching Zane pick somewhat cautiously at the minuscule wires usually hidden by metal and now shot through with various types of shrapnel (okay, so maybe Zane did most of the fighting, since Jay was too busy freaking out about his newfound lack of vertical status) made his fingers twitch.

"Let me do it." Aside from the usual status checks to make sure Jay hadn't been lost in the time it took to run one city block, they hadn't really spoken much since the store. They didn't particularly need to, honestly. Zane knew where they were going, and Jay trusted him well enough.

A click, and Zane turned his head (too far to be normal-looking for anyone but Zane), revealing something like amusement on his face, the more flexible metal-lined silicone lending itself to a wrinkled nose and a perked eyebrow, the lopsided smile laying beneath it a whisper of laughter. "I am perfectly suitable for the task."

As much as he could at his diminutive height, Jay puffed out his chest. "But I'm better." He wiggled his fingers in Zane's face, mouth stretched into a grin. "Little hands for little wires."

"It would make repairs faster." He always knew he'd hit it right when Zane started talking to himself, and soon enough, a robotic hand with a couple joints exposed near the knuckle was lowering him down to Zane's chest panel like a glorified window washer.

The thing was mangled—destroyed, really. Whatever he'd been hit with had caved the entire panel door into itself like it was hit by a bullet. Pieces of it flaked off in sharp shards just large enough to slice through casing, and whatever paint had been on the metal was all-but vaporized. The inside looked better—marginally. a couple of wire casings were slit here and there, and some of the braiding had been cut, causing sparks when it brushed against other strands, but that wasn't something a little electrical tape couldn't fix.

There was something more for Zane to have stopped like he did.

Lip firmly gnawed between teeth, Jay leaned forward, bracing a hand against the outer casing of the port to get a good look. Under the wires, a brass plate parted the limb and internal functions segment. Around where it met the main body, it discolored, turning a darker brown and bending outward. From one of the raised corners, a pale blue fluid trailed lazily toward the wires, viscous in its consistency and somewhat sticky. It was cold, too. Coolant, maybe.

"Hang on, I'm gonna—" Jay's world jumped a little bit as he hoisted himself over the wires (avoiding the bits of shrapnel still stuck in the colorful casings) and shoved his arm—quite nearly up to his shoulder—through the thin gap created by the bent brass. Had Jay actually have been listening, he might have heard the disapproving voice of Zane telling him that there was nothing back there damaged recently, but Jay was never a really good listener, and he was far more interested in finding the source of the mystery blue fluid. Who knew what it could do to open wiring, and Zane probably needed that inside wherever it was supposed to be, so he found himself entirely justified as he rooted around in the back of Zane's switch panel.

What his hand hit first was smooth and almost leathery. Like silicone but smoothed to a finish and reinforced by something. It was almost the same texture as Zane's faceplate, if less porous.

"Hey, Zane, what's—"

"I think that's enough."

Jay squawked as a hand looped its way through the wire holding him somewhat upright and prized him from the depths of Zane's machinery. he was careful—he always was with the ninja, honestly—but his grip was somewhat constricting around Jay's ribs even as he whined and wiggled in an attempt to get back at the thing he was looking at. "I wasn't done. You're leaking something in there! It's probably important!" And yeah, he was a little offended, but moreso, he had nerves rising from his throat. Like a poison, it chilled his heart and made his hands shake.

The silence lasted a beat too long.

"It's nothing."

Zane was, as he always had been, a terrible liar.

DUDE I’M SCREAMING????? THIS WAS THE FIRST THING I SAW WHEN I WOKE UP TODAY AND OH MY GOSH IT’S AMAZING. LIKE. ACTUALLY SO GOOD. I AM SO HAPPY TO HAVE partially CAUSED THIS BECAUSE HOLY CRAP!!!! I shall be reading and re-reading this idea for the next few hours because it’s giving me ideas as well

And like....your descriptions of Zane????? Are fantastic???? Oh my gosh??? I may have some new ideas for how to draw him now because my goodness!!! Anyways this made my morning and probably my whole day and I cannot properly articulate how much I love it here but uhhhh please fill free to send drabbles and ideas like this whenever you want because I am LIVING for it

[justicefanged]

She missed him. A lot. Maybe she could have written it off as being around his brother but, even before then, even when they were still on the boat doing soapy pushups, her mind still kept returning to thoughts of Linus.

She's excited to find him too, when things have finally returned to normal. It had just been hard at first to find an excuse to approach him without coming off as too desperate. She's never been particularly great at the whole making friends thing but she's never really needed more than the little handful she had. Now that she's in Fódlan and they are not, Altena finds herself wishing she had more.

And then Lloyd finds her with a box that absolutely has some sort of creature inside and tells her to give it to Linus and she knows this is her chance. She can approach him with a reason other than the fact that she's lonely and likes him.

She wastes no time in seeking him out. On top of wanting to see him, she is quite curious about what's inside. And she said she wouldn't open it without Linus and she has always been a woman of her word. Linus is easily tracked down--he's not exactly the type of person that can fly under the radar--and her face lights up when she sees him.

"This is for you. For us, maybe? Your brother asked me to deliver it."

Supposedly, everyone that had left on that mission was back now, but fuck if Linus could find any of them! No Altena, no Lloyd, no Raven. Not a single one of them! And, boy, did he have a bone to pick with his brother once he decided to show his face! He'd been in a piss poor mood for the last month, and not being able to find the handful of people he actually got on with here was just grinding his gears even more.

He's stomping down one of the halls, coming back from some Saints forsaken lesson, and doesn't see one of the stray cats that linger around the monastery sunning itself on the pathway. His boot comes down on its tail, and the bright orange thing yowls like a demon before clawing and biting its way up his leg and then kicking off in a whirl of teeth, claws and puffed up fur.

"Well, don' fuckin' lay your mangy ass out in the walkway, ya overgrown weasel!" Linus barks down the hall, swearing up a storm as he kneels down to check out his leg. Nothing too bad, but man, those claws could really dig in when they wanted to, fuck!

It's as he's in this awkward position of fiddling with his trousers that he hears a familiar voice, his head jerking up to see Altena approaching him. Linus fumbles for a moment, trying to straighten up and fix his somewhat ripped up pant leg that absolutely had a couple of cat claws stuck in at the same time.

"Hey! What, uh--" The box was for him? Them? H u h? "Been lookin' 'round for ya, but this place is a fuckin' maze that changes layouts every day, I swear--" Wow, he was really tripping over his words here. Embarrassing as hell, but now that she's right here, in front of him -- with roses in her cheeks and this look on her face -- Linus can't really be bothered to care that he looks like a bumbling idiot right now.

"What I mean is, I fuckin' missed ya, 'Tena," he eventually blabbers out after a bit of an incoherent and overly loud ramble. "Next time you're goin' off on some excitin' adventure or whatever, ya can't leave me behind, ya got that?!"

But...the box wiggles and makes a noise, and Linus' curiosity starts to get the better of him.

"So, my brother rope you in to try an' smooth things over?" he asks, rolling his eyes but reaching for the lid of the box anyways. To his surprise, it wasn't bolted down or anything and came off easily to reveal--

"No fuckin' way...," Linus chuckles, low and breathy, sticking a hand in to pull the contents of the box out. A roly-poly, brown and black puppy squirms in his grip; sharp little puppy teeth biting into his fingers, high pitched but fierce growls joining the action. He clicks his tongue at the pup, getting its attention and freeing his fingers from its mouth.

"...Bet you weren't expectin' that," he says, tone all soft and playful as he shifts the puppy in his hands, getting a good look at him. And, yeah -- definitely a him. The pup didn't care for the inspection, making an outrageously shrill, almost honking squeal as he was handled.

"Wait, wait, fuck. I have the perfect name! 'Tena, what'cha think about--?"

[the-coincidence-child]

ASLAN'S BLOOD [IN DEPTH]

★ꕀ༒︎ꕀ★

"The half breed boy with the smell of a misleading berry on a poison bush, one bite from one and your already finished."

WARNING- BLOOD (obv), GOREY(?), KIDNAPPING.

AUTHOURS NOTE- Basic run down, this is a explanation of Aslan's blood as he was born a half breed vampire n human. Basic explanation of Aslan's favourite tactic of escaping danger is misleading his victims, letting them drink his blood and watch as they fall to their knees and die. My sweet lil boy <3 ANYWAY ENJOY

FANFIC/SCENARIO AT THE END.

★ꕀ༒︎ꕀ★

★ꕀ Aslan is already some what small for a 11yr old. Not too short but rather skinny and meek looking, one look and you'd think you'd be able to take him down just like that. But if that's what you think then you're already wrong on so many different levels.

★ꕀ While yes you're right, he isn't as strong as his uncles or father. He definitly can not take down a full breed creature with using just violence and weapons. But his blood can, with just one lick your entire body is filled with a sharp pain in every vein in your body.

THE TASTE

★ꕀ It starts off as a bitter flavour, within a minute your taste buds feel sour tingly sensation all over. Once it stains your throat it thickens up chocking you and as you cough for air you can't tell if it's yours or his blood coming out, then it quickly goes swims like tad poles in a stream through your veins you'll feel a slight shock for a moment, then the pain comes in. It'd feel like knives cutting you open but from the inside, mainly in your neck-arms-stomach. Once the process has finally ran through your body enough, you'll begin to feel a sharp numbing as you fall to your death. Your hearing goes quiet as the only thing you can hear are the loud noises of your heart give out on you.

Then you die.

THE SMELL

★ꕀ It looks quick but the feeling feels so very slow. Now wouldn't his poisons blood have a odder? Like one close to a zombie, how would he be able to trick people into drinking it in the first place? Now you may think that but remember he was BORN a half breed didn't die and become one.

★ꕀ It's misleading for a reason. His blood has a sweet smell, like freshly cooked raspberry desert that just doesn't have the greatest taste. When he has a cut his scent can run like wild fire, spreading across the entire manner. It's almost a bit too sickly sweet, and depending on how he feels the smell can even change itself. From sweet to savoury and even a minty smell. However it tends to stay sweet. It makes it easier to lead people in this way.

THE COLOUR

★ꕀ It looks somewhat normal at first, but when you look deeper at it it's a lot darker then a average red colour, and it's incredibly thick and not runny at all. It's very mahogany.

★ꕀ༒︎ꕀ★

SCENARIO [Aslan gets kidnapped.]

★ꕀ༒︎ꕀ★

"Asshole..!!" He shouts at the man as he tried to wiggle out of the ropes that confided his little body. The rope pinching and giving him slivers. Aslan needs to learn that maybe walking out alone at this time isn't a great idea, there was plenty of creeps and the vampire hunters his grandfather sent after him loaming out during the cold night. "Ugh..!!" He groaned as he was thrown onto the concrete floor.

The older man giggled, his staff in hand. His smile was all the more troubling to Aslan, when he got a better look at the man's face he realized that this person was one of 'Tougo Sakamaki's' workers. He was rich that's for sure, but it was easy to tell that he was just trying to over throw him in his position in the republican world. Oh course.. Aslan always needs to be caught up in the family business that has literally nothing to do with him. His eyes scrunch up as he watches the man rub his hands together.

"Fufu..~! Once I send a picture to Tougo letting him know I have his little grandchild he'll have to give up his position and give it to me instead." Aslan looked at him as if he had two heads, it did startle him a bit when he said grandchild. That's not really public that he's Karl's grandchild but seriously did he really think he that all he needed to do was this? He's more stupid then looks to think that Karl would really give a shit about him. He scoffs. "Are you stupid..? Do you seriously think your gonna get rich from him giving you just one position? Please he has more jobs and stuff. He'll always have more then you."

"Shut your trap kid. I didn't bring you here to be a smart mouth, now.. Hmph..!!" Aslan squealed as he was being lifted up into the air from the air, hanging from the ceiling. "I don't care about allat, I just need the money. And you're my one way ticket to that.. Now smile!" A big flash went off, Aslan closes his eyes from the blinding light as the man took two or more photo's of him.

"Tut..! Who the hell uses those kind of camera's anymore huh? Are we in the 60s still? Damn you must really need that money if you're using that old rusty thing." He said in snarky tone.

"(..It's obivous I can't get out this ropes the noughts are too well done and it's way to tight right now.. I can't fight my way out of this. I'm gonna have to see if this man is just as sad as he looks in order to do the other plan.. Phew... This really is a pain.)" He thought, in a almost sarcastic way he rolled his eyes listening to the man gloat about how rich he'll be within the next few hours. That gave him some time to loosen the rope around his body but not loosen them enough where he'd fall. "You know I've seen pigs get food more successfully, hehe.. I was gonna compare you to one but that'd be a bit insulting..." He pauses. "To the animal at least." He grinned however it was quickly wiped off with a big hit to his cheek, the diamond staff cutting it open.

The fruity sensation filled the chamber room, "Haah.." A heavy breath fell from the man's lips as the smell hit his nose digging it's way inside his nose they found themselves edging the tip of his taste buds. "Y-you smell.. You smell incredible..!!" He shouts, seems Aslan's plan might be going into the right direction. "Haha.. Hahaha..!! Seems I've got into something deeper, I should show these pictures to him tell him I'll give you back but then run away with you the minute I get the position!!" He began heaving, like a dog in heat. The thought made Aslan sick to his stomach, being used like a tool. No chance no way in hell he thinks.

He flinches when the man steps closer. His body grows tense his fake fear was almost too real, grabbing his face pulling it up to show the very deep cut on his left cheek. "Sick bastard.." He mumbled. "But.. I guess you have a little taste, because you little plan isn't going to go very far."

"Hoh? Such confidence, I like you kid. You're perfect little meal for me to feast on." Kneeling down, he inhales more of Aslan's smell before licking up the dripping red gush, "Nn.. Cough.. It's.. Bitter? What the hell is this voodoo---" A loud thumb was heard, his own heart beat reacted to quickly to it even Aslan heard it. "Gwaaahh..!!" His screams became rasp the more amount of seconds past by, his veins appeared all over his body they were now red the mans neck turning pink as he scratched and scratched hoping to ease the excruciating pain. Coughing up who knows who blood he drops to his knees hands on his neck his agonizing pleads could break down the walls around them, even this whole house.

And as it all happened, Aslan watched it dead faced his crimson eyes shining and glowing bring light to the room. He watched like a snake does from far away his body still like a statue. And as the man finally gives out, his final eye contact being with his sharp eyes he finally dies dropping to the floor Aslan closes his eyes for a second from the loud THUMB. He very nonchalantly manages to wiggle out of the ropes dropping he shakes his body before wiping his blood stained face. "Gross.. I got man spit on me." He moves the old guy on his back looking through his pockets in search of a key, and to his excitement he grabs the many keys from his pocket, and also finding himself some gum. "I told you. Wasn't going your way."

Popping a few in his mouth he drops the container to the ground as he blows a bubble in his mouth running to the door unlocking it, the young boy runs away escaping the mansion successfully.

★ꕀ༒︎ꕀ★

-END-

[spencerlouis]

can you write one where louis normally really looks after what he eats and works out and stuff bc he wants to be as fit as possible for harry but then harry is abroad (idk, for like tour or something whatever) and louis kinda takes a rest and gets pudgier?

Louis guiltily chewed into the last bite of his pizza, glancing into the box, where nothing but crumbs remained. I have to stop eating like this, he thought to himself. Harry had only been on a work trip for a week so far and Louis had spent the entire time pigging out and indulging in the kind of foods he didn’t normally allow himself, as he has a tendency to be on the heavier side. 

Harry was to be away for two months, and Louis knew if he kept eating like this he would balloon over that time. But, once he had allowed himself to taste the sweet delicacies he usually denied himself he was finding it quite difficult to stop eating them. 

~

And, so the plentiful meals and over abundance of sweets and treats went on. Louis enjoyed trying things he had never had before. Different sweets from different countries. Recently he was quite fond of butter tarts, a wonderful pastry from Canada. 

The only problem was his new favourite snack contained lots of butter and sugar which quickly began to make themselves known on his waistline. Louis, of course, remained somewhat oblivious to this change in his body. He figured he would have gained some weight, but as he didn’t often use the scale or make a habit of examining himself in the mirror he had greatly underestimated the effect his overindulgence was having on his body.   

That was until his pair of track pants that had been large on him began to dig into the soft flesh of his tummy, leaving red marks. The material also stretched to cover his growing thighs and bum. 

But, still he managed to convince himself he hadn’t gained that much. That was until one morning when he went to slip on a pair of the previously oversized track pants, only to find he couldn’t manage to pull them over his bum. 

Louis’ cheeks flushed red as he stared down at his rounded belly that clung tightly to his shirt, another garment that had once been oversized. Louis wiggled out of the pants and tore off his shirt, rushing over to the mirror in his boxers to study himself.  

When his eyes landed on his reflection he felt a pit of shame and embarrassment deep inside him. How could he have been so foolish to believe with all the sweets and large meals he had eaten, he wouldn’t gain tons of weight? 

Louis ran his hands over his newly soft sides, down to his hips. They were so much wider, and to his horror stretch marks covered his tummy, hips, and thighs. 

Louis stood in front of the mirror for some time. He studied his body and jiggled the excess flesh, feeling a deep sense of disgust at himself. But, then he remembered a horrible thing. Harry was to return home in only a week's time. What would he think of Louis’s pudgy body? 

Louis turned around, walked over to the bed and let himself fall face first onto its soft mattress. Would Harry still want him like this? His looks were what had attracted Harry to him in the first place. Harry being a CEO of a successful company. Louis had only been a waiter at the time they had met. But, now Harry provided a glamorous lifestyle for the two of them. Allowing Louis to pursue his hobbies and explore various pastimes. 

Most of all though, Louis loved Harry. His eyes began to water as he pictured the look of disgust on his love’s face when he set eyes on Louis’ fat body. He didn’t think he could take the disappointment and criticism that would follow. 

Louis wrapped himself in blankets, trying to feel as small as possible and cried himself to sleep. 

~

The day of Harry’s expected arrival quickly came. Louis finished buttoning up his shirt, taking a deep breath as he looked in the mirror. Louis had ordered some new outfits, even if he was now fat he didn’t want Harry to come home to him spilling out of his clothes. He had hoped having clothes that fit would help him appear smaller, but no fabric could disguise the love handles and belly he had gained when they had been apart. 

Louis’ head turned when he heard the door open and the sweet voice of his boyfriend calling his name. 

“Louis?”

Louis gulped, wishing he could just disappear, so Harry wouldn’t have to see him like this. He had told himself he would accept the consequences of what he had done, but as he heard Harry’s footsteps approach the bedroom, he grew more and more terrified. 

He jumped in their bed and covered himself with blankets and hid his head under them. 

“Louis?” Harry’s voice was filled with confusion as Louis felt the weight of the bed shift slightly as Harry sat beside him. “Are you not feeling well?”

Louis bit his lip before muttering, “I’m fine.” 

“Then what are you doing under there, silly?” Harry asked with amusement in his voice. 

“Hiding,” was all Louis responded. 

Harry rolled the blanket down to Louis’ chin and gave him a smile full of endearment, “and what would you be hiding from?”

Louis looked away, “I’m not hiding from something, I’m hiding something.” 

“And what would that be?”

Louis blinked back tears and whispered, “my body.” 

Harry gasped, “What!? You don’t have to hide your body, Lou, I love how you look.” Harry tried to reassure him, knowing how insecure Louis could be. 

Louis shook his head, “you loved how I looked, not how I currently look.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean?” 

Louis took a deep breath and sighed before tearily stating, “I got fat while you were gone, Harry! I ate way too much and gained so much weight. I’m so sorry.” 

“Louis,” Harry said as he gently turned Louis’ head to face him, realizing for the first time how much chubbier his cheeks were, “I don’t care about your weight. I only care that you are happy and healthy.” 

Louis shook his head, “you say that now, but you haven’t seen me?”

“While may I see you?” Harry asked. Seeing the fear in Louis’ eyes he added, “I’ll have to see your body eventually.”

Louis thought this over, before deciding Harry was right. It would be better to get it over with. He shoved the blankets aside and restrained himself from crossing his arms over his tummy. 

“Oh, wow,” Harry breathed out. 

Louis clenched his eyes shut in shame, “I told you how gross I am.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, “no, no. Louis, You look so good, so perfect and huggable. How could you ever think I would hate your body?” Harry bit his lip as he eyed Louis, “may I?” he asked, his fingers ghosting the buttons of Louis' shirt. 

Speechless, Louis found himself nodding. Harry slowly and carefully unbuttoned each button, as if he wanted to savour every moment. But when the final button was undone, he took in a sudden breath. 

“Louis…” Harry whispered as he reached out to softly trace the stretch marks that decorated Louis’ body. “How could you ever think I would be angry about this? You're so soft, like a beautiful fluffy cloud on a warm summer’s day. How could you think I wouldn’t want this?” 

“I-I just assumed,” Louis stammered, “I thought you would think I look greedy and ugly.” 

“Never,” Harry firmly told him, staring deeply in his eyes, “You deserve to treat yourself to whatever you desire. Especially when it has such a pleasant side effect,” he gently rubbed Louis’ plush sides as he spoke, “do you understand?” 

Louis blushed at the affection Harry was showering him with, “I understand.”

If anyone wants to send me chubby Louis Tomlinson or chubby Spencer Reid concepts, ideas, or requests you can. The only thing I don’t want is anything with full on s3x and outright f33derism. Any ship is fine as well.

Also feel free to ask me questions as long as they are respectful

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Prices We're Willing to Pay (3/?)

Title: The Prices We’re Willing to Pay

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Inspired by Multiverse of Madness. What if it had all gone differently?

Chapter 3: The Avengers

Summary: Peggy and Steve get recalled to save the universe. 

A/N: And if the last chapter proved I could do this, this is the chapter/movie that reminded me this is going to be HARD AS HELL. In order to maintain my own sanity, I will not be re-writing the entire movie, which gives you, the reader, a lot of wiggle room to decide how you think things went. I’m only going to work on what I feel is interesting and important to the story I’m telling. If I don’t talk about it, you can assume it happens similarly to the movie. Just insert your favorite Peggy headcanon. 

For Steggy Week 2k23 Day 6: Multiverse/What If...?

~*~

Peggy was sitting at the kitchen table, steaming mug between her hands when he walked through the door, tossing his gym bag to the side. “Why are you up?” he asked gently, even though he couldn’t see her; the light from the kitchen radiating through the apartment was enough clue.

“Same as you, I suppose,” she muttered, sipping at her mug, waiting for him to join her. 

He leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest, serious as his gaze fell on her. “What was it?”

“Same as always,” she replied, shutting her eyes and shaking her head at the ghostly image of Red Skull hovering over her that she couldn’t get out of her memory no matter if she was asleep or awake. “You?”

His head fell to his chest, eyes closed. “Bucky.” 

Peggy pushed away from the table, taking the few steps between them slowly and pressing her forehead to his. “I suppose we slept for seventy years. What’s a few sleepless nights?”

He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight in the dim kitchen, the quiet solitude of the night wrapping around them. 

She slipped her arms around his waist, falling deeper into his embrace, content. The clothes of the future were so soft, so thin, she thought she could feel every plane of his body through them, and she didn’t much mind it. They still hadn’t fully figured out how to navigate exactly what they were here in the future where ranks no longer mattered and powerful women were considered somewhat normal, where a relationship wouldn’t be frowned upon when they’d been prepared to fight the rest of their lives side by side, hiding what they felt for one another except for furtive glances and desperate moments alone. 

“We have to talk,” he murmured against her hair. “Fury found me.”

She huffed through her nose, laying her head on his shoulder. “Smoke and mirrors, he is. He knows very well where we live if he’d wanted to have a chat.”

“Seems to be a little more urgent than that.” Steve pulled back, looking unsure and reticent. “I don’t know what we should do.”

Peggy sighed, moving to turn on the coffee machine for Steve as she pushed her shoulders back. “You and I both know that we really don’t have a choice, do we?” She focused on her task of pulling out the coffee and the filters and setting up the machine that she was just starting to get familiar with. “Waking us up was an investment. They’ll want a return on that. I would.” 

Steve sat heavily at the table. “I think he might let one of us out, if we could convince him.”

She leaned against the counter, rolling his empty mug between her hands while the coffee maker began to steam to life. “Perhaps.” She shrugged, setting the mug in front of him. “That is, if he even wants me.” She sighed, sitting back in front of her own mug and wrapping her hands around it. “Lady Britain is little more than a biscuit brand now.”

She wasn’t sure why it stung so much- she’d always hated the moniker, but seeing that in the future the adventures of Captain America garnered radio plays and trading cards and museum halls and Lady Britain had been nearly lost to history, despite being at his side for every mission, brought back familiar feelings of helplessness and frustration. 

“They are some pretty tasty cookies, you have to admit,” Steve tossed out as he leaned back, smiling at her as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. 

She chuckled, smiling despite herself. She took a slow sip of her tea. “Far better than K rations.”

“I want you,” he whispered after a quiet moment. “Even if Fury doesn’t, you know I don’t trust anyone else with my back.”

“Neither do I.” She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “But we may not have that choice.” 

~*~

Peggy moved around the small lab, the energy of Doctor Banner behind her making her anxious. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” Banner asked from his workbench across the room, not even pausing in his typing. 

“Should I be?” Peggy replied quickly, looking up from the data pad Romanoff had given her with the information they had on the mission. 

Banner glanced at her, but resumed his typing. “Most people are.”

Peggy set down the pad and leaned on her elbows, scrolling through the files. “I’m not most people.”

He chuckled defensively. “No, no I suspect you’re not.” He stopped finally and pulled off his glasses. “What happened to you and Captain Rogers should have killed you.”

She smiled gently, looking up from the live feed of Germany where the Quinjet was just arriving. “Same could be said of yourself, couldn’t it?” 

Banner smiled, genuinely this time, and turned back to his work. “If you would be amenable, I’d have some questions for you after this is over. I mean, there’s quite a bit of information on Captain Rogers but almost none on you.”

“Mostly by design, I assure you,” Peggy replied a little shortly, face hardening. 

Banner’s tone shifted as he turned, contrite and aware he’d hit a nerve. “I’m sorry. That was…” He took a gentle breath. “I’m always looking for ways to… to fix me, ya know?” He shook his head, suddenly so small and anxious again, even though he’d just started to look at home in his lab without anyone else there to bother them. “I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

“I’m happy to help,” Peggy whispered, softening as she moved over to show him the camera feed on the pad. “Physically there’s very little difference between myself and Captain Rogers, but I’ll help if I can.”

“Must kinda suck,” he nearly smiled, trying to recapture some of the light banter they’d had, “to wake up and find out you’d been forgotten about.”

“I was a spy long before I was Lady Britain,” Peggy started, smiling softly. “A spy desperately hopes they’ll never be known.” She shrugged, turning her attention to the screen. “It does sting a bit, but there have been far more things that have been harder to deal with.”

“Well, I’m happy to listen.” He shrugged, looking as Loki came out of the museum. “I know what it’s like when you don’t have anyone to listen.”

Peggy looked at him, watching his face turn serious as he watched the feed from Germany. “Same goes for you,” she replied quietly. 

Banner’s smile was brief, melting as focused on the feed. They watched with bated breath as Steve, then Tony, fought Loki, until the man gave up. 

“Seemed….”

“Easy,” Peggy finished, sharing his skepticism. She pulled the pad back and sat at the table. “We should keep looking,” she muttered. 

“Haven’t stopped.” He looked over the results for a few minutes before looking back at her. “So… you two…”

Peggy looked up, uncomfortable. “Us?”

He stuttered, once again uncomfortable. “You’re… well, I guess I’m asking…”

“There wasn’t time for that during the war,” she muttered, focusing on the reports populating before her eyes as the Quinjet made its way back to them. “There wasn’t time for dating or marriage or promises of tomorrow when none of us were sure there was going to be a tomorrow.” Peggy looked up to see Banner nodding at his computer, fingers tapping over the keys but not really typing anything in. She set the pad down and turned to him. “It was always just… eventually. And then we woke up and here we are and neither of us want to be the other’s only option, but…” She tried to smile when he looked up. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not for anything. Never has been.” 

Bruce smiled gently at her. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just... you two seem like you’re already married or something.”

“Might as well be.” Peggy stood, moving around the small lab. “We’re figuring it out.” She stopped, looking at the data flying across one of his screens, not knowing anything about what it meant. “What about you?”

He laughed and set his glasses on his nose, typing frantically. “No, uh, there’s not… I don’t…”

Peggy looked up at him, remembering so many lonely nights as she traveled as Howard’s secretary, as she’d been a spy in the SOE and SSR, and felt her heart break a little. “Alone isn’t easy.”

“No,” he muttered, eyes on the data, “but sometimes it’s safer.”

Peggy took a deep breath and smiled. “I’ve been told I’m quite hard to kill, if that makes any difference.” Her voice grew quiet, “and I quite miss having friends.”

Bruce looked up, mouth open, ready to answer, when the data pad beeped and Natasha’s voice came in over the coms. They both moved over to it to hear that Thor had shown up. He didn’t look at her, but tipped his head as he stood next to her. “After all this is over, it might be nice to have a friend, too.” 

~*~

Steve moved in, frustrated, with Peggy right behind him. “Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are,” Tony replied, looking them up and down. 

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny.” Steve turned to Banner, only slightly apologetic. “No offense, doctor.”

“No, it's alright.” Banner smiled, amused. “I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things.” 

Tony circled the room, talking to Banner and avoiding them both. “You're tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut.”

Peggy could see them starting to amp up for a battle of wills, but wasn’t ready to step in quite yet, despite how frustrated Steve was as he spoke. “And you need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rounded the tables, unable to stand still. “You think I'm not? Why did Fury call us  and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

“You think Fury’s hiding something?” Peggy finally chimed in, curious. 

“He's a spy.” He looked her up and down, leaning on the table. “He's the spy. His secrets have secrets.” Tony stopped and pointed to Banner. “It's bugging him too, isn't it?”

Bruce hemmed and hawed, avoiding eye contact. “Uh...I just wanna finish my work here and...”

Peggy spoke up, surprised she agreed. “Stark’s not wrong.” Steve looked at her, confused, but she raised her eyebrows and gave a slight shrug in her defense. “I had more secrets than I could keep track of some days. Doctor Banner, what are your thoughts?” Peggy encouraged.

“'A warm light for all mankind,’ Loki's jab at Fury about the cube.” He fidgeted, but turned to them, more sure of himself. 

Steve nodded, still unconvinced. “I heard it.”

Bruce pointed at Tony, his hesitant stammer gone. “Well, I think that was meant for you. Even if Barton didn't post that all over the news.” 

“The Stark Tower? That big ugly—” Steve stammered, Tony’s stare enough to remind him of his manners, “...building in New York?” 

Bruce picked up the thread as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “It's powered by Stark Reactors, self- sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?” 

He couldn’t help but preen a little as he responded. “That's just the prototype. I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now.” 

Banner turned to Peggy, hoping she’d understand. “So, why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project? I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?” 

“Even better question,” Peggy started, “is why Tony hasn’t been involved with SHIELD from the start.” Peggy looked around, jaw set. “Howard, no doubt, knew what you were capable of from a young age.” Her tone grew grim. “What was he protecting you from?”

“My father? Protect me? Ha!” His sardonic bark of a laugh only barely hid the dark truth of their relationship from those around him. “I should probably look into that once my decryption programmer finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files.”

If Steve was surprised before, this surprised him even more. “I'm sorry, did you say...?”

“Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide.” He smiled insufferably for the seriousness of the conversation, holding out a bag of blueberries. “Blueberry?”

Steve shook his head, walking away with his hands on his hips, trying to calm himself before he turned back to Tony. “ Yet you're confused about why they  didn't want you around?”

He shrugged, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not possible.”

Steve kept pacing, laying out his own thoughts as much as he could gather them. “I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war,  and if we don't stay focused, he'll           succeed. We have orders, we should follow them.”

Tony stepped closer to Steve, shaking his head. “Following is not really my style.”

Steve smiled sarcastically, tired of fighting to keep his composure as Tony egged him on. “And you're all about style, aren't you?”

Tony closed the distance between them, his frustration bubbling over. “Of the people in this room, which one is; A. wearing a spangly outfit, and B. not of use?”

“That’s out of line,” Peggy called sharply, stepping between them. “Both of you are out of line.” She looked between the two of them like they were small children she was scolding. “Fury or Loki or both doesn't matter if we’re fighting amongst ourselves.”

Bruce sighed, stepping in to try to keep the calm. “Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?”

They all stood there, silent, for a long moment before Steve shook his head. “Just find the cube.”

His steps were heavy as he turned and left. Peggy followed, eyes sharp on Tony before running to catch up with Steve as he headed to the hull. 

~*~

Peggy pursed her lips, looking over a box’s listed inventory. “He’s Howard’s son, did you really expect him to be a paragon of kindness and virtue?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know, I guess I expected…”

“Howard. Excitement. Recognition.” Peggy supplied the words, enough of her own disappointment in them clear as she lifted then closed the lid on a case of ordinary tools. “I was hoping for something, as well. It seemed like a chance to—”

“Start over?” Steve looked over at her, frustration clear. “Like if he was just like his father, maybe we could have been friends or—”

Peggy laughed, moving towards him. “I have news for you, he is just like his father.” She leaned back on a case as Steve turned, ready to offer a rebuttal. “You didn’t spend as much time as I did with him, Steve. He was crass. Rude. Drank far too much far too often and knew how to use his charm to get what he wanted.” She sighed, pushing her hand through her hair, sad and missing her friend. “Under it all there was a good person, you knew that man and so did I, but so very, very few did. He didn’t let people see that man until he knew them, and even then his tendencies to be a narcissistic asshole were always just below the surface.” 

Steve’s mouth twisted; he knew very well what kind of man Howard had been. “So, I’m just supposed to give Tony a pass for that?”

“No.” She took a deep breath and moved to check another case. “Quite frankly, I’m about one more trite, rude quip away from giving him a black eye.” 

Steve’s light laugh bolstered her heart. “At least I’m not the only one.” He lifted another lid and his laughter died, causing her to turn from her own case of standard issue body armor. “He was right.”

Peggy stepped over to him, looking over his shoulder to frown at the Hydra weapons. “Hate to say it, but I’m not surprised.” She lifted the Hydra weapon from its box, frowning. “Seems he also has his father’s trait of being annoyingly right.” 

His jaw clenched; she could feel the anger pouring through him. “Why would Fury hide this?”

Peggy sighed, unsurprised. She’d seen the memos that crossed Howard’s desk. She knew exactly why an agency would want to collect, study, and use Hydra’s weapons. “Because Howard had wanted to, and neither of us were there to tell him what an enormously stupid idea it was.”

~*~

The explosion rocked through the carrier, sending them all reeling and opening the floor below Peggy’s feet. She gripped the edge of one of the tables, holding tight as her legs dangled into the gaping hole, the carrier evening out finally. 

“Put on the suit.” Steve helped Tony out the door and turned. “Peg?” 

She pulled herself up from the hole, then turned to lay and look in it. “Banner and Romanoff both went down. I’m going to take the long way.” She looked up at him as she pushed to her feet and followed him out the door. “You stick with Stark.”

A few flights of stairs and a few more bruises later, Peggy found Natasha and Bruce. 

“Don’t change,” she heard Natasha muttering, trying to pull herself from the wreckage as Bruce couldn’t help but morph before her eyes. 

“We’re getting you out of here,” Peggy replied as Bruce lumbered off, growling. She lifted the pipe without difficulty and helped Natasha up.

Natasha tried to object weakly. “But he’s—”

“And you're hurt, and you know more about this place than the rest of us.” Peggy wished she had more time to know this woman, to understand her and trust her in the light of her blossoming mistrust of Fury, but she had little choice. “Let Thor worry about Bruce, he’s the least likely to be injured if they go face to face. We’ve been attacked. What do we have to protect? What will they go after?”

Natasha looked back over her shoulder, but then nodded and limped a step forward. “I know where I would go.”

Peggy followed behind, hands out in case the woman fell. “That's a good enough start for me.”

~*~

Steve’s voice was small in her com, hit with another loss so soon. “Close it.”

Peggy pressed the staff into the reactor, pushing as hard as she could, trying not to think about what that meant for Tony. 

She felt energy pulse through her, familiar energy that made her mind flash back to a time she wanted to desperately forget. Red Skull flashed before her eyes and she almost lost her grip on the staff. 

She felt the energy consume her like it had the day they’d gone down. She felt the scepter vibrate in her hands and it hummed through her body. The power of these two objects overwhelmed her, scared her. 

Her fear was enough of a reminder that she needed to push harder. They had to win, no matter what. Humanity had no other option. 

She gave another push, screaming with effort, until the staff reached the center of the reactor. 

Everything exploded in blue light. She felt it ripple through her body as she was pushed back. She landed hard against the glass of the building, right at the very edge of the platform. Gasping she reached out, grounding herself. 

“Peg! Peggy!” Steve’s voice was loud in her ear. “What happened?”

“Reactor’s down.” She huffed out, still trying to catch her breath. “I’m fine.” She took another shallow breath as Selvig helped her up. “Stark?”

Steve sounded hopeful. “Son of a gun.”

~*~

Peggy stopped Howard with a hand at his wrist, tired surprise written all over his face. “Yeah?”

They had only a few feet of privacy, standing outside the Shwarma place, gearing up to resume helping the police and SWAT teams with search and rescue. She looked to Steve, who was in deep conversation with an officer, before turning back to Tony. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

Tony shrugged, shaking his head. “I think we can call it even now.”

“No,” Peggy replied gently. “We know you’re not Howard. And I don’t know what he’d said or done to make you dislike us- dislike Steve so much,” she started, holding up her hand, “but we’d like to start over.”

“My dad—” Tony sighed. 

“Your father was a grade A bastard.” Her words surprised him into silence and she took the opportunity to continue. “I knew him when he was young and he was as brilliant as he was boorish.” She smiled gently. “But he was a friend, and when I knew him there was still a good man in there. But you knew him a lot longer than either of us did.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, I suppose I did.” He nodded, looking around before he let the next bit slip out quietly. “I think he was hurt. A lot. And he hurt a lot of people. Hurt me, really, because of it. You two dying- disappearing, whatever- hurt him.” 

“I can’t change whatever he’s said to you,” Peggy whispered. “I can only imagine based on the little I knew of him.” Peggy repeated herself, emphatically. “We know you’re not Howard, and Steve isn’t the Comic-book goody-two-shoes he’s been made out to be.”

“And you?” Tony asked, genuinely interested. “Are you not the super-spy Peggy Carter who could lift a tank and file reports with the best of them?”

Peggy smiled weakly, the memories flooding to her brain. “Perhaps. But did he ever tell you about the coffee I made?”

“No…” he drew out. 

“Said it should be classified as a war crime on more than one occasion.” She smiled, lightly. “I’d like to get to know you, Tony.” She took a deep breath. “And yes, I’d like to know more about my friend who I lost, and who seemed to have lost his way, but I’d very much like to get to know you.”

Tony nodded, uncomfortable with the outpouring of emotion, especially while he was still so raw from the battle. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He tipped his head to where the rest of the group was waiting and started moving towards them. “We’ll, uh, have a game night or something. I’ll have Pepper set it up, she’s better at that stuff than I am.”

“Pepper?” Peggy asked, stepping carefully through the wreckage next to him. 

“Yeah- uh,” Tony scratched his beard, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “Steve’s got you,” he finally landed on, “and I’ve got Pepper.”

Peggy smiled, she’d already learned something new about him. 

~*~

True to her word, Peggy met Banner in Stark’s lab, ready to prove him whatever data he could while she and Steve took a break from helping with the clean up. A week later, there was still more to do throughout the city and there would be for months and maybe years to come. The tests were fast, and simple. By the end, she was smiling at Banner over the mug of coffee Steve had just brought her, confident she’d found a new friend. 

He smiled back. “Well, if you should develop any interesting symptoms—”

“Doctor Banner, I thank you for your concern but I—What?” Peggy stopped speaking as Banner and Steve both stared at her, open mouthed. “Why are you gaping like that?”

“Peg…” Steve’s mouth worked for just a moment before he pointed at her hand. “Your coffee.”

“Yes, I—” She stopped as she looked down, fully expecting to see her mug safely in her hand where she felt it, where she knew it to be, but instead it was floating in the air a few inches away, steam rising. “Oh,” she whispered, barely breathing. She could feel it in her hand, but at the same time she now knew that she could feel the air around it, feel the force of the mug pressing on the nothingness just as sure as she could feel the nothingness and know, know, that she could move that nothing to do whatever she wanted it to do, like hold up her mug. 

“Are you…” Steve didn’t have to finish his question. 

“Doctor Banner,” Peggy started, slowly extending her fingers and watching as she willed the mug slowly away from her and down to the table, then drew a gentle figure eight with it with nothing more than the twitch of her finger, “if you have a moment I do believe I’ve developed some interesting symptoms.”

“Yeah,” he laughed out, nodding with the hit of a smile, “I’d say so.”

[toa-kohutti]

A Gift The Great Spirit Left Unnamed Chapter 3:

Awake

Ohmeni wakes up, tells stories, and gets put back together.

I was used to snapping awake. I had to when I was out in the wild in case of danger. But instead of danger, all that woke me was the clatter of pottery. My eyes shot open, scanning the room for any threats instinctively, but only finding Gava hastily righting the pots on the rickety shelf in a panic. 

“Gava!” Pysie’s voice came out as a hissing whisper. “You’ll wake her!” Pysie sat cross-legged on the floor, now wearing an undecorated blue Kiril, with similarly smooth shapes to her Amana. It was clear which mask she preferred, but my first thought was how either mask looked fine on her, suiting her the same way the legendary Lhikan’s Hau suited him.  

Gava looked at me, a frown forming behind her mask. “It looks like I already have,” she mumbled. 

“It’s fine. I need to be up anyway,” I said, shifting into a sitting position. Once I had my weight down on the ground, I stopped. The motion was smooth, and easy, with practically no effort as I tucked my legs in and sat. I felt... amazing. I looked at my arms, moving them, wiggling my fingers, noticing how different everything felt. It was as if I had left the water and the ease of motion returned, which was wonderful — if a bit ironic, given this newfound weightlessness was given to me by a Toa of Water.  

“Are you okay?” Gava asked, watching me marvel at my own movements. “…And I’m sorry for waking you up.”  

“I feel… amazing,” I said, my voice almost sparkling with wonder. “I haven’t felt this good since I was first made a Toa.”  

“I’m glad,” Pysie said, her voice full of relief. “And it’s no wonder, too. You haven’t given yourself rest in a long time, have you?” As I turned to look at her, the smile formed again, the corner of her eyes lifting behind her mask.  

The question made me feel a little silly to admit, even though normally it was a point of pride. “Well, to be honest,” I said, frowning a little. “I haven’t. How could you tell?”  

“You were… wracked with scar tissue,” Pysie murmured. “You hadn’t let yourself properly heal from many wounds.” Her voice dropped into a tone of concern. “That’s reckless. If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t help other people.”  

“I never really had the opportunity.” I said, not lying, but only barely. I had opportunities to relax, to rest and calm down, but I chose not to take them. That way, I could help more and do more good. It was my duty as a Toa, after all.  “I’ve been too occupied with surviving.”

“You should take the chance to rest more,” Pysie said, sincerely. “And you really should let me fix the rest of your armor.”  

“No, no, I can’t," I said, quietly, taking a look at the nearly-mended piece of armor that once covered my back, laid across her lap. As Pysie returned to it, I watched the metal knit itself back together, sealing its own damage. It still had dents and scratches, but it looked strong and dependable once more. “I don’t want to impose.”  

“You wouldn’t be imposing!” Gava cut in, now sitting on the floor next to us and carving into a small stone tablet. Her hands etched quick, somewhat messy circles and lines into the slab, taking note of... something. “We’re glad you’re visiting. You’re the most exciting thing to come to our village since-”

Pysie cut Gava off. “Do not bring up the Mukau incident,” she groaned. “That was horrible!” One of her hands went to slap the top of her mask with a muted clunk while the other continued the repair, reforming my armor with her softly glowing fingers channeling the power of her shimmering mask. 

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.” I chuckled softly, my hands instinctively reaching towards my back, wanting to fiddle with the flax that covered me. “I’ve seen a lot.” 

Gava stopped what she was doing, and looked at me, with an inquisitive gaze coming from behind her mask. “...Where have you been to?” She asked, her voice barely hiding her wonder. 

“Gava, don’t bother our guest.” Pysie scolded, somehow retaining her polite tone. 

“No, no.” I said, doing my best to be kind. “She can ask. I have to wait for you to finish anyway, don’t I?” I said, still watching Pysie. “I don’t get to talk often, anyway.” Gava looked to Pysie for approval, her glance shooting back to me for a moment as she barely hid her excitement. 

“Alright then.” Pysie conceded, nodding a little. Gava quickly sat down in front of me, looking up with inquisitive, wonder-filled eyes. 

“I’ve never been off the Southern Continent, and barely ever outside of this village. What’s the rest of the world like?” She said, giving me her full, undivided attention. “What’s on the other side of this continent? Have you been there? Oh, have you seen Metru Nui?” She bombarded me with questions, her excitement overflowing. 

“Yes, I’ve been to Metru Nui,” I laughed a little, appreciating her excitement. “At least, to Le-Metru. The Moto-Hub is big, way bigger than you’d think just looking at the carvings.” 

“Is it true that everything in Le-Metru is fast? The Le-Matoran traders I’ve met are all really impatient, and say that we’re really slow. Their boats are super fast too!” Gava rattled off responses faster than I’d ever seen, her enthusiasm making me smile. "And why do they talk so funny?"

“Well, the tubes sure are. But if you want to talk about fast…” I talked and talked with Gava, telling her three words of my experiences for every ten words of her excited questions. She grabbed another tablet and started scratching things into it, taking notes about everything I said, forming messy circles in the stone as we talked. Then another, and another, until she ran out, to which Pysie reacted with soft disapproval.

Before we knew it, a long time had passed. Neither of us had noticed until we had been talking for so long until she looked at the lopsided pile of tablets on the floor, each with hastily carved, jagged shapes.

“...I took up a lot of your time with that.” Gava said, clearly a little embarrassed once she noticed what had happened. She started to gather up the pile of tablets, only knocking them down more with a soft clatter. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” I said, warmly. “I don’t get the chance to talk about my life that often.” 

“You have more important things to do, Toa.” She mumbled, retreating into the fearful respect she was supposed to have, piling tablet upon tablet into a pile that was almost too big to carry. Just then, we all had our attention caught by a sound.

“GHAVIALIA!” A scratchy yell came from the outside of the hut, muffled by the walls of greenery. 

“Oh no, Turaga Puigren needs me!” Gava panicked, hastily shoving her things in the corner of the hut with a loud clatter and scrambling out of the door. Pysie shook her head in quiet disapproval. 

“I… probably ought to go,” I said, quietly. “I don’t want to take up any more space than I already do.” I became aware of my stature making things… difficult, to say the least. 

“Not without this.” Pysie said, holding up the plate of my armor. It looked incredible. The wear and tear on it was now near-nonexistent, as if it were only days old. The color had returned, the desaturated blue shining in the dim light of the hut, and the shape had returned to the form it took when I was made a Toa. I couldn’t help but marvel at her work for a time, before speaking absentmindedly.

“...Yeah,” I said, feeling my jaw hang open, and immediately feeling like an idiot. “You did… really good.” Any sense of eloquence had left me once more, turning me into a stammering mess of amazement at the healer's talent with both masks.

“Well, come here and let me put it on you.” Pysie said, a stifled giggle coming from her, no doubt at me. I did as she asked, turning around and moving towards her so she could unwrap the flax that still covered my torso. 

When her hands gently gripped the fabric and began to unwind it, my body shuddered softly. As the layers came off, my muscles were bare to the world once more, vulnerable, but strong again. I could feel her hands close, but not touching me, not yet, hovering around my exposed back. Every motion she made, only a Rahi hair's-length away from me, built a quiet tension. Her fingers barely traced my spine, before moving along the muscles connecting my arms, and finally arriving at my sides. Then, suddenly, her finger made contact with my muscles, and three things happened.

First, I felt a tiny wave of relief, letting out the buildup in my body and feeling a fraction of weight lift off me. Then, I heard a quiet “eep!” coming from Pysie. Finally, I had processed what had happened. My heart jumped as I realized that she completed a circuit, and my power had given her a tiny shock.

“I-I’m sorry!” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t even know-” My panic was cut off by the feeling of her delicate fingers touching my flesh again, this time to no sudden, involuntary discharge. 

“It’s alright,” She said, reassuringly, but her voice had the faintest tone of being startled from the sudden electricity. “I’m alright.” Even when I had inadvertently hurt her, she retained her excellent manners. “It was just a little shock. I’ve felt worse, after all,” As guilty as I felt, the care I had for her caused me to hope in the back of my mind that tiny shock was the worst she’d ever been through. “Now just relax so I can put this on.” 

I took a deep breath. My lungs filled painlessly, no longer having to work around a foreign object shredding me from the inside. It felt good, and like I was whole again for a moment. I breathed in and out a few times, letting my body relax before I filled my lungs again, waiting for Pysie to affix my backplate, softly nodding to her in approval. 

As I held my breath, Pysie gently pressed the armor to my body. I started to exhale, the air slowly pushing out of the sides of my mask as the slightly warm metal touched my flesh. A shiver, but not one like the cold, shot up my spine before calming down. She was closing me up, finishing me, sealing my weak parts off from the dangers of the world, and yet I somehow felt vulnerable again. It wasn’t a fear of her hurting me, I wasn’t even sure that it was a fear at all, but it was almost overwhelming for what should be routine. Something in my heartlight surged, some deep emotion was stirring, but I couldn’t possibly explain what. It was like happiness but heavy, my soul being pulled like gravity, a… 

“Relax and take another deep breath,” My thoughts were interrupted by her voice again. At first I wanted to say I am relaxed, I did take a deep breath , but before those thoughts could even be said, she spoke again and offered a quiet, polite rebuttal. “You’re shaking.” 

“I’m sorry, Pysie,” I said, before taking that deep breath again, and consciously stopping my trembles. I didn't even know why I was shaking, but I did my best to put it out of my mind. It was only a tiny push before the plate locked in, fixed and securely sealed on my back. All of the air left me this time, freely, and I felt my body finally restored, whole again. It was right once more. “...Thank you.” My voice was filled with a deep sincerity, and I know I couldn’t mean it more. 

“It was my pleasure.” As I turned to Pysie, I could see that smile behind her mask, her yellow eyes warm and appreciative as I could see them through the eyeholes. “And if you ever need help, don’t be afraid to come back here again.” 

“I think I will.” I smiled to match hers, before I leaned over to grab my bag and my handaxes. “But I have a job to do for now.” 

“I’m glad,” Pysie said, stifling a tiny giggle at my self-importance. "Come visit me when you have some time off from being a hero." She took my hand and gently squeezed it in gratitude, the metal covering it warm against my cool armor.  After holding it for a moment, just long enough to feel that warmth start to seep into my own hand, she released it, and sat back down in the hut. 

“I’ll see you again.” I turned, starting to exit the hut, and shooting one final, thankful glance at Pysie. I waded through a small crowd of Matoran, watching Gava help a wounded peer to the hut, shoulders together as she balanced their limp. I waved goodbye to her, as well as all of the Matoran who shuffled around to make way for me with a quiet clamor of goodbyes and noises of amazement, before finally meeting eyes with the Turaga. 

The Turaga - Puigren, if I remembered Gava correctly - met eyes with me through her noble Pakari. I took a moment, getting down on one knee, showing her respect. She said nothing at first, and when I lifted my head, she gave me a sagely nod. Her armor was a tarnished silver over blue and… white. She was like me, a being of Lightning. 

“Did our Koro treat you well, Toa?” She said, a voice weighed down by time and scratched from years of probable overuse. 

“Yes,” I said, quietly, returning to my feet. “Pysie and Gava were excellent hosts. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” The Turaga made a soft noise, a quiet, creaky mumble of approval and pride. 

“I’ll make sure they know that.” She gently tapped her walking stick, her Badge of Office, a tree branch with a shining blue gem entwined in it into the ground to signify her point. “And where will you go next, Toa?” 

“I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “Wherever the Great Spirit calls me.” I hoped that answer wasn’t unsatisfactory, hoping that I had earned the respect of my kinswoman, a sister in my element. I was met with a warm, almost rattly chuckle. 

“An excellent answer!” She said, before stepping aside, thumping her staff on the ground once more, and pointing it towards the wide coast. “Go on, then. Go where you’re needed. And continue to do great things, Toa.” I thought to myself that I must have earned her respect, and felt the tiniest bit proud of myself. I nodded, and smiled behind my mask. 

I stepped out of the village, trying to bring myself back into the mindset of the wandering Toa who entered it. As I began to wander, looking for a new path, I could barely stop thinking about my experiences with Pysie, telling the stories to Gava, and experiencing the respect of the Turaga. A piece of that feeling I felt with Pysie putting my back together came back. I couldn’t tell what it was at first, again. I walked, and I walked, thinking little of where I was going, until I found a place to rest for a small time.

…It must have been yearning.