#i like ships i like making two silly characters kiss ! but when one ship grips my mind terribly its harder for me to draw anything else..

[pineappical]

What are your Ted lasso ships, if you don’t mind me asking? I love your art but I’m curious what ships you enjoy, and whether you’ve drawn all the ships you like or if you have some ships you enjoy but haven’t drawn.

I’m a huge fan of Jamie and Dani as a ship, but I don’t think there are any artists who draw that so now I’m just curious what the other ships are that people really like. :)

oh!! this is a fun question! :D i actually like two aces (Jamie/Dani) as a ship too and yeah i agree that they dont get drawn enough honestly 😭 but for my ships, Ted/Trent is very obviously one of my favorites, and with liking Ted obsessively i normally just like ships including him like Ted/Rebecca or Ted/Beard. just basically most of the well known ships i could get into (like Roy/Jamie/Keeley [try-angles!] for example) :-]

also i have.. SO many characters id love to draw but just havent had the motivation to do so which SUUUCKS because i really really love Jan Maas and Moe Bumbercatch (not as a ship! i just think theyre very silly) 💛💛

[august-anon]

Here's a dialogue prompt if you want it... "More please?" with ler!Kravitz and lee!Taako?

I did not really edit this, please be gentle with me lol. Thank you for being so patient, I hope it was worth the wait! Thank you so much for the prompt!

---

Ask and Receive

Fandom: The Adventure Zone

Ship(s): Taakitz

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Taako/Ler!Kravitz

Word Count: 1631 words

Summary: Kravitz is a bit too smart for Taako's own good. Taako should know by now that he can't keep secrets from Kravitz.

[ao3 link]

-------------------------------------------

It wasn’t fair how smart Kravitz was, in Taako’s extremely humble opinion.

It seemed like he could see through anything and everything. He had managed to dig up almost all of Taako’s secrets and slip through all his lies, white or not, and he had done it with such grace and gentleness that Taako couldn’t even be mad at him. In fact, it was almost disgustingly romantic, how he could see past Taako’s walls so easily.

But there were still a few secrets Taako held closely to his chest. A few secrets from their hundred years of plane-hopping, a few secrets he promised friends he’d keep (and as much of an asshole Taako knew he was, he kept his promises), and a few secrets of his own that he couldn’t bear to part with just yet.

Most of which were just painfully silly.

And one of which, Taako was beginning to think was more trouble than it was worth to keep.

A guy had cravings, after all. Cravings that Kravitz could easily solve with a few wiggling fingers and a handful of teasing words, or vice versa on some days. And it wasn’t like Kravitz had never tickled him, or that he had never tickled Kravitz, but it was always painfully brief. It left him feeling more starved than if he hadn’t had the playful contact at all.

But Taako was nothing if not prideful. There was nothing that would get him to admit it.

Well, almost nothing.

Because Kravitz was smart, as previously stated, and unfairly so. Kravitz picked up on Taako’s behavior. Kravitz was good at learning what made Taako tick. It was only natural that Kravitz would pick up on his little quirk eventually, try as he might to hide it.

So when Kravitz pulled back from his most recent tickle-attack (that Taako may or may not have deliberately provoked him into), eyeing Taako with a calculating look, Taako knew he was in trouble.

“I’m not so sure I should reward you for bad behavior,” Kravitz said.

Taako swallowed insteading of jumping straight into his defense, trying to keep himself from stuttering nervously. “Reward? You think that torture is a reward?” He asked.

Kravitz frowned, though there was a glint in his eye and one of his dimples was jumping. “I suppose I read your reactions wrong, then. Though, if it really is torture for you, I won’t do it anymore. I’ll have to find another playful punishment for you.”

A wounded noise escaped Taako before he could contain it. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, and felt his cheeks flush. Kravitz looked down at him and raised an eyebrow.

“That is what you want, isn’t it, Taako?” He said. “I wouldn’t want to torture you.”

Taako pressed his lips together in a thin line, huffing through his nose. He had just dug his own grave. Now he had two options: tell Kravitz the truth, or live the rest of his days under this lie and never get tickled by his boyfriend again.

And oh, how he wanted to be tickled by Kravitz. He had musician’s fingers, long and nimble. They could do wicked things to Taako, things that he spent hours daydreaming about. Taako watched as they tapped in a staccato rhythm against Kravitz’s knee, teasing and tempting. Kravitz knew exactly what he was doing.

But Taako was a stubborn elf. If his secret was going to be out, it was going to be out on his terms. He would not blush at Kravitz’s teasing. He was not giving in. It was simply… time to show his hand, so to speak. So Taako jutted out his chin, defiant and proud in the falsest of ways, and refused to hide behind his hands as he so desperately wanted to. He let his fingers twist into his skirt, the only outward sign of his anxiety, to keep his hands firmly in his lap.

“I don’t hate it,” Taako eventually managed to force out.

Kravitz raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you lied to me?”

Taako bit his lip. “Just a little.”

Kravitz crossed his arms, eyebrow still infuriatingly raised. “I’m not sure I should reward you for that behavior, either.”

Taako deflated, slumping into the couch and whining. He finally gave in, bringing his hands up to cover his flushing face, though he knew his red ears would give him away. He heard Kravitz chuckle and he curled into himself even further.

“Oh, come now, dear, don’t be like that. Maybe if you ask nicely, you’ll get what you want.”

Taako groaned and slipped further down the couch. He felt Kravitz shift on the couch, and Taako assumed he had turned toward Taako expectantly. Taako swallowed his pride.

“More, please?”

“More what, dear?”

Taako’s hands flew off his face. “Goddammit, Krav, just tickle me!”

Kravitz huffed. “I should make you ask nicely, but…”

Before Taako could process it, Kravitz had pulled his legs up so he was lying lengthwise on the couch and straddled his lap to pin him. Taako yelped and raised his hands in defense, but Kravitz quickly grabbed them and pulled them off to the side, out of the way. Taako’s eyes went wide as he gazed up at Kravitz.

Kravitz smirked. “Now that we’re past that stage of things, why don’t you tell me where you’d like to be tickled?”

Taako choked, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. Kravitz’s smirk stretched into a grin and a shiver went down Taako’s spine.

“Well? I can’t tickle you unless you tell me.”

Taako desperately wished he could cover his face. His ears flicked in embarrassment as he wiggled and squirmed under Kravitz, tugging on his captive arms. He had no escape.

Then again, he did ask for this.

“Stomach?” He practically whispered.

Kravitz’s free hand immediately travelled to his belly, untucking his shirt and slipping under it without hesitation. Taako was squealing before Kravitz’s hand even touched down. His body jolted when Kravitz started scratching at his stomach, his struggling and tugging on his arms getting even more weak.

Taako was a wizard, okay. He couldn’t be expected to break out of Kravitz’s grip, and especially not under these circumstances.

“You’re adorable like this,” Kravitz said over his laughter. “I don’t know why you tried to hide it for so long.”

Taako wanted to tell Kravitz to shut up, but he was sure that would earn him another bout of I shouldn’t reward you for that, so he wisely kept his mouth shut. Metaphorically, at least. Physically, his mouth was open in a bright, giggly grin, and he had no hope of keeping it shut any time soon.

Taako half-wished he could roll off the edge of the couch, but Kravitz’s legs kept him firmly in place. He writhed like a worm under the single hand Kravitz had on his stomach, the touch just dancing along the line of “too light.” The sparky, zinging sensations could be delicious in their own way, of course, but they were a very specific kind of torture, and Taako wasn’t sure if he could handle that on top of all the teasing. Then, Kravitz’s touch lightened even further as he wiggled his fingers against Taako’s lower belly, and Taako arched his back with a high-pitched squeal.

“No no no!” Taako squealed, kicking his legs. “Please, please!”

Kravitz laughed above him. “What? I thought you wanted this!”

“Too light!” Taako cried out.

Kravitz laughed again, only lightening his touch further. “What, dear? Can’t take it?”

Taako’s giggles were frantic and bubbly and borderline hysterical. It was absolutely wonderful, but he could hardly stand it. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin with how badly it tickled.

“More, please!” Taako shrieked, barely capable of words with all the sensations zinging around in his brain.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Kravitz said. “Pick a new spot.”

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), Taako’s brain was beyond fried and distracted. Stupidly, he couldn’t help but blurt out his worst weakness.

“Ribs!”

Taako went from bubbly giggles to shrieking cackles in a matter of seconds. He arched his back, trying instinctively to buck Kravitz off of him with no success. Not that he necessarily wanted to succeed.

Kravitz’s blunt nails scratched against each rib on one side, while his fingers gently vibrated in between them on the other. The conflicting sensations wreaked havoc on Taako’s nerves. Tears of mirth sprung to Taako’s eyes as he cackled and he tugged fruitlessly on his arms to try and pin them to his sides.

“How’s that?” Kravitz asked, and though his tone was teasing, Taako knew he meant the question genuinely.

Taako could only nod in response. It was perfect. It sated the hunger that had been under his skin for so long, and Taako could practically feel the sparks of joy shooting through his chest. Or maybe that was just the ticklish jolts consuming his entire ribcage.

It was a few more long minutes before Kravitz slowed his fingers, releasing Taako’s wrists to reach up and wipe away his laughter-induced tears while his other hand continued gently skittering around his torso. The light tickling wasn’t quite so unbearable this time, at least not as a cool-down. If he kept at it for too long, Taako was sure he’d be squirming and begging again in no time.

“How are you doing?” Kravitz asked, and Taako opened his eyes to see Kravitz’s large grin.

Taako took a few deep breaths before saying, “More, please?”

Kravitz tossed his head back with a laugh before leaning down to press a quick kiss against Taako’s giggling lips.

“Where to next?”

Taako had a lot more spots in mind before he’d be ready for Kravitz to stop.

[got-to-love-a-badboy]

Special guest

Previous chapter ^^^

Special guest

Chapter 9 - say cheese!!

Jack Grealish x Female character

@rosiegrealish I hope your heart is ok ❤️😂

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Ellie took a picture of her self to post online seen as she couldn't post her and Jack.

Liked by @Jesshaw132, @Jackgrealish and 432 others

@Jesshaw132 AH babe that dress looks amazing on you!!

@Liam333 - Enjoy, El ❤️

@Jackgrealish - 😍

@user12 - Date night with who?! Jack has been commenting an awful lot

——————————————————-

The car ride the the restaurant was fairly quiet although Jacks hand never left Ellie's thigh, his fingers traced small circles on her leg, it felt soothing and calming, as she was starting to panic about meeting his friends and their partners, Jack sensed her tension, "Ellie, it will be fine, they'll love you, just relax, we'll have an amazing night, I promise", Ellie leaned into Jack, really appreciating his support.

Finally the car pulled up outside a very posh restaurant, luckily there were no press outside, they must not have heard Jack and his friends would be here tonight, Jack opened the door and stepped out of the car waiting for Ellie, he took her hand and helped her out the car as he flashed her his flirty smile.

Once Ellie was out of the car the two walked into the restaurant, Jack went first knowing that Ellie would be too shy to go first.

"JACKY BOY!!", The two heard bellow through the restaurant, Jack let out a hearty laugh before looking down at Ellie, "that's John McGinn", Ellie smiled up at him, she felt like she was in above her head!.

A few seconds later the two walked around the corner, to the back of the restaurant where Jacks friends were all sat, there were around 20 people at the tables, Ellie's nerves began to take over but Jack was on it, he knew how full oh his friends could be and that matched with how nervous Ellie was, it wasn't a good mixture.

John stood up and hugged Jack, "Alright boy! About time where you been!", then his eyes met Ellie's, "ah right I see where you've been!, Keeping this beauty away, hello darling, my names John, pretty much our Jacky boys keeper", Ellie smiled at John, "yeah he needs someone looking after him", she told him, "well at least he has you now" John replied as Ellie felt Jacks grip on her hip tighten, "come sit down and meet everyone else. Iv kept you two long enough" John told them as they walked to the tables.

Jack introduced Ellie to one of his closest friends Tyrone Mings, "it's lovey to meet you Ellie, Jack has talked about you none stop, literally I feel like if know you forever with everything he's said about", Ellie covered her face and laughed feeling a little shy, "alright Ty! Your suppose to be helping me look cool", the pair laughed as Tyrone turned to talk to somebody else, Ellie leaned into Jacks shoulder, "it's cute that you've talked about me to you friends", Jack brushed the hair from her face and smiled, "yeah?, have you talked to Jessica about me?", Ellie gave him a little laugh, "uh yeah, none stop" she laughed again as Jack kissed the top of her head.

The rest of the evening went really well, Ellie got talking to some of the other girls, "Hey El, we're going to the ladies you coming?" Leon Baily's partner, Stephanie said as she held her hand out for Ellie, she politely accepted as she felt Jacks had slide from off her thigh.

Once in the ladies room the other girls did what they had to as Stephanie stood next to Ellie, "you seen so good for him", Ellie smiled at her before saying, "aww thank you but it's nothing serious at the minute we're just friends", Stephanie shook her head and smiled, "not for Jack, iv seen him bring nobody's out before and iv seen him down on a night out because he wants that somebody, this is neither of them, how he looks at you is just the cutest thing iv ever seen, what makes you say its nothing serious?" Stephanie asked, Ellie could feel herself getting hot, she didn't do interrogations especially about her and Jacks relationship when she didn't know what it was or what she should say, "we've just spoken about how we feel and decided on taking it slow so yeah, nothing major", Ellie smiled before leaning in the mirror to play with her hair, "ok babe, he's spoken to me before about the woman he wants and El, it sounds just like you, anyway I'm all team Jellie!" The group of girls laughed before returning to the boys.

Ellie looked at Jack as she walked back to the table, he was talking to Ty, he was laughing and had a huge playful smile on his face, but as soon as his eyes locked with hers she noticed the look that Steph was talking about, he had a small genuine smile on his face, and she knew how silly it sounded but his eyes had a glimmer to them, she squeezed back into the seat next to him and his arm instantly fell behind her landing on her hip as he pulled her closer, "everything good, you look flush", Ellie smiled at him, it was cute how he noticed every small change in her appearance, "yeah I'm good, the  girls were quizzing me on what we were", he rolled his eyes, 'Steph' he thought, "no it's not bad I just got flustered, I didn't know what to say, I mean we don't have even know what this is, let alone tell people what it is, but Steph has totally shipped us, we're Jellie now", Jack let out a hearty laugh before looking at a smiling Steph, "Jellie? Really", she didn't say anything back, just replying with a small smile and blowing kisses to then couple.

The night carried on into the early hours with the group heading to a bar, they had all had plenty to drink, Leon had taken Steph home as she had a little too much to drink, Ty had pulled some random and was sat in a booth necking with her, Ellie had one last sip of her drink before pulling Jack up by his hand, "come dance with me, Grealish", he did as he was told snd followed Ellie to the dance floor, she began shaking her hips to the beat of the music, Jack snaked his hands around her hips from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, "tonight has been amazing El, thank you", he whispered into her ear, She smiled at his cuteness, "it really has, I wish it didn't have to end" she told him, Jack spun her around so he was facing him, "who says it has to?", he questioned.

They danced until the song finished, then Jack suggested they head back to his, Ellie agreed to the idea and followed him outside.

As they were walking to the car Jack threw his arm over Ellie's shoulder and pulled her closer, the two looked into each other's eyes when Jack pulled Ellie closer and locked their lips, after a few seconds Ellie pulled away to get her breath back, she was about to speak but Jack beat her to it, "I can't get enough of you Ellie Lowe", Ellie was in shock at his comment, part of her knew it was the drink but deep down she wanted to believe things would be the same in the morning.

She was snapped from her thoughts when she saw a bright light in front of her flashing, 'was it police? An ambulance' Ellie thought, then she realised, 'oh shit! Paparazzi!'..........

[jmalkki]

From head canon to on-screen reality 

Episode 6 of Season 3. You, guys.

My. Goodness.

What oddly specific joy.

One has secretly hoped a scene of this nature to eventually make it onto the show, and the promo images promised it was coming now. So, one went in expecting to finally see on screen the sweet sweet scene of the couple all domestic, chilling on their bed, sharing thoughts; the one one has imagined so many times in various forms, be it in text or in illustrations. Seemingly topped with a kiss, as well -  gorgeous for the unremarkable mundanity of itself, without any story points or grand gestures tied to it.

Though the promo image promised kiss was not to be seen, what the domestically set scene itself delivered in substance was such a validating treat one could not feel one bit amiss; something one couldn’t have expected, hoped for, or imagined to come worth.

The end scenes of the episode made some major personal head canons true on screen! Namely the fact of Paul immediately recognizing the nature of one talking by oneself as if to a lost loved one, and admitting carrying Hugh similarly with him after Dear Doctor’s death. And, the fact, that both of the men hate the augmentations on Paul’s arms.

Seemingly tiny things perhaps, but these have both been some of the most persistent themes in my past writing of these two. And much as I abhor to go back to my past scribbles, I felt compelled to quickly go through whole of the Honey Mushroom series, and collect below all of the narratives focused on Paul talking to Hugh in his mind, and the instances mentioning the shared bother of the spore drive augmentations.

Which now suddenly as if offer possible context for the on-screen dialogue:

“God, I hated those things.” “I hated them more.”  

I realize this is quite individual a glee, specific to curious personal head canon nuggets (and perhaps to those who might’ve enjoyed the nuggets / nursed any similar own ideas), but I am beyond ecstatic for those nuggets to have now made it on screen and/or fit into the canon, complementary to the narrative!

How ever coincidental, I think one must thank at least Anne Cofell Saunders, the writer of the episode, for including these specific allusions / plot directions, and in doing so making reality of one’s particular head canons. And, that gratitude must also be extended to anyone else, who might’ve been involved in what ever capacity in the process of bringing these into the show’s in-universe reality.

Feels like such an immense affirmation of one’s year(s) spent passionately imagining these unmentioned-in-canon dimensions (regardless how ever fumblingly). Such joy to see these once dearly envisioned behind-the-scenes aspects brought on screen, and into the canon.

More small, but notable glees: Paul’s PADD on the nightstand. And the men sleeping on the ‘correct’ sides of the bed, which has also been a theme in exploring the character of Paul.  (And, in fact, Paul scratching the augmentations/residuals, too *heehee*).

Okay. Let’s go.

Passages of the augmentations being a bother:

From my second ever narrative, and the first to mention the augmentations, if not yet for the precise shared discomfort factor. Also the first to feature Paul talking to Hugh after the death:

[He shifted on the chair and reached for his forearm. Feeling out the hard plastic augmentation with his fingers. Rubbing it in a circular motion on top of his muscles, letting the gentle pressure push against his bones.

They were another reason - the augmentations - why he had felt so bare at the gym dressing rooms. He had only ever really bared them in the engineering for their designed purpose, and with Hugh around in the sickbay or in the confinements of their quarters. He had showed them to few others of course on occasion, but on his own discretion. He wasn’t comfortable letting them ‘hang out’ like he had just done. It too left him feeling exposed.

“They keep insisting I go in for a medical examination”, Paul muttered out quietly, while skimming through his calendar, like he was expecting Hugh - his resident consultant on all things medical - to actually answer.]

- We Are Undone, But Soldier On

From my only ‘alternative future’ story, with the first ever allusion to the shared discomfort with the apparatus. Also the narrative, which solidified the idea of Paul harboring Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind well after the death:

[ Paul smiled. He put his hand in his hair again, mussed it around a bit, adjusting it from side to side, observing it closely from the mirror. “And you won’t mind this either?” He asked with a faint look of apprehension on his face, “it’s still getting thinner and thinner each year.” “You know I always loved that”, Hugh spoke to him with most affectionate tone, as Paul could feel fingers play with the little swirl of thinning hair on the back of his head, “it makes you look irresistibly manly.”

“Like these”, Hugh continued, as Paul raised his arms in front of himself, displaying the thick, fluffy white hair covering his forearms, “I love falling asleep into this softness.” “Well, you’re in luck then. They sure aren’t thinning any”, Paul snickered, “I think the hair on my head might be migrating there in fact”. He could hear Hugh chuckle and felt a light encouraging pat on his hips.

Paul turned away from the mirror and walked slowly to the small kitchen cabin in the corner of the room. “Always hated shaving any of that off for those spore drive ports, just so you know.” he could hear Hugh’s voice commenting back at him. Paul was replicating his morning drink. “You won’t mind me saying then, how glad I was to get those off eventually”, Paul conversed in his head as he watched the replicator form a cup of tea.

“Of course not, Mushroom”, Hugh sounded to respond from the bed, “we’ve been through this many times. You don’t need to feel sorry for getting rid of those.”

“Yeah…” Paul muttered as he walked back to the room with a fresh cup of tea in his hands, “it just felt then like I was throwing something of you away”, he thought sitting down on the bed, “I know it’s silly.”

“It is. You know I wasn’t too keen on those things ‘hogging’ your arms either”, Hugh let out a little laugh, “and you really haven’t thrown any of me away.”

Paul looked sheepishly down to his tea. He knew what was coming.

“Don’t you think you should?” Hugh asked with a slight hint of worry in his voice.]

- Becalmed

A short, based solely on the premise of the discomfort of the augmentations:

[ Hugh wakes up to it again. To Paul’s arm wrapping around him. Dang, it used to be one of the best feelings in the mornings to wake in the safety of his Honey Mushroom’s manly arms. Now, there’s often this unforeseen complication. And Hugh has in part himself to blame for it too.

“Mushroom”, Hugh tries to carefully arouse the sleeping man’s attention by shaking him a little. He gets no response.

“Honey, can you move your arm a bit”, Hugh tries a little louder and attempts to wiggle himself from the man’s grip, but Paul just mumbles something in his sleep and won’t move. The arm wants to hold on to Hugh. Dammit. He loves it, but just not like this.

“Paul!” Hugh makes no attempt to discretion anymore, “will you let go of me!”

“What!?” Paul wakes up shouting irately at the abrupt wake-up call.

“Your damn augmentation is boring into my hip again”, Hugh lets the understandably agitated response get to him and snaps back in equal tone, which is far more harsh than necessary.

“Well, who the fuck’s fault is it, it’s there!?” Paul huffs back, fiercely as only provoked Paul would - even when half asleep, like he is right now.

“I know, I know. And you’re very welcome, by the way”, Hugh sneers, “just move it”.

“Fine!” Paul scoffs and yanks his arm to his own side of the bed, turning his back to Hugh as he does so. Hugh turns back to face his side as well.

The doctor then immediately feels regret for having gotten so agitated. He’s upset for the situation - lamenting over losing those comfy arms for the good of this ship -, not mad at the man.

How difficult for the man himself it must be to adjust? And Paul hasn’t once complained. Oddly so.

Hugh had just let his own less than satisfactory wake-up ruin Mushroom’s morning as well, hadn’t he?

“I’m sorry, Paul”, Hugh turns to look at the man over his shoulder,  "I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not upset with you".

“I know”, Paul’s sleepy voice sounds faintly somewhere behind the man’s back. He’s not turning back around.

Hugh worries his outburst might scare Paul to thinking twice before embracing him again. And he loves his cuddly Paul.

“Of course you’re still welcome to snuggle”, Hugh assures Paul, letting the regret sound in his voice.

But the man doesn’t hear him, he’s fast asleep again. And Hugh’s bed feels that much emptier without the safety of his man’s arms around him.]

- Losing Your Arms

From one, which references events referenced on screen, namely the introduction of the (preliminary) augmentations by revealing them installed on Paul’s arms:

[ Maybe it had indeed been but a dream after all. Like all of this. Perhaps like all the other times he remembers too. Those instances when they had been somewhere quite surprising - and admittedly quite exciting -, getting distracted by each other from their intended tasks.

Like, when at the Medbay, setting up these brand new spore drive ports on his arms, for a brief stolen moment before the evening shift had arrived to relief Hugh.

Indeed, occasionally he had been back as they were in the middle of hurriedly moving that task to their quarters to follow up on those distractions. Like they must have done just now, judging from the state in which their clothes lay scattered around the room and by the selection of tools haphazardly laid on the coffee table next to them. Like they ever really had any intention to use those once here on this couch.

Paul regards the augmentations on his forearms.

He’s getting a lot of extra orientation practice to the devices through these repeats however, Paul muses. Would Hugh notice anything? Will Mushroom have hard time explaining to the doctor after all of this, how he’s so well adjusted to these things so soon after installation?

He realizes this right now as he catches himself cursing them, positioning his arms so that the ports wouldn’t chafe against their bare skins. Is it too late to rethink these apparatus?]

- Come Again

From one, where Paul regards the augmentations at Hugh’s wake:

[ Paul remembers wrapping his arms around that waist each and every night.

He shifts his arms. The spore drive ports on his forearms, beneath the layers of sleeves, suddenly feel so alien again right then.

It’s not his first time in civilian clothing with them (thanks to his insistence on own comfort wear out of the uniform), but it is the first time with them off duty, since he’s off the ship. And they feel grossly out of place in these Earthly settings.

Hugh too had come to dislike them - his own invention - as soon as it had become apparent how they were an obstruction between their embraces.

Paul should get them removed, if they’ll no longer serve a purpose.

He takes his hands out of the pockets, folds his arms over his chest and goes back to staring across the room with what must appear quite a stern look.]

- Honoring One’s Heart

There was also one about the conceiving of the idea of the augmentations, where, however, the bother factor was not yet in sight:

Doctor, Not an Engineer

And this one, which doesn’t technically count for similar 'shared bother’ reasons either, perhaps, but is a whole narrative very much build around the inconvenience of the augmentations:

Performance Issues

Plus, couple saucy ones, which I won’t list here, lest I actually ever want to share this post *ha* More below:

While at it, (and, perhaps more importantly) here are the narratives build around the idea fact (!!) of Paul living with Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind after the death - in narrative order (some already featured above, too). Hardly captured by a single quote, but for a taste:

[ He had finally heard it. The voice. Hugh’s voice trying to calm him down, “Paul. You need to let yourself be upset. You need to let the tears come.” ]

- We Are Undone, But Soldier On

[ ‘Honey? Are you drunk?’

A delightful, relieved curiosity filled Paul’s mind momentarily as he peered into the darkness of the room wide-eyed, to see where the gentle, familiar voice calling him out was coming from.

Then he remembered, and with a loud, derisive scoff sank back into his darkened state of mind, slumping back down on the couch.

“So fucking what!? If I am.” ]

- A Better Man

[ None of this should matter. Not the suit, not the event, not the crowd. Paul is not here, and Hugh is not gone. Not yet anyway. They are still very much together, and just about to leave somewhere off by themselves, once done with this circus. To enjoy each others’ company somewhere away from all of this dreary pretend. Such a presentation, and for whose sake? “You don’t mind, if I’m not honoring you in accordance to the Fleet standards, do you?” He still gets no response. Hugh hasn’t talked to him since Paul disembarked that cursed ship. He’s still here though, isn’t he? Paul would surely feel it, if the man left.]

- Honoring One’s Heart

[ “Yes. We are too damn young to be thinking about retiring yet.” Paul said and turned to look by his side instinctively, only to see there was really no-one there, of course. He let out a little huff and smiled to himself. Then turned back to face the beach in front of him, and paused to think again. “It will surely be painful to be near it all on the Discovery”, his mind went on, “but I’m not quite ready yet to let go of what we had there either”. “Our only home together?” Hugh came back beside him. “Our first home together”, Paul specified, “so far…"]

- First Home

[  “Dear, I’m home”. He can just imagine himself standing there at the door of their cabin, staring into the empty, cold room that used to be. All the pleasant memories now tainted. How exactly will this be helping him to get over? “But please, do remind me again”, Paul whispers to himself, and hears a heavy, sympathetic sigh in reply, as if preparing itself for telling him of all the ways he’s doing the right thing to move on, and how it’s proud of him for not giving up, and how it supports him, and all that fucking sentimental nonsense, it’s had to tell him already, over and over. And which yet Paul needs to hear. To keep faith. To not forget. ]

- Watching Over You

[  “Hmh”, Paul shrugs, taking in the thought, suddenly a slight twinkle in his eyes, “…but I have too much ‘unbridled passion’ you say?” he then yields, disregarding his persistent gravity, as he apprehensively turns his playful smirk at Hugh, readying himself for this blessed dream to end short. But the man stays here. Startlingly, staring right back at Paul’s surprised gaze with almost haunting clarity. Paul’s grip on the newly corporeal man tightens in a moment of incredulity. For the first time in weeks - but which feels like a year - Paul is able to see the man, to look into those loving eyes again, bathe in that radiant smile, and respond to all of the emotions he now thirstily reads from the man’s beautiful face. And fuck, if there aren’t tears on Paul’s own. The man really is right here.]

- Passion of a Vulcan Like Mind

[ He could feel Hugh’s gaze on himself. “You realize, you actually wanted me gone today?”, he heard Hugh speak out gently, “I got in your way”.

Paul’s smile turned to an anguished frown. The tone of understanding in Hugh’s voice hurt him. “Never”, he attested firmly. He lay there as still as possible, staring at the ceiling, afraid to move too much, or turn to glance at his side, lest it chased away this sensation of Hugh beside him.

“You are being stubborn again, Mushroom”, Hugh whispered with a hint of worry in his voice, “why do you still cling on so desperately?”. He was so close Paul could almost feel the breath on him - or was that the sea breeze perhaps - “You said you’d be okay, if I left - why won’t you let me then?”]

- Becalmed (alt)

[a-libra-writes]

How the GoT Characters React To You Walking In On Them

It’s been more than a month since I did a longass preference (yikes) aND THIS IS HOW I RETURN SEE YALL IN THE 7 HELLS very nsfw obvs

(for my mobile frens, masterlist is here)

In this preference, you’ll be interrupting: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Podrick Payne, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

It’s not that he had planned this; you two hadn’t had a chance to be together for almost three weeks, and he thought you’d be here in your shared chambers by now. He noticed one of your cloaks folded so neatly across the bed … Ned was fumbling out the excuses when you walked in, but eventually he just trailed off, asking you not to tease him too much and forgive him. You just smiled as you took his red face in your hands, and he gladly gave into you. “I’ll have to earn your forgiveness, won’t I? What would you have me do, love?”

ROBB STARK

His cheeks were as red as his hair, but he hastily called you over and tried to cover up his embarrassment with bravado. You laughed as Robb pulled you in his lap and instantly dropped his head to your neck. He tried to laugh with you, but it was cut to a groan as you took him in your own hands. Your king eagerly bit at your neck while you stroked him. “I missed you, love, I didn’t want to - I-I think about you all day, you know. It’s maddening when you’re away from me.”

SANSA STARK

You were hoping to make some sort of sexy entrance, but that was shot to the ground when Sansa yelped and nearly jumped off the bed. She was so mortified, she hid her face while you reassured her and rubbed her back. It took quite a bit of snuggling before she was able to face you again. To help her confidence, you let her unlace your dress while she took a deep breath. “I-I know it’s silly, because we’ve … we’ve already -- well, you surprised me! I thought my heart was in my throat. … Having you here is much nicer, though.”

JON SNOW

The blush went to his ears when you caught him and teased him, and he just sighed and called you over. He was going to calm himself and lace up his pants, but he was pleasantly surprised when you started tugging at his tunic and cloak. You were still teasing, though, so he made a point to distract you by removing your clothes and shushing you with a deep kiss. He was trying to be exasperated with you, but it was always difficult to think straight when you were around. 

BENJEN STARK

He’d just have the nerve to smirk, like he was waiting for you to catch him, and he probably was. With absolutely no shame Benjen would grin and casually mention he was just thinking about you. While you’d try to scold him about being at least a little more careful at Castle Black, it was distracting when his hands were already running up your sides and unlacing your blacks. “Would you like to know exactly what I was thinking about? The night we stole in the Godswood. I loved having you that way, Y/N, all mine for the gods to see. Why don’t we show them again?” 

JORY CASSEL

It took your poor love a few moments to notice you, and when he glanced over, he saw you grinning like a cat with a canary in its mouth. Jory nearly jumped out of his skin and jumbled out all sorts of excuses and apologies - he also didn’t notice how close you were until you were crawling on top of him and opening your bodice. He breathlessly laughed and felt very grateful for having such a pretty, loving wife. 

EDDISON TOLLETT

Well, first he cursed loudly, because he hadn’t noticed you until you were right behind him. You were trying to be enticing by leaning on him and wrapping your arms around his neck, but it just served to startle your poor love. Edd sighed but melted into your almost instantly. He kept stroking himself while you kissed his cheek and neck. Eventually you’d slip your hand down his chest to his cock, and he startled and cursed all over again. 

MANCE RAYDER

He’d just be amused that you caught him, although he really feels no shame in it. He was grinning as he called you over, and once you were pulled into his lap, he’d sigh against your hair and switch to touching your legs and stomach, gently slipping his fingers under the fur, but not quite pushing them aside. “I was thinking about you, but that isn’t good enough, is it? I want to look at you, and touch you. Can I do that, Y/N?”

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

If you knew Tormund, and you did, he wasn’t trying to hide what he was doing, nor did he feel an ounce of shame for it. You walked in and he loudly greeted you. By the time you walked over to him, he’d already be tugging at your furs and asking for your mouth, your hands - or better, your body. He’d ignore his cock in favor of stripping you down and pleasuring you first, and his enthusiasm only made you laugh and encourage him.

YARA GREYJOY

She didn’t care a bit that she was caught. Instead, she called you over to her side, insisting you come fix the “problem” you caused. You both had been busy running the ship as of late, and watching you order men around and take control of the ship yourself was driving her mad. Once she got her hands on you, there was no way you were getting out of her strong grip. “Fingers are fine enough, I suppose, but I’d rather have that sweet tongue of yours.”

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You felt bad for enjoying it so much - not just the show, but Dany’s sulking look when you walked in on her. The expression passed quickly and she tried to play it off like she meant for you to find her, but that was obviously not the case. Still, she was your queen, so you let her have this one. As you pulled her into your arms and she straddled you, she demanded you taste her fingers. You got “scolded” for teasing her the whole day and having the nerve to come home late.

JORAH MORMONT

You hadn’t anticipated him to be so embarrassed, especially when you were admittedly enjoying the show. The poor knight was fumbling for an excuse, and was surprised when you happily sat yourself on his lap and gave him a deep kiss. His shame seemed to melt as he held your waist and squeezed your ass to bring you closer. Jorah was clearly thinking about you, and you were happy to give him whatever he pleased, since he always gave everything to you. “You’re always too good to me, Y/N - I don’t deserve your sweetness.”

MISSANDEI

She blushed and sputtered so hard, you thought she was going to choke for a moment. You hurried to her side and tried not to be distracted by the gorgeous flush across her dark skin. She was mortified and uncomfortable, but you reassured her that it was fine, and apologized for barging in without knocking. You gave her several kisses and pet her hair as she recovered from her embarrassment. It wasn’t getting caught that bothered her; it was that she was having a very vivid fantasy about you and being pulled from it left her a little dizzy.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It was soft touches across your cheek, hair and hips that was beginning to pull you out of sleep. It reminded you of the dream you were having, and you thought you were still there, until the touches became a little more firm and you heard a familiar noise. As you stirred and tried to sit up, you felt warm, comfortable arms wrapping around you and before you knew it, Tywin was on top of you, pressing firm lips against your neck as something much firmer brushed against your stomach. It wasn’t until much afterward that you considered he hadn’t meant for you to see or hear him like that, but he certainly turned the situation to his advantage.

TYRION LANNISTER

He hadn’t meant to get caught, but your cheeky husband tried to make a joke of it and play it off like he was waiting for you to get back. He was ready to cover up and redirect your attention entirely, but you always managed to surprise him. It was a good day when you could get Tyrion flustered and speechless, and pushing the blanket aside to take his cock in your hand - and later your mouth - was a great way to do it. “Darling, you would tell me if you were some kind of figment of my imagination, wouldn’t you? I haven’t just dreamed up these years we’ve been together?”

JAIME LANNISTER

Jaime was brazen about this as anything else in your relationship. He probably knew you’d come in eventually, and didn’t care. He made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed and had one of your nightshifts in his free hand. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of  much of his Kingsguard armor. He laughed at your stunned face and called you over. “Y/N, good timing. Look what you’ve reduced me to - this is a poor substitute for your mouth and your body. I couldn’t decide which to think about ... Why don’t you surprise me?”

SANDOR CLEGANE

He grumbled and cursed under his breath at getting caught, but just a few seconds later he’d tell you to come closer and get your arse over to him. Any teasing and grins you’d have would be quickly silenced by a harsh kiss, and the moment you kissed him back eagerly, he’d already be yanking up your dress. You’d tease that he was trying to distract you away from what he was doing, and he just growled. “Always running’ that smart fuckin’ mouth. I got a better use for it.” 

BRONN

You had just walked into your bedroom and found him, and he kept at it while looking straight at you. Of course he had to make his stupid quips and jokes, telling you that you really ought to keep your doors locked, because who knows what kind of man could come in? Bronn kept up his sassing until you walked over and took his cock in your own hand. He still had that insolent expression, so you had no choice but to stroke him roughly and bite at his lips to shut him up.

PODRICK PAYNE

You aren’t sure who was more surprised, you, or your lover. Pod tried to both cover up and stand up, but he just ended up knocking things over in your chambers. It was a bit silly to be so fearful, since you invited him here, but you hurried to his side to reassure him and give him sweet kisses. You were able to push the squire on the bed and straddle him with confidence. “S-sorry, Lady Y/N, I hadn’t meant to -- well, I did, but - ah! Forgive me, love -”

PETYR BAELISH

Petyr could only chuckle when he noticed you there, and he even made a little joke about it. But when he beckoned you over, his eyes had that distinct hungry glint, one you were very familiar with. Once he had you in his lap, his hands would easily slip up your dress and feel the warmth of your legs. “Now you see what you do to me, Y/N. I think it’s only fair that should make you feel the same. Do you think about me, too? Hmm?”

STANNIS BARATHEONS

He tried to cover up immediately, and you never thought you'd see your husband's face so red. He gruffly mumbled and tried to sputter something out, but you sat behind him on the bed and soothed him. You had a gentle, distracting touch, and he was surprised by your affection, but he didn't turn you away. On the contrary, when you moved to face him, he pulled you into his lap with a surprisingly strong grip. He was still too embarrassed to look at you, though, so he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

He really hadn’t expected to get caught; it was meant to be quick, to get some relief before returning to his work. It was bad enough his thoughts immediately drifted to you, and now you were on the bed, trying to contain your grin. He felt silly for feeling so ashamed, since you clearly didn’t care. In fact, your enthusiasm to get the rest of his clothes off was flattering. “Right now? It’s the middle of the day, we both got things to -- fine, I did start it, but I didn’t expect ya to… alright, alright. Ya can do whatever ya want, love.” 

MARGAERY TYRELL

She was only embarrassed by the fact she was getting a bit loud, and that’s how you stumbled upon her. She gave you her signature pout as she tried to cover herself up, bracing herself for the teasing you were going to give now and the next day… and maybe the day after that. She huffed and said it was your fault; since it was thoughts of you that brought this on in the first place. Her sulking was all a ruse, though: Once you walked over to her to insist it was okay, she pushed you down on the bed and straddled you. “Ha! Let’s see how long you can keep that cheekiness up.” 

BRYNDEN TULLY

He hadn’t noticed you right away, and when he finally did, the only knight could only laugh at how quiet you were. He was only a little embarrassed, his cheeks just slightly red as he explained that he missed you. He’d take your wrist, kissing your fingertips and trying to urge you into his lap. Once you accepted, he could pick you up like you weighed nothing and adjusted your dress so you could straddle him. “Do you have time for me, Y/N? Ah, you’re too sweet. You shouldn’t let me be so selfish.”

EDMURE TULLY

He nearly falls out of his chair when you walk in - you hadn’t even noticed what he was doing until he made such a clamor - and his cheeks got as red as his hair as he stammered out some attempt at a greeting. When you inclined your head toward his trousers, he made a string of excuses that gradually stuttered out when you stood in front of him and sunk to your knees. 

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She flinches like she’s been hit when you walk in, and you weren’t even that loud. You hadn’t noticed what she was doing, but Brienne’s anxious expression and bright-red cheeks eventually sold her out. You went to her side and assured her it was fine, you two had been together for some time, and besides, you’d done the same thing when thinking about her … that’s when you realized you said that out loud and poor Brienne just became an embarrassed, blushing mess all over again. 

RAMSAY SNOW

He didn’t bother hiding what he was doing, nor did he stop. He was in your room, and impatiently eyeing you up and down and urging you toward him. Nevermind you were coming here to get something and go back to what you were doing … Ramsay didn’t care. When you finally walked over to him and he pulled you to his chest with force, pushing you against the bed and kissing you hungrily.

ROOSE BOLTON

He didn’t care when you eventually woke up and noticed what he was doing. He just pulled you close, burying his face in your neck and letting you sleepily blink and try to shift out of his grasp. He easily pulled you back and placed you in his lap, looking very awake in spite of the hour. He was quick to give you plenty of attention, even if you were still tiredly leaning against him, and he was pleased when you closed your eyes and let him spoil you.

OBERYN MARTELL

He was actually just passing time while waiting for you, since you two had plans tonight anyhow. As soon as you walked in and gaped, he laughed and called you over. The eagerness was very obvious in his eyes and from the flush on his cheeks. You asked if that was your new shawl in his other hand, and he said no - the new one was in a gift box on the bed, along with some other … choice things he bought for you to wear. Oberyn ended up not being patient enough for you to try them on; he wanted you on the bed right away. 

BERIC DONDARRION

Once he settled himself down - you really startled him when you snuck up like that - he just smiled bashfully and asked if you’d sit with him. He obviously missed you, given how he pulled you toward him and gave you several needy kisses. When you’d give into him, he’d get  a little breathless, already starting to pull at your clothes. You just had to tease him for it. “I’m sorry, love, I was thinking about you, today and yesterday ���. And before that… I know, I know. You’re just too sweet.”

GENDRY

Your poor love was so startled and embarrassed, he fell over trying to cover himself up, crashing ungracefully on the floor. You had to laugh a little before reassuring him that it was fine, you weren’t bothered. If anything, seeing him so bare was a treat, and you gave him a deep kiss while he was still sputtering and trying to cover up. You hadn’t expected the strength he used to suddenly flip you on your back and keep you under him, but you weren’t complaining at all.

[el-dritchknight]

Pining and Pinning [jarrod/mc]

Title: Pining and Pinning

Summary: Sparring makes up around seventy percent of your time with Jarrod, but all this training hadn't prepared either of you how to deal with feelings.

Fandom: Keeper of the Sun and Moon; Keeper of the Day and Night; Choice of Games

Characters | Ships: Main Character/Jarrod Lin

Tags: Pining, Also Pinning (Literally), Denial of Feelings, Almost Kiss, Sparring

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30802526

Notes:  Happy birthday, Jarrod! This is set during book 2, [spoilers] after MC's deathbed love confession. Also, the options below are meant to look like the different choices in the game, hehe. Dedicated to my amazing twin, Jamesio, who dragged me into this universe!! Ily bro <3 Special thanks to my darling Kristi for helping me improve as a writer and as a human <3

---

"And thats why... hah... I can totally... handle a gun!"

You punctuate that sentence with an overhead strike of your blade — one that Jarrod is quick to block with his own sword.

The situation is reminiscent of the very first time you met Jarrod: the same bright training lights illuminating the hard lines of Jarrod's muscles as he punches and parries; except now, a silver short sword gleams ominously at his side.

You're proud of yourself. You've grown and learned so much that he actually needs a weapon to defend against you this time.

Jarrod is an excellent teacher, if incredibly hard to please.

At the moment, Jarrod appears severely unimpressed by your combat skills as much as he is with your impassioned speech about carrying a celestial gun.

(You don't really care about owning one, not really, but you've missed the silly banter between mission briefs about monsters, researching about anti-human evil organizations, and the resigned way Jarrod tears your heart into tiny pieces each time he rebuffs you.

Weapons are, ironically enough, a safe zone for the two of you.)

"Are you done?" Compared to how badly you're out of breath, Jarrod sounds way too composed as he stabs at your chest.

You knock his hand aside, spinning around to slash at him. "Not even close! Still got... a couple more... lines for you."

(It's nice. Normal. He's always been a better hunting and sparring partner than a conversational one, anyway.)

Predictably, frustratingly, he leaps out of your grasp. The whole dance begins once more, with you seeking him out as Jarrod nimbly ducks and weaves out of range.

(The tension outside of training is similar. He keeps you at a distance, only to sneak past your defenses with a tender touch.)

Dodge, strike, parry. Lather, rinse, repeat.

"Okay, but... long range fights find the celestial gun to be very useful—"

"If they can actually aim," counters Jarrod with a well-placed kick that should've knocked you off your feet. You know him so well at this point that you manage to dodge, if barely.

"I can aim! I'll have you know, I have 100% accuracy! You just don't know what I'm aiming at."

"...The answer is still no, [MC]." Jarrod once again crushes your hopes by knocking his hilt against your stomach. Oof. "Look, I love how determined you are, but you have to know when to quit sometimes."

It's not even really about the gun anymore, you think.

(You would quit if he told you to, would keep to stolen glances from afar and hapless daydreams, if you didn't see the way he stares at you when he thinks you're not looking. If you didn't know the weighty concern behind his words. If you weren't aware of the minute way he tenses when you touch.

You know him well enough by now.)

"Sometimes, it's worth to take a risk, Jarrod!" Gritting your teeth against the pain, the frustration, you raise your sword and charge right at him. The force of your conviction nearly manages to knock him over, but Jarrod being Jarrod, manages to turn your momentum against you.

The training mat is harsh and unforgiving when you land, both your swords clattering to the side in a last ditch effort to turn the tide.

It's not a foreign feeling. Jarrod and Thalia have pinned you to the floor numerous times, often with some snarky remark or cheeky taunt. Bracing yourself for the biting sarcasm, you look up and meet Jarrod's eyes.

For a second, time stops.

For what seems like a minute, you question the existence of temporal magic, unsure if you should thank or curse the user who trapped you both.

For what feels like an hour, you find yourself lost in flecks of gold and black in the dark, warm brown of Jarrod's eyes.

Your heart races, beats wildly in your chest. Heat creeps up your cheeks. Self-preservation and training kick in: you're seized by the urge to escape and throw him off you, but this is at war with the instinctive feeling of safety and security you've come to associate with Jarrod.

Jarrod, who's had your back in a fight more times than you could count, fighting by your side like you're both parts of a well-oiled machine.

Jarrod, who's held your hand tenderly as he brought you back from the brink of death, scarred hands as gentle as ever.

Jarrod, who's tirelessly helped you prove yourself and fight back against confusing, complex world of monsters and mayhem.

The same Jarrod who remains unmoving, lips parted in shock as he stares down at you.

Possibilities bloom as the distance between you diminishes, as you wonder, not for the first time, how Jarrod's lips must feel against your own.

With his warm weight pressing down on you, you decide to:

> Speak amidst the hammering drum of your heartbeat in your ears. "...Jarrod?" 

The sound of your voice tears through the still-born quiet.

All thoughts of closing the gap between you two disappear, shimmering in the air like mist as Jarrod shakes his head, gaze shuttering close once more.

He gets up.

> Wink at him. "Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Jarrod groans. He pointedly ignores the way you've been waggling your eyebrows and rolls off you in one fluid movement.

"It's a knife," he says flatly, bringing out a switchblade from his pocket and flicking it with finesse.

(Now you're convinced he's just showing off.)

"But you're still happy to see me?"

Tucking the knife away, Jarrod rolls his eyes and doesn't bother to reply (or deny that allegation.)

> Stay completely still.

You don't even dare to breathe as seconds, minutes, perhaps even hours tick by.

The feel of his skin, flushed and sweaty from multiple sparring rounds, pressed against your own.

The weight of his stare, drawn and intense, softening the slightest bit.

The heat of his breath, so close yet so far. Anticipation grips you as his lips are hover inches from yours—

"Ahem."

The sounds of polite coughing crash through the moment, splintering it into a thousand pieces.

In a flash, Jarrod rolls to the side, leaping to his feet. You're left bereft and extremely irritated at the onlookers who should've minded their own business.

He offers out his hand to you, face turned away.

You immediately take it, sparing a second to relish in his soft, steady grip against the rough, battle-worn calluses of his hand.

The next second is spent nearly crashing into Jarrod's chest when he pulls you up and close — too close. Brown eyes widen in surprise as Jarrod realises the scant sliver of space between you two. Clearing his throat, he quickly drops your hand and folds his arms over his chest. Under the harsh lights of the training room, you swear you can see a tinge of pink on his tanned cheeks.

"Let's go again," he says eventually. "No more distractions this time."

(A distraction. That's what he says, but you know you're more than a measly distraction to him.

You know he cares about you. You wonder if he knows how much.

You know him well enough not to hold your breath.)

[behindtherobinsmask]

tagged by @runnfromtheak

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. I write the most random things so if you can actually find a pattern then... let me know. Help a fool out. 

P.S. - I know it says opening line and not paragraph but come on, that doesn’t do any story justice.

Gonna do my tags before because this turned out to be longer than expected - @elwon @stevieraebarnes @epistemologys 

1. All The Times Damian Wayne Felt Loved 

This was a birthday fic I wrote for a darling friend of mine. The whole time I was writing this my biggest fear was that the characters were going to... just not be right. Still have that fear.

“Gripping onto a pillow, Damian walked down the dark halls of his grandfather’s house, uncertainty clouding every step that he made. At this hour of the night, no one seemed to be around yet he could feel eyes watching his every move. The eyes of the stars in the sky, the moon and the many trained soldiers that had years of practice when it came to blending into the shadows. It was their presence that forced him to walk with his head held high, to bat away the tears in his eyes and pretend that everything was alright. Pretend that he wasn’t afraid.”

2. To all the stars that are listening

Another birthday fic (maybe that was the pattern all along jk). I actually really enjoyed writing this fic because I felt like I was back in my zone (my zone being angst). Can’t wait to get started on the second part.

“Dick’s life had been anything but ordinary since he was a child. As someone who grew up in the circus, his morning was spent studying with the other kids that travelled with his troupe while in the afternoon, he practiced with his heart and soul to fly as beautifully as his parents. In the nights, he’d stand on the sidelines and watch them perform, absolutely awed by the way their bodies moved, each twist, each turn so seamless, every difficult stunt seemed easy in their skin. Clinging onto the edge of the tent, he wished with all his heart that someday, he could be just like them. A bird freed. With every wish, his voice grew louder and louder until somewhere, up above, a star heard his cry. It heard his desire to be free. The chains that grounded him slowly slipped away and he flew with practiced grace. And just as Dick spread his wings, his parents fell. Birds flightless.

Freedom he had asked for and freedom he had received.”

3. Come here, won’t you hold my hand?

Listen, I spend hours of my life playing genshin impact. Did you really think I wouldn’t write a fic for it? 

“After chasing the traveler away, Xiao sighed, wondering if now was the time to head back to Wangshu Inn. There he could stay away from the harbour and its people, away from the wishes made on stars that could never hear them, away from their fragile happiness that he could shatter with a single touch. Someone like Xiao, so burdened with sins, could never mingle among the mortals without bringing harm. Wherever he went, only misery ever followed. But even though he knew that it would be best for him to leave, a part of him, as silly as it was, worried that the journey back would make him miss out on the opportunity to see an old friend. While he never attended the Lantern Rite in Liyue, he always made sure to catch a glimpse of the Mingxiao lantern that always honored the adepti. It was only at that moment that he could lose himself to the past momentarily and remember a time when he wasn’t so alone, when his battle wasn’t only his to fight.”

4. Jon Kent Must Die

A jaydick flashfic challenge gave birth to this crack series and I will happily go down with this ship. I’ve written too many of these and maybe, in the future I’ll write more. Who will stop me? God? I don’t think so. 

“Damian was sick and tired of his siblings.

Never had he met two people who were so dependent on their partners that they needed them around 24/7. It didn’t matter whether it was day or not, whether they were at the manor or in their respective homes, wherever his brothers went, their fool boyfriends seemed to follow. The obligatory family dinner had been turned into a circus with Todd’s usual clownery that had Damian rolling his eyes so hard that sometimes he was afraid they’d just pop out of his skull. Kent was no better. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had encouraged Todd’s rambling as though he was God’s chosen prophet, sharing his truth with the world. Damian really wished, just for a day, the two of them would simply go away. It wasn’t that he missed his siblings or anything. He just wished to have a conversation with Richard that didn’t end with him wanting to stab someone. Hopefully a 5’11 man with black hair with a streak of white and deep green eyes that could find a conspiracy in Titus’s preferred pose for napping.”

5. I wanna be in your arms by the sea (studying your freckles so curiously)

Yes. It’s another genshin impact fic. Sue me. (Please don’t I’m broke).

“Every night, Zhongli saw the same dream.

Caressed by the gentle winds of the Guili plains, he watched over his people, Guizhong’s people as they lived in prosperity, enjoying the calm and gentle wind that wrapped around them. Serenity was a blessing and they had an abundance of it. In the beginning, when Guizhong had described such a scene, something knit carefully in her imagination, he had not believed her. But now that he was seeing with his own two eyes, he was glad that he had agreed to her terms. Glad that he had formed a contract that had been beneficial for all.”

6. I stay up late and talk to the moon (And I can’t stop telling her all about you)

A christmas exchange fic that I loved writing because it really got me back into the writing for jaydick. It had been a while since I touched anything fandom related. Then this story happened. 

“According to Jason, there weren’t many things that Bruce really got right. Not with his rules that could never be bent for anyone or his sickeningly righteous sense of justice. But if there was one thing Bruce excelled in, it was throwing the world’s most boring party ever. Every event that ever took place in the Wayne manor was the same. Classical music. Champagne flutes. Appetizers that could never replicate Alfred’s cooking and finally, the same old rich folks of Gotham who needed to be filled in on the latest gossip lest they melt into a puddle.”  

7. Now I’m going down on you (proving what I want is true) Who told me I could write smut? Please take away my license. “Click. Click. Click. With a heavy sigh, Dick switched off the TV and tossed the remote aside after an hour of clicking through the channels, unable to find anything that would keep his mind occupied. Two weeks ago, during a drug bust with the rest of the bats, Dick had suffered an injury to his shoulder which he considered rather minor. But Alfred and Barbara said otherwise as he was benched until he healed, his own city taken over by other vigilantes while he was forced to sit at home and entertain himself with murder mysteries with plot twists he saw coming from a mile away. Unfortunately, even when he hit the gym to let go of some restless energy, he could only do the most basic of workouts, the kind that simply weren’t enough for someone who was so used to being active all day long.”

8. Wayne Boys Unsolved

Another crack fic that I really enjoyed writing. Poor Yvonne though. She was really suffering. 

“Yvonne’s body was thrumming with excitement as she peeked out the window of her room, her eyes falling on the black car that just pulled up in front of her house. Four boys stepped out, ones that she was so very familiar with. After all, she had spent many nights watching every single video they uploaded on their blog. They were paranormal investigators of sorts, the kind that didn’t believe in the supernatural and lived to debunk the stories that revolved around each haunted location. Because people loved to watch them so, both alive and dead, the boys had become famous in every circle possible.”

9. You make me wanna die (I’m burning up in the light)

Another birthday fic and the first dark story I ever wrote. Writing this was fun but also nerve-wracking. 

“I think we need a break.

Two years, three months, four days and seven hours. That was how long it had been since Jason had said those words to Dick, sitting in the middle of the bed they shared, silk sheets pooled around his scarred waist, the white of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, droplets of it swimming down his throat and across his bare chest that was bruised red with bite marks, across the autopsy scar that he had been reborn with. He looked like a picture, each feature painted so delicately with colours that pulled, that hypnotised and drowned. The fingers of his right hand flexed, parted and then brushed across the back of his neck, tracing the bond mark that tied him down to Dick, shuddering slightly under the imprint, his heady scent spreading across the room like a drug. Strong, so fucking strong that Dick could still taste it on his tongue. Looking like that, after everything they had done, when he opened his mouth, when he said the words that had been sitting on the tipping of his tongue, it was only to end everything that they were.”

10. Come fire up the night (make me feel alive)

Who told me I could write smut (2)

“Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, Dick lay in his bed, tired but unable to fall asleep, the ticking of the clock haunting him. Tick. He took in a deep breath. Tock. He closed his eyes. Tick. He tried to sleep. Tock. Every memory of Jason came rushing back to him. The dark hair with a streak of white that framed his chiselled face. The plump lower lip that he often dreamt about kissing, pulled between his teeth until Jason was groaning. The freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks. Those deep green orbs that gleamed with mischief, teasing and taunting, burning with unbridled fury, one look enough to make Dick’s knees tremble. And as goosebumps spread across his arms, he found himself waking up, lest he did something that he knew he would regret. Like calling up Jason and confessing feelings that were better left unspoken, buried in a special graveyard from which there would be no sudden resurrections.”

[florence-is-gay]

I made a ship fanfic for florence’s oc and mine. Have it.

“Hey, Lulu! Wake up!”

Lumine slowly opened her eyes, to see Bottle grinning ear to ear at her.

“What is it BB?” She said, leaning up from her bed to stare at her lover.

“As you know, its been raining for quite a long bit, and i was bored in the middle of the night. I was then reminded of this tv show where the main characters tried golfing when it was raining, and basically-“ He sat down onto Lumine’s bed as she saw that Bottle made an entire mini golf course inside of their house.

“-I couldnt sleep and was bored so i made this, simply put.” Bottle said, extending his arm to express the vast quantity of mini golf he made.

Lumine was still trying to wake up, but was impressed at what bottle had made. “I love it, honey!” She said, proceeding it with a stifled yawn.

“Thanks! I also made you some breakfast because i still had some free time after i finished the golf course.” He said, hugging Lumine with one hand and grabbing a plate of hash browns and bacon with another. “Now eat up, because i honestly want to try and play some mini golf because im exited to see how someone else would think of this!”

“It looks great from what i can see! Lumine said, as she quickly kissed bottle.

Lumine, still slightly tired, took a bit of time to eat her food, but scarfed it down once she woke up a bit more. It was honestly a tad bit burnt, but she didnt mind. Bottle made this stuff for her out of love and she didnt care if it wasnt perfect. Love already made it perfect.

When she was done eating, she gently placed her food on her bed and got up. As she was about to leave their room, though, Bottle suddenly opened the door, seeming even more giddy and exited than before.

“Lulu, guess what?”

With a quick chuckle, lumine answered with an over enthusiastic “What, honey?”

��We didnt have golf stuff so i bought us some, and i also got us-“ Bottle, out of flair, did a spinning backflip, and landed in a completely new outfit. He was now wearing a plaid sweater, white and green, with a white beret instead of his normal stereotypical pirate hat. Also in Bottle’s hands laid a set of clothes as well, in very much magenta colors.

“-Golf clothes!” He said, with as much flair as he possibly could.

Lumine couldn’t help but giggle at what was going on. The rain had been going on for days now, and it wasnt giving her the best of sleep, so waking up to a gift of fun, some amazing food, and what looks to be an amazing new set of clothes was the uplift that she needed.

“Aw, that you so much BB!” She picked up the clothes from bottle, and stuck them under her armpit. “Ill go change into these right away, hehe!” She said with another giggle.

She closed the door and changed as quickly as she could. When Lumine walked out, she was wearing a magenta and pink sweater, with a lopsided cyan beret and some dark magenta jeans (that were a bit too tight for her liking.)

“Im ready to play some golf, honey!” She said, with a little hop.

Bottle was sitting in a nearby chair as lumine walked out, and him seeing her also in a full golf outfit made him practically jump with joy. He quickly skipped over, and actually picked up lumine to hug her. He slowly started spinning in place as he spoke. “How does it fit, honey?”

“The pants are a little tight but other than that it feels perfect! I love it! The sweater is super soft and the beret is adorable!” She said, nuzzling her nose against his.

“Wonderful!” Bottle gently put lumine down and then turned to look at almost a dozen minigolf courses around their house, and with a voice full of pride and excitement, said to lumine, “Now, lets play some golf, honey!”

Bottle quickly ran over to one of the smaller courses, labeled with a small red flag with the number ‘1’ on it. He pulled out a golf club with a lime green handle and a shorter club with a magenta handle, and handed the latter to lumine. He then set a golf ball down in a little groove on the track, signifying where the ball should lay on first putt.

“Honey, you get first shot, but dont swing the club, just gently hit the ball, ok?” He brought lumine over, perpendicular to the ball, and got behind her to help her prepare her shot.

Lumine gives a nice, effective swing, and brings the ball fairly close to the hole (which was just a very shortly cut plastic cup, mind you) for her first putt. Bottle then brings out his own ball, and swings it, hitting lumine’s and knocking both of them into the hole at the same time.

“We both got a hole in one, honey! Nice shot!” Lumine said to Bottle, hugging him tight.

“Yeah! You honestly did great yourself, too!” He said, patting lumine gently on the head. “Now, lets move to the next one!” He said, running over to the next course.

None of the mini golf courses were particularly hard, but they were an absolute joy to observe. Each one had its own interesting and unique style, and just knowing it was all made by bottle, and it was all just for the two of them, was an amazing experience that lumine would absolutely never forget.

Hole after hole they progressed, and by the time they were halfway through it, lumine had actually gained an impressive lead, but Bottle was not angry in any way, which surprised Lumine. Bottle could be a bit of a hothead at times, and considering how mini golf normally went for her and her family, she was surprised he hadnt completely freaked out. Even though he was still losing hard, he was complimenting Lumine’s work, still trying his hardest, and was as cool as a cucumber. She then decided that it could be fun to lightly tease bottle.

As he was preparing his next swing, lumine kissed him on the cheek and gently said, “I love you so much BB.” This legitimately startled bottle, and he swung completely away from his target, with the ball slamming into the nearby wall. The two stared at the ball for a moment, but then bursted out laughing. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, but please dont say it when i was about to putt.” He said, turning to Lumine and kissing her.

“No~ hehe.” Lumine said as they stoped kissing, booping his nose with her own.

“Well, that might cause some problems if i dont... *punish it.*” Bottle said, turning to Lumine with a slightly silly expression. He then quickly and suddenly picked her up and started tickling the crap out of her, dousing her in kisses for good measure.

“Is this enough punishment for you to rethink what you did?” Bottle said, still tickling lumine.

“Mh... mhm-“ Lumine barely mustered saying before laughing as hard as she could.

“Good enough for me.” Bottle said, putting her down.

As the game progressed, every hole one of them would then always try to mess with their partner, sometimes with a kiss, sometimes with a little spook, but the other would always get “punished” in the end with kisses and tickles.

Soon enough though, they reached the last hole. It wasnt flashy or very decorative at all, compared to the others. All it was was a small golf strip, leading up to a golf hole with a small machine behind it.

“You go first, honey.” Bottle said, nudging her to the spot.

Lumine walked up to the hole and placed down her ball.

“Are you sure this is the last hole, honey? All of the others were incredibly high quality and super adorable, but this doesnt seem all that interesting.”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” Bottle said, reassuringly.

Lumine hit the ball and it swept in instantaneously. As lumine went to pick it up, however, the small machine started whirring to life. It slowly started speaking, and it was obvious that it was just recording Bottle’s voice.

“Well, that was a game of golf, wasnt it? I bet i loved it almost as much as i love you.” The machine spoke. “... on the topic of love. This is actually, as can be considered, the anniversary of our first ‘date,’ back when we fell from that giant tree and landed in a cloud of cotton candy. Ive been honestly preparing to make something for this day for ages now, and im glad that you played enough mini golf to get to the prize. Now, if you could, turn around.”

Lumine slowly turned, and was surprised to see Bottle on one knee, holding out a platinum ring.

Bottle spoke with a quiver in his voice, almost as if he was afraid that he would ruin the moment. “Well, i bet this is surprising.” Lumine stared bottle directly in his eyes, and almost started crying at the sight.

“Honey, i... i thought about it for a long time. I wanted to bring it up, but was secretly planning to save it for this moment. My feelings for you have gone far deeper than you know, and in expressing them now, and i honestly think, your ring finger could be the perfect thing to fill this hole-in-one.” Bottle said, gesturing to the ring.

Lumine slowly picked up the ring, almost as if it was fake. But it wasnt fake, and the thought crashed down onto her in an instant. She gripped the ring as hard as she could as she ran over to hug bottle as tightly as possible.

“Yes.” She said, practically crying as feelings of love washed over her like tsunamis.

Bottle didnt say a word, but slowly picked up lumine, walked her over to her bed, and set her down. Lumine didnt want to let go of him, though, so bottle climbed into bed with her, as she hugged him tight. They both went to bed, with the house being covered in golf things, with their clothes still on, and their bodies wrapped together tighter than a vice.

“Thank you.” Lumine was able to mumble, saying as she slowly reached up to kiss bottle.

“You’re welcome.”

I will have y'all know that I cried when I read this at 2am.

It's freaking wonderful and I love it 😍💕

[writerofshit]

for the ship asks, 19 (things you said when we were the happiest we ever were) and stream team (treh, myatt, and lil j)?

(So. Maybe not to the heart of the prompt, but the happiest I've ever been was simply existing with people I loved.)

19. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were 

“Goddamnit Jeremy!” Matt’s voice rings out through the apartment, loud and vaguely angry. He's in the kitchen, which means he has just stumbled upon what Jeremy has done. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

Jeremy glances at Trevor, sitting beside him on the couch. “Any chance you wanna take the blame for this one?”

“Depends.” Trevor doesn’t take his eyes off of his character on screen. “What did you do?”

Before Jeremy can respond, Matt stomps into the room, empty cereal box in hand. “You knew I was looking forward to this!" On the last word, he gestures aggressively with the box. "Asshole."

"Matt, look-" on screen, Jeremy's character dies, and he tosses the controller onto the coffee table. "In my defense, Trevor did it."

"Oh no no, don't involve me in this." Trevor leans to the side, an apparent effort to make his character do the same. It doesn't work, and he dies too. "Fuck."

"Sounds great, but a little difficult on an empty fucking stomach." Matt says drily, hand on his hip. "You owe me a box of cereal, Jeremy."

"Matt, come here." Jeremy reaches toward him, but he doesn't move. "Matt please." He makes a grabby motion at him. With a heavy sigh, Matt extends his hand and allows himself to be pulled onto the couch. "Listen, why don't the three of us go out to eat, that way you're not eating cereal for dinner like an animal-"

“Well that’s just mean for no reason.”

“And on the way back I will buy you more cereal.” Jeremy finishes as though Matt hadn’t interrupted him.

Matt eyes him suspiciously, as though he’s waiting for the catch. He looks to Trevor as well, who holds up his hands in ‘I don’t know, I’m just here’. Finally, he nods. “Fine. But you’re paying for me.”

“Sure Matt.” Jeremy says with a patient smile. “I’ll buy you dinner too.”

“Hey Jeremy,” Trevor begins, resting his arm on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Since you’re throwing around cash like you have it, remember that time you tried to blame me for eating Matt’s cereal?”

“You mean literally three minutes ago?” Matt says, chuckling.

“You guys are the worst.” Jeremy leans back into the couch, crossing his arms firmly.

“Says the cereal thief.” Matt says with a pointed look at him.

Jeremy tries his best to stare back, to hold an intimidating, or at least neutral expression. He fails after approximately three seconds. He’s got Trevor giggling in one ear and Matt looking annoyed at him. Even the strongest man couldn’t do it, and he is few from strong when it comes to them. He breaks into a grin, and Matt shakes his head.

“Asshole.” But he looks away, and Jeremy knows he’s smiling too. That’s all he can ask for.

---

Matt wakes up to the sound of the bedroom door opening. He has had one arm wrapped around Jeremy’s waist, and he tightens his grip ever so slightly. If someone is here to kill them, he won’t be much of a defense, but it’s still his instinct to try and protect his best friend. He cracks one eye open to find that it is in fact Trevor in the doorway, finally getting home.

“Hey Trevor.” He says quietly, hoping not to wake Jeremy. It doesn’t work, and Jeremy shifts beside him, lifting his head to also peer at the door.

“Hey, you made it.” He mumbles, head falling back to the pillow.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m so late.” Matt hears the sound of Trevor dropping his keys and wallet into the dresser, and then the sound of the closet door. “You wouldn’t believe the shit that went down after you guys left.” 

“Hmm. Can’t wait to hear this. We’re all ears.” Despite his words, Jeremy turns himself toward Matt, curling into his chest. Matt rolls to his back, bringing Jeremy with him.

Trevor re-emerges from the closet, presumably in pajamas of some sort. He slips into bed beside Jeremy, and Matt makes his best effort to reach an arm toward him. “What happened?”

Trevor's hand finds his in the dark. “Just… remind me who put me in charge of Michael and Gavin?”

“That would be you and Geoff, I think.” Matt squeezes his hand gently. “At least you’re home now.”

“Yeah, barely. You know they somehow got involved in a three hour police chase?”

“Jesus Christ.” It’s not shocking by any means, and they’ve all certainly had worse, but still. The aftermath of Michael and Gavin chaos can be a real shitshow.

“They got away, obviously, but Jack and I are both thinking we lay low for a few days.” Trevor squeezes Matt’s hand one last time before pulling away, opting instead to curl himself around Jeremy.

“Makes sense to me.” Laying low may not be his favorite way to operate, but he trusts Trevor’s judgement. If he and Jack think it’s necessary, it must be. Odds are, it’ll be the three of them holed up in this apartment for a week, the rest of the crew in various homes across the city. 

“Wha-“ Jeremy shifts at the touch. “Shit, Trevor, I’m sorry, I missed all of that.”

Trevor only chuckles. “You’re good, man.” Matt feels Trevor’s hand slip between his chest and Jeremy’s. “Go back to sleep.” He hears Trevor press a kiss to Jeremy’s shoulder, followed by a fond, contented sigh.

Maybe laying low won’t be all bad. Boring, sure, but at least they’ll be together.

---

“You know I love you both to death, and I’ll support anything you guys want to do, but if you think that wall is structurally sound, I- I really don’t know how to help you.” Trevor is standing in the middle of the living room, one hand on his hip, pointing at two precariously leaned pillows.

“Alright, it’s not done yet-“ Matt begins, shooting him an exasperated look.

“Yeah, and we’ll thank you not to judge us until our vision is fully realized.” Jeremy says, voice monotone. Immediately, he breaks into a giggle. “God, can you imagine if I talked like that?” he picks up his beer from the coffee table, taking a long sip.

“See, I don’t like that because it really sounded like you were doing an impression of me.” Matt says, kneeling down next to the compromised pillow wall. He tries to adjust it slightly, and it collapses, taking three more pillows with it. “Shit.”

“I don’t wanna say I told you so, but…” Trevor trails off into laughter.

“Alright Mr. Fuckin Engineer,” Matt sits back and gestures broadly at the mess of pillows and blankets surrounding him. “You figure out how to give pillows integrity.”

“Well first off, don’t build walls out of pillows.” Trevor mutters, sitting cross legged beside Matt on the floor.

“Trevor, it’s a pillow fort.” Jeremy emphasizes, waving his beer around. “What are we supposed to use, concrete?”

“No,” Trevor says, squeezing the various pillows that have fallen, searching for the firmest ones. “but also don’t use the softest pillows we own as a base.” He takes the one he’s least satisfied with and chucks it in Jeremy’s direction, hitting him squarely in the chest.

“Trevor!” Jeremy stares at him incredulously, mouth slightly hanging open. “I did nothing to you!”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Matt deadpans, and now Jeremy whips the pillow back at him.

The entire situation dissolves quickly from there, going from the very ambitious fort plan to an all out pillow war. It’s all obscenities and insults and laughter, pillows flying in all directions. Jeremy claims the couch, yelling something about height advantage and fairness. Trevor full on falls multiple times, trying desperately to jump over projectiles. It absolutely doesn’t work. Matt tries to take shelter under a blanket, which is a poor choice. The other two truce long enough to dogpile on him, and then they’re three idiots wrestling on the floor.

When they’re all tuckered out, they wind up just staying down there, constructing something that’s less pillow fort and more pillow nest. Regardless of what their original plan was, Trevor is inclined to think that this is better. Its nice to just have fun, be a little silly with the two people he loves most. He can’t think of a better way to spend a a Tuesday night.

[writingithink]

Keeping In Mind Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: T Wordcount: 2,359 Summary: The Doctor finally looks into Rose's telepathy (a bit). Notes: Life got busy, but finally Day 6 of @timepetalsweek ! I used the picture prompt and the word prompt 'wolves'.

For the first time, I'm going to say that if you haven't ready any of the other ones you might not enjoy this one as much. I don't think you'd necessarily be lost or anything, but yeah.

So many innumerable thank yous to @hey-there-juliet for betaing <3

All mistakes are mine.

I own nothing.

READ IT ON AO3 -> copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539580

“I think it’s that way,” Rose pointed, laughing as the Doctor tried to stand on his tiptoes to see over the crowds of people and ended up knocking his forehead on her chin.

“You know, the parade’s over. Don’t you want to stand on your own now?”

“No. I had to use my favor for this, so I’m gonna make the most of it, ta.”

He rolled his eyes, even as he smiled up at her. It really wasn’t that bad, she didn’t weigh much at all as far as he was concerned. If they ever had to do this the other way around, his wife would likely be shocked at how dense he was despite his skinny body. So he began to slowly weave through the groups of families that still hadn’t dispersed despite the late hour and the park closing. Just because giving her a piggyback ride was physically easy didn’t mean it wasn’t awkward to navigate.

I can get down if you really want.

“No, no, you’re right. It’s your favor. Blimey, I don’t know what I’d use mine for. Suppose I’ll just save it, I’m sure it will come to me.”

“Mmm shoulda put an expiration date on ‘em. That way I wouldn’t be blindsided whenever you do figure out what you want.”

“Were you planning to forget?” he asked, pausing to look around again. He could sense the TARDIS nearby, he just couldn’t see.

“No,” she chuckled, “but knowing you, it’ll be, like, ten years from now and you’ll be like ‘ Rose, remember how you owe me a favor’ and then ask me to do something completely barmy.”

The Doctor grimaced. “Don’t. Don’t do impressions. It’s not- no.”

But he did love the idea of her being with him ten years from now. She kissed the top of his head, their bond buzzing with pleasant emotions (and a hint of irritation, but he’d known that was coming the moment he questioned her character work - but really, she could settle for being good at most things, no one’s good at everything).

“Aha!” He finally locked eyes on their time ship and sped up, Rose gripping him tighter.

When they reached the door he paused and bent over so that his bondmate could unlock and open it, as his arms were still busy holding her up. Once inside, he kicked the door closed and paused once they got to the console.

“Down now?”

“Nope.”

“But how’m I supposed to fly the TARDIS?”

“Where are you trying to go now? I’m knackered. We landed at Epcot before it even opened and have been riding rides all day.”

“Nowhere, really. Just not here. Maybe orbit around a nice nebula.” The Doctor tried to shrug, but it was hard to accomplish with Rose on his back.

“Then it can wait. Let’s go to the galley, have a cuppa,” she suggested, and he wondered if he’d have to hold her the whole time she made tea.

Yup, came her mental response.

This can’t possibly be that fun for you, he insisted, despite the contradictory information the bond was giving him.

“C’mon, it’s a new experience,” his wife insisted, and she wasn’t wrong but it definitely wasn’t a new experience he would have ever put on a list of things to try.

With a sigh, the Doctor walked them around the console and to the main corridor, but he wasn’t paying nearly as much attention as he should have been as he turned down the hall and ended up bashing her head on one of the coral struts.

“Ow!!”

“I’m so sorry! So, so sorry!!”

He could feel how much that hurt over their connection. Still didn’t know how to turn off that part. It was so unconscious that telepathic barriers didn’t really do anything.

“Ohhh I think it’s bleeding,” she groaned.

“Sorry, sorry! We’ll have it fixed up in a jiffy, don’t you worry,” he promised, making a left instead of a right to get to the infirmary.

After kicking open the doors, the Doctor sat Rose onto the cot. “We’ll just press pause on the piggyback ride, yeah?”

“Mmm, I don’t really feel like it anymore,” she grumbled as he pulled the sonic out of his jacket pocket. Honestly, they probably didn’t need to be in here for this, but it was where the good antiseptic wipes were for after he healed her head wound.

“Sorry,” he whispered, parting her hair around the teeny tiny cut and sonicking it closed before doing a quick scan to make sure he hadn’t given her a concussion - he hadn’t.

“Stop sayin’ sorry, it was just an accident,” Rose huffed, and he was beginning to feel her headache through the bond.

And he almost apologized for apologizing, but thankfully caught himself.

It wasn’t until he turned around to find the antiseptic and some paracetamol that the Doctor noticed all of the various scanners and other equipment lined up on the counter. He’d done that weeks ago in a fit of productivity while Rose had been sleeping, and since then had completely forgotten about it. Well, not completely . But he had been putting it off. They’d been putting it off.

“We don’t have to wait until we’re done with our honeymoon if you don’t wanna,” Rose said, picking up on his frustrated guilt.

He sighed, getting back on track and opening the cupboard, hoping that the TARDIS hadn’t rearranged things again - thankfully she hadn’t. In fact she was being quite helpful today, wipes and pain reliever right at the front.

“It’s not exactly romantic,” he countered. “We’ve only just finished trip number four, and we already took a break to do wedding planning with your mum.”

“Well, at the rate we’re goin’, this honeymoon could last months yet. Don’t think I didn’t catch ya pondering about cabins this morning. Which I do approve of, by the way. I’ve always wanted to try skiing.” She gave him his favorite tongue-in-teeth grin.

“Awwwww that was going to be a surprise,” the Doctor pouted as he handed her the capsule before setting about cleaning her scalp and hair.

“You weren’t tryin’ very hard to keep it a secret,” his wife pointed out.

“I thought you weren’t really awake yet. Your thoughts were all … cotton candy-like.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, that’s the closest thing I could think of,” he defended. “Telepathy isn’t easy to describe! Especially not in English.”

Like the way her mental laughter gave his whole body a pleasant tingly bubbly-ness.

“Anyway, we’re here now so we might as well do your scans,” Rose said, changing the subject. “And I think you owe me two more favors now.”

“What? Why?”

“‘Cause, even though it was an accident you did mess up my piggyback ride.”

“But how does that equal two favors?” he asked, confused.

She looked up, momentarily dislodging his hand. “Because you love me?”

His bondmate was quite devious, and no amount of big, innocent eyes were going to change his mind. Unfortunately, she was right.

“ Fine,” he sighed, wondering when exactly she had wrapped him around her finger. The Doctor had a sneaking suspicion that it was earlier than he’d ever want to admit. He tipped her head back so that he could finish up. “Two favors for you, but you can’t use them to get out of my future-favor. Aaaaand, all done.” He gave her head a kiss and then moved back to the counter to get started on the scans.

“So, how’s this gonna work?” Rose asked.

“Should be easy. You can just stay where you are. This is a six-dimensional comprehensive deep scanner. Used to have an eight-dimensional one, but I seem to have misplaced it. Actually, I may have traded it. Hard to remember.”

He set up it’s tripod, calibrating the sight before dragging the cords over to the infirmary monitor.

“And this,” he continued, holding up a teal tablet about the size of a small laptop, “is a telepathic assessment device. Used to classify telepathy grades, basic ability test. It hooks up to you with these.” The Doctor picked up a handful of wireless electrodes.

“Wait, I’m gonna have to take a test?”

Distress echoed across the bond.

“Kind of. Sort of. It’s not like it’s something you need to study for.” This didn’t seem to reassure her. “We could skip this one?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t like takin’ tests,” Rose mumbled, crossing her arms and looking down.

The Doctor walked over, abandoning the equipment on a nearby cart before taking a seat next to her on the cot and wrapping an arm around her. “It’s really not that kind of test. It’s still medical, like a reflex test or a concussion test, you know, where they ask you the date and who’s prime minister. Just a basic check. And I’m certain you’ll do brilliantly. You’re such a strong presence in my mind, and since you have such a limited experience with telepathy I don’t think you can appreciate how exceptional that is. But really, I’m sure that I can still get a good picture of what’s going on if we didn’t do this one.”

“No, no, we can do it,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “‘M sure you’re right. Just me being silly.”

“It’s not. Silly, that is.” He kissed her temple, both savoring the way their bond buzzed at the contact. “You’re sure?”

“Yup. I’m sure. What else do we need to do?”

“If we’re being thorough? A full medical. But I don’t feel like being that thorough right now. The TARDIS base scans should be fine.”

“TARDIS base scans?”

“Ah, right, have I never mentioned?” The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, mussing his hair. “Everyday, however many times we enter the TARDIS or whenever there’s a significant, unexpected change in our vitals, she scans us. To make sure we’re healthy. So, me too, not just you. If she thinks you might be getting sick, she adjusts the environment, adds different medicines into the air.”

“Into the air?” Her jaw dropped.

“I’ve very advanced technology on this ship, haven’t you noticed?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking just a little (and got a swat for his trouble).

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Rose decided, straightening up.

And so they got on with it. Really, it didn’t take very long - she finished up the telepathic assessment in under 20 minutes. During which the Doctor tried and failed to compile her TARDIS scans. He put on his specs and glared at the screens, thinking unflattering things to his time ship.

“Ugh, I don’t think that helped my headache,” his bondmate complained, setting down the tablet.

“Oh. I didn’t really think of that. Could you come over here? I need your hand.”

“What for?” she asked, coming up behind where he was sitting next to the monitors and draping her body over her back.

“She won’t let me look at your scans without your permission.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Well, that’s polite. Where’s my hand go?”

“Right in here,” he said, pointing at a white iridescent box. “And no, it’s not polite. I’m your doctor!”

“Mmm, yeah, you are,” Rose agreed, licking the shell of his ear before obediently sticking her hand into the reader.

All of the doctor-ly things he had previously been thinking about fled his mind, followed by telepathic laughter and a few very suggestive images.

Minx, he mentally chastised.

Mmm, but all yours.

“So!” he shouted (on accident), “I’ll just set your 6d scans and assessment to configure. And the TARDIS has finished graphing your daily scans with a focus on your telepathic centers. Want to know the results, or …?”

“Yeah, tell ‘em to me,” she whispered into his ear, and how did she do this?

I thought you had a headache?

She didn’t bother responding to that, instead taking a seat in his lap. The Doctor had to crane his neck in order to look at the computer screens. It was very hard to focus with his wife massaging his shoulders. But he eventually managed, eyes widening and mouth falling open as he read the readout.

It was pretty much what he’d suspected, but still. It’s one thing to theorize and another to see the evidence right in front of him.

“What? What is it?”

Rose stopped teasing him, looking back and forth between him and the monitors of Circular Gallifreyan.

“Bad Wolf.”

“Wait, what?”

He finally pulled his eyes away from the screens and focused on his bondmate, who was beginning to panic.

“It’s nothing bad,” the Doctor was quick to reassure her. “You’re fine. Perfectly healthy. It’s just, when you and the TARDIS merged, you had to connect telepathically. Humans, you’ve got loads of possibilities in your DNA that you never evolved to use. Telepathy is one of those things, the markers are already there. So what the TARDIS did was activate them, which allowed you two to properly communicate. Remove the Vortex, though, and the knowledge of how to use the telepathy disappears. But if you look at the progression from then to now, there’s been steady improvement. You’re stretching the muscles, so to speak.”

“And that’s … it’s fine?”

“Perfectly fine,” he repeated, hugging her tightly. “None of it’s normal, but I can’t say I’ve ever liked normal. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I can’t be certain, but assuming your trends hold, you’ll quickly become a stronger telepath than I am. Provided you have lessons.”

“Like more telepathy lessons than usual?” She frowned. “We have those all the time.”

“Not necessarily more often. More varied, though. Ohhh, I’m going to have to do even more reading. And I’ve not even started. I should really get on that.”

“Yeah, but not right now.” Rose stood and then began playing with his tie.

“Oh, definitely not right now. I was, you know, speaking in general, relative terms.”

The Doctor slid to the edge of his chair and went to take his glasses off.

Leave ‘em, his wife projected.

And he was quite delighted to wait to do all of this research until after she inevitably fell asleep.

[august-anon]

Touch

Hey hey! Very nervous about this because, unlike Sanders Sides, I have not written for TAZ for over 2 years, and I also have not listened to Balance for over a year so I wasn’t sure I nailed their voices. The wonderful, talented, kind, amazing @cefsticklestoo​ looked this over for me, though, and she said it was good, so here I go lol.

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Balance

Ship(s): Taakitz

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Taako/Ler!Kravitz

Word Count: 2335 words

Summary: Touch and Taako have always had an interesting relationship, but it was time he started figuring it out with this new world, since they seemed to be sticking around.

[ao3 link]

----------------------------

Touch was an interesting thing for Taako.

For so long, it had just been him and Lup. The Taaco twins against the world. And most days, it truly had felt like the world was against them. They didn’t have an easy childhood or adolescence, but Taako liked to think that’s why he’d survived so long through all the bullshit he’d been through.

Even with the Starblaster crew, the people who became their family, people as close to his heart as Lup (and that wasn’t easy to do), touch had not come easily.

They had held their aloof personas, darting out of hugs and away from fond touches with their usual bravado, making a joke of it as they went. Even as Lup and Taako had practically attached themselves to each other at the hip, molding into each other when the other was near, they did not let the rest of the crew touch.

It took quite a few cycles before anyone besides each other was able to lay a hand on them. Of course it was Magnus, the stupid man (more of a child back then, to the two of them with their lifespans and his startling youth) was practically a golden retriever in a human’s body. He was excitable and affectionate and he grew on you like a fungus, getting under your skin and making you fond of him without you even realizing.

Then it was Barry. Then Merle. Lucretia and Davenport were the last to be invited into the physical contact gang, though not for lack of love. They were simply more reserved people, which the twins (and everyone else on the Starblaster) had come to respect, and even endear.

But they were family. It made sense for them all to hang off each other like jungle gyms, touching whenever touch was allowed. It was just the way of the Taaco’s when someone became close to them, became family.

Which was why Taako was so torn with the new people in their lives.

Angus was a whole new can of worms that Taako wasn’t necessarily ready to open, though he really should work on that before it was too late, now that all the world saving was done. The rest of their new friends weren’t as pressing in that matter (except maybe Carey and Killian, possibly Avi, but they seemed fine to give him time to figure himself out for the time being), but he really needed to figure out what he was going to do with that kid, who they were to each other.

But Kravitz. That was his focus right now.

Kravitz, his beautiful Bone Daddy. Kravitz, his whirlwind romance. Kravitz, the one he kissed at the end of the world. Kravitz, the one he was certain he was beginning to fall in love with.

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought? Taako had never been in love before, it really wasn’t fair of Kravitz to spring all these feelings on him now.

But Kravitz. The man sitting on his couch at that exact moment, waiting for Taako to bring out the hot cocoa he’d made for them since neither of them had been sleeping well since the almost-end-of-the-world, and were both somewhat stressed with the rapidly approaching wedding of Carey and Killian. (Taako was not ready. Weddings were too mushy. Magnus was going to cry, and if Magnus cried, Taako would cry and have to pretend he wasn’t crying).

Taako took a deep breath and grabbed the mugs, walking out into the sitting area of their room in the BoB (which, it was a little uncomfortable staying there now, he had a lot of things to work out before it became okay again, if it ever would, but he didn’t really have many other places to live at the moment. At least Merle and Magnus were out, currently), setting them both on the coffee table.

Taako moved to sit down near Kravitz. Kravitz lifted his arm in invitation. Taako paused.

There was a standstill for a moment that Taako hoped Kravitz didn’t notice before he made a bold decision and sat down, pressed up against Kravitz from his thigh to his shoulder, and pulled his feet up onto the couch next to him. Kravitz seemed to relax at Taako’s decision and wrapped his arm around him so that his fingers rested against Taako’s side.

And it was nice. Taako didn’t feel like fleeing, he wasn’t scared or nervous (okay, he was a little nervous, but he would never in his life admit that to anyone). The touch didn’t feel wrong. In fact, it felt so incredibly right.

So Taako curled further into Kravitz, snatching the mugs off the coffee table to hand one to Kravitz so they could both drink. Thankfully, the hot chocolate had cooled off enough in Taako’s dawdling to drink, a comfortable warmth instead of a burning heat.

Taako thought he was in the clear, that he had managed to hide his hesitance well enough from Kravitz that he didn’t notice, but that proved to be false as they reached the mid-point of emptying their mugs. 

Kravitz interrupted the companionable silence. “Are you not big on cuddling? Or touching? It’s okay if you aren’t, I won’t mind.”

Curse his wonderful undead boyfriend for being so sweet and considerate and actually making Taako want to discuss the issue instead of brushing it all off with a joke as usual.

Taako sighed and set his mug down on the coffee table again, Kravitz leaning forward to follow suit. His hand shifted nervously against Taako’s side, as if he felt like he was overstepping, but he didn’t remove it yet. Taako stared forward at the doorway to Magnus’s room, not looking Kravitz in the eye.

“If you asked Lup,” Taako started, speaking startlingly quietly, “she’d say I was the most cuddly bastard in the world.”

Taako paused, searching for words in a way that felt very not-him. Kravitz remained silent, giving him time to work it out.

“Not sure if the rest of the crew would share that sentiment, but physical affection is definitely not uncommon. It’s just weird. Hard to decide when I trust someone enough to let it happen.”

Taako finally turned to look at Kravitz, something twisting and stirring in his heart at the painfully soft look he was sending him. Taako wanted to look away, put up his haughty facade again as he cuddled up to Kravitz and drank his cocoa and pretended he wasn’t soft on the inside, but something in Kravitz’s eyes kept his gaze there.

“So you trust this, trust me, enough to let it happen?” Kravitz asked softly.

Except his words were accompanied by a squeeze to Taako’s side. It was probably meant as comfort or encouragement or affection, but it hit certain pressure points far too well, leaving Taako to do his best to cover up a gasp and a jump so high that he practically ended up in Kravitz’s lap.

Wait. He could use that.

Taako quickly readjusted himself to sit in Kravitz’s lap completely, trying to make it look like it was part of the same movement as before. He gave Kravitz one of his flirtatious smiles and turned on the charm, wrapping his arms around Kravitz’s neck.

“I’m in your lap,” Taako teased, “what do you think?”

Kravitz let out a startled laugh, wrapping both hands around Taako’s waist to intertwine at the base of his spine. “I guess that proves it, doesn’t it?” He chuckled.

Taako let out a pleased hum and relaxed, preparing to reach for his mug again. Kravitz was warm (which was strange and new, but certainly not a bad thing) and so was the hot cocoa, and while Taako didn’t necessarily think he could sleep yet, some more time spent just like that and he might be able to.

“But,” Kravitz said cheekily, “I am very interested to know why you vaulted onto my lap so quickly.”

Taako froze, trying to bury down a look that was some mix between panicked and excited. Panicited. 

Kravitz’s hand inched along his back to grip his side once more. “Did it have something to do with this?” He asked, and squeezed once more, this time with purpose.

This time, Taako’s cover-up was not as graceful. He yanked his arms down from around Kravitz’s neck, sticking his elbows tightly to his sides. He used one hand to cover his mouth and the other to start pushing at the hand Kravitz had on his waist as he squirming in Death’s lap.

Kravitz laughed. “Oh, this will be fun, I think.”

And suddenly both hands were squeezing up and down Taako’s sides. Not-quite-contained squeaks were muffled by the hand over his mouth, but Taako was determined not to embarrass himself by giggling. Kravitz hummed thoughtfully, quickly pinching his hips and the edges of his stomach before returning to squeezing his sides.

And here’s the thing.

Taako didn’t necessarily mind tickling. In fact, at times he could quite enjoy it, both giving and receiving. Pan knows the Starblaster crew had plenty of such “bonding moments,” not to mention he and Lup themselves. But only Lup knew about Taako’s true feelings surrounding the silly, affectionate action. He had an image to keep, after all. If people knew how much he liked it, they’d think he’d gone soft (or, worse, realize he had secretly been soft the whole time).

And another thing: when was the last time Taako had laughed? A real, true laugh. Not a laugh concocted perfectly for the situation at hand, carefully faked to sound as natural as possible. Not a barely-there chuckle at Magnus and Merle’s goofs, even still disguised to hide the true sound of it. Not a laugh to mock or be cruel or tease. A real laugh.

Truthfully, it was probably back sometime in that century he just regained.

And Taako was nothing if not competitive. He had a record going now, after all. If he hadn’t truly laughed in that long, he should really see how much longer he could keep it up.

But then Kravitz’s hands weaseled under his elbows and started skittering up and down his rib cage and Taako lost it. He forgot how bad that spot was. Lup knew, get Taako’s ribs or thighs and he would agree to just about anything you wanted.

“K-Krav” Taako cried through his laughter, hand flying down from his mouth to try and push the offending hands away.

Kravitz’s hands faltered for a moment, giving Taako a brief moment of respite. He glanced up to see Kravitz staring at him in wonder. 

“What?” He snapped.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard any music ever so beautiful before,” Kravitz whispered in awe, still staring into Taako’s flushed face.

Taako huffed. “Well, don’t get used to it. It’s not going to happen ofte--!”

Taako’s laughter turned to shrieks and cut off his own sentence as Kravitz’s hands started spidering back up his ribs in the middle of his sentence. His fingers had traveled up and slightly back to that awful spot, just above the middle of his rib cage, slightly on his back.

Taako couldn’t remember the last time he laughed that hard. Once Kravitz found that little spot that made him cackle and almost scream, his fingers abused it in the terrible (wonderful) ways they possibly could. They dug in with fingertips, they fluttered with a barely-there touch, they skittered around playfully, they traced with fingernails. Every new technique made the sensations wash over him anew, leaving him in desperate stitches with barely any room to speak.

And Taako realized that he missed this. Sure, he’d always had an affinity for it, loved playing around with the people he called family, would occasionally get a craving, but he never thought it was a big part of his life. Evidently, his body (and mind, not that he was admitting that) missed the playful torture more than he thought. Despite the fact that he was desperately running out of air, he wanted Kravitz to continue forever.

But Kravitz did stop soon after that as Taako’s laughter went silent, rubbing comfortingly up and down his torso. Taako faceplanted into Kravitz’s chest as his own heaved for breath, letting out residual giggles with every exhale.

“Ne—Never do that again,” Taako breathed out the lie through his residual giggles, trying to save face.

Kravitz chuckled above him. “Sorry, love.” (And didn’t that just made Taako’s heart flutter in the most embarrassing of ways) “But I don’t necessarily think you mean that.”

Taako sat up with a scowl, “And just what makes you think that, huh?”

Kravitz smiles softly at him. “Well you see, Taako is a man who knows what he wants, and what he doesn’t. You wouldn’t have let that go on for as long as you did if you actually meant that.” Kravitz’s smile turned cheeky. “Plus, you hardly struggled and never once said ‘no’ or ‘stop.’”

Taako sputtered hopelessly, feeling himself blush to the tips of his ears.

“It’s cute,” Kravitz teased, pulling him closer again. “Relax, your little secret is safe with me.”

“It better be,” Taako grumbled, but fell into Kravitz’s embrace without any struggle.

Kravitz held him tightly and hummed, the sound rumbling through Taako where he laid on Kravitz’s chest. He glanced up at Kravitz just as he glanced down at Taako. They both smiled.

“Hey,” Kravitz said.

“Hey,” Taako replied.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Kravitz laughed and leaned in. The kiss was short, but sweet. They hadn’t kissed since that terrible day, the world collapsing around them. At the time, Taako wasn’t sure if he would ever get to do it again.

He was so glad he got to do it again.

When they pulled away, Taako cuddled into Kravitz’s chest, curling up in his lap like a cat and just letting Kravitz hold him, running a hand through his hair and across his back. Within minutes, he was falling asleep.

It was the best sleep he’d had in years.

[brooklyn-1918]

Mighty Oaks

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter, The Howling Commandos. Pretty much everyone from The First Avenger. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Summary: Steve has always been told “mighty oaks from little acorns grow.” He just never knew what that meant to him.

Warnings: Language, poor written smut, fluff and angst. 18+ only.

Word count: 4550

A/N: I wrote this for @thinkoutsidethebex​ ‘s writing challenge, which I had a hell of a lot of fun with. It’s also my first time that I have posted anything that I have written for one of my ships, so I don’t know how well this is going to blow over. 

Also, I got the proverb “mighty oaks from little acorns grow”.

Anywho, enjoy.

People say that mighty oaks from little acorns grow, right? Right now, Steve’s not convinced. Alone and cornered in an alley, the date is August 18, 1942, 4:30 in the afternoon. And Steve is already on his third fight today. 

In his defence, the first one was NOT his fault, and the second he didn’t fully mean to start. This one, though, Steve damn well meant it. He stands defiantly towards the bully, chin jutted out and fists balled at his sides. The red headed man laughs, stepping forward. Steve takes one step closer and the man laughs harder.

Steve can’t for the life of him figure out what’s so funny. Until he sees the man flex his fingers, and a small silver knife falls from his sleeve, and into his grip. 

“Shit.” Steve mutters, eyes darting around for some sort of escape. 

“You really think that your life is worth it? Protecting some girl?” The slimeball twirls the knife in his fingers, taunting, toying. Steve can’t find a way out. So he does the one thing he can think of. 

He dives to the left, crashing into a pile of trash bins, and grabs a lid. Popping up, he hurls the lid with all his might. Granted, not much might, but points to him for trying. It spins through the air, and crashes into the man’s nose with a sickening crunch, making him stumble backwards with his hand over his face. Steve hurtles a pile of trash, and races out of the alley. 

The guy shouts behind him, and Steve narrowly avoids the knife as it is hurled at him with scary accuracy. Steve doesn't stop running until he stumbles through his front door, on the verge of having an asthma attack. 

Bucky looks up from his spot on the couch, untying his shoes from the day’s work. The brunette stands abruptly, dropping one shoe off his lap, and shaking the other off his foot as he trots over to him. 

“Stevie? What happened?” He puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, and wrenches him upright, looking at all the bruises and nicks on his face and hands. Steve gives him a grumpy look and refuses to talk. Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh, and leads him to sit on the sofa. 

He leaves to grab a washcloth, running it under the bathroom faucet. Taking it back in, he wipes away the street grime and the stray drops of blood, going gently around the tender skin of his black eye. 

“What happened?” Bucky tries again, placing two fingers under his chin and lifting his head. Steve frowns again, and begins to recount the stories of his three separate encounters. And by the time he is done, Bucky has sat on the floor in front of him, staring dumbly at the little blond. 

“You’re lucky I love you, you punk.” Bucky manages to say, shaking his head and dropping the now warm cloth next to him. He pushes up with a tired arm to lean forward, his lips connecting with Steve’s. 

Steve smiles as he wraps a hand around Bucky’s nape, pulling him closer. Bucky swings around to sit on the couch, moving Steve to sit on his lap, kiss never breaking. Bucky begins to work at the knot of Steve’s tie as Steve begins to grind down, growing harder by the second. 

Steve pops the buttons of Bucky’s dirty white henley, before moving onto the buttons of his own button down. Bucky trails his fingers down Steve’s back, then slides them around to firmly grip his boyfriend’s waist, grinding up against him. 

He jumped slightly as Steve’s cold fingers slid under his shirt, working it up and over his head, their mouths only breaking apart once he needed to pass the shirt over. He tosses it, not caring where it landed, and begins to leave a trail of kisses down Bucky’s jaw, to his neck, and finally, to his shoulder, sucking at his pulse point. Bucky groans as Steve runs his hands over his toned abs and chest, then quickly moves his hands to rid Steve of his own shirt, exposing his thin frame. Bucky moves his hands back to Steve’s hips, and stands abruptly, Steve hooking his feet behind Bucky. Moving slowly, he makes it to the bedroom, shutting the door and collapsing down on the old mattress.

_____

It's June of the next year, Steve has just been denied enlistment for the fifth time, and he still somehow has found himself cornered in another alley, this time for trying to get some asshole to stop shouting out during a picture. Just his luck. His eyes dart around, and he does it again. He grabs the lid of a trash bin, holding it in front of him like a shield. 

He isn’t fast enough when the guy swings his fist around to connect with his jaw, knocking him to the ground with a grunt. 

“Hey!” He hears.

“Pick on someone your own size.” Steve knows that voice. He pushes himself up and turns around just as the guy is running out of the alley. Steve can feel his stomach drop out as he lays eyes on his boyfriend, clad in a military uniform.

“How many times is this? And really, Jersey?” Bucky is busy straightening out the medical examination card, eyes down, unsure if he would be able to take the look he just KNOWS is on Steve’s face. Steve draws in a shaky breath, then speaks. 

“You got your orders.” He doesn't pose it as a question, but he keeps his voice low, masking the brokenness of it all. Bucky finally looks up, giving a mock salute.

“Sergeant James Barnes, 107th.” Bucky places his arm around Steve’s shoulders with a little laugh, then pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. 

“Come on.” Bucky huffed a laugh, forcing a smile to his face. 

“Where we going?” Steve asked, trying to keep the solemn tone from his voice. It wasn’t working. Bucky bit his lip and gave a shake to the blond. 

“The future. I got us some cover tonight.” 

_____

The “date” went about as well as any cover date could have gone. To the outside world, it looked like Bucky was with the brunette, and Steve was with the blonde, not that it was two illegal pairings.

Of course, the Stark expo had not held Steve’s interest for very long. The floating car was OK, but when he had turned around, there was an enlistment sign, pointing him in the right direction. With a glance back over his shoulder, he decided that he could try his luck. He snuck off to go find it.

Bucky had caught up with him quickly, giving him a little push from behind and telling him that they were going to bring Dottie and Claire dancing. Steve told him he could go on without him, that he was going to try again. Bucky had gotten mad, getting into a little argument. 

Bucky hadn’t been able to stay mad for long, though. He shook his head and brought Steve in for a hug, wishing he could kiss him silly in public. That was the last time Bucky would see Steve for another three months, the last time he would see Steve at that size. 

Steve got into the supersoldier program that night. 

_____

Steve thinks about the phrase his mother had told him years ago.

“Mighty oaks from little acorns grow, now don’t you forget that Steven Grant Rogers.” She had ruffled his hair and sent him to bed. 

Yeah, Steve is REALLY not feeling that. He has fallen in the mud again, grunting as he tries to get his thin legs back under him. Hodges had hit him with the stock of the training rifle again, right to the gut. If looks could kill, Steve was pretty sure that he would have killed him by now. 

Hell hath no fury like an angry Steve Rogers. 

So he runs harder, barely overtaking the guy in the second to last position. He drops the gun and jumps at the rope ladder, but his leg slips through and he falls back, an annoyed look on his face as the drill sergeant yells at him and a few of the other guys laugh at him. 

“I bet Bucky didn’t have to go through this.” He grumbles to himself as he pulls back up, resuming his climb. 

It was these very events that made it hard to believe he was the one chosen to partake in the experiment. At first, he thought it was some sick joke they were playing on him. Then, when he returned to the barracks and his was the only stuff there, it sunk in. 

_____

Steve lay strapped to the table as it flipped up, the doors closing around him. Dr. Erskine had said that the serum would not only give him a pristine physical form, but would cure any and all illnesses he had. And by God he hoped he was right. He hoped that he was right when him and Bucky would sit up, talking late into the night about how neither of them thought their love was an illness. He hoped he was right that there was one thing the serum would not be able to change. 

Love was pain, and he was willing to live with the pain he sufferers every day in order to not give up Bucky. That's the one thing he doesn't think he would be able to live with. Giving up Bucky. 

The door shuts and the pain starts. Dull at first, but it grows until he feels like his bones are on fire, his vision going white. He tries not to yell out, but as it grows unbearable, he cries out. He can hear shouting for the machine to get turned off, so he shouts for them to keep going. He grits his teeth and stays quiet.

He can hear the strap around his stomach break, the thrumming of the machine deafening, the light blinding. Outside, sparks fly and the power dies all at once, leaving Steve trapped in the hot metal sarcophagus. The doors pop open and let in a rush of much welcomed cool air. He may not yet be mighty, but he certainly is bigger.

He opens his eyes as the doctor and Howard Stark help him off the mechanism. Steve thinks for a panicked moment, his love for Bucky doesn't seem to have been changed. Then Peggy asks him how he feels, reaching out to just barely touch his newly defined pectoral muscle. His skin crawls at the touch, and he resists the urge to smile because, yup, he still is very much in love with Bucky. They were right. He smiles. 

_____

Steve’s next two months fly by in a storm of dancing USO girls, and propaganda. And as he sits backstage of the latest show, in the middle of rainy Italy, he can’t help but think about how close he could be to Bucky, to his second half of his heart. 

His hand absently sketches out a monkey, riding on a unicycle and carrying his shield. 

“Hello, Steve.” He jumps at the voice, and turns to look over his shoulder, catching sight of Peggy Carter. 

“Hi.” He says, a little surprised. She smiles and sits next to him, trying to give her comfort to him. All he can see himself as is the dancing monkey. A horn sounds and it makes him jump again, looking to the commotion of people hauling wounded out of an ambulance. 

“They look like they’ve been through hell.” He says. Peggy hums beside him, and gives an explanation. 

“Your audience contained what's left of the 107th.” Steve’s stomach drops to his toes, the blood drained out of his face. He asks for confirmation, but doesn't get it as his patience has run out, and he’s racing out to Colonel Philips’s tent. 

His one goal is to get Bucky back. 

_____

Steve storms the castle. Or, factory in this case. He has unleashed his full fury, teeth grit, knuckles bloodied. He races around trying to find the prison ward, then unlocking all the cages. Hundreds of prisoners flood into the hall, but none of them the one he is so desperately searching for. He takes off in the direction that one of them points in, hoping, praying to any god there might be, that Bucky is still alive. 

He finds him strapped to a table, muttering his numbers, eyes glazed over. Steve quickly makes sure the room has no video feeds, and he rips the straps off. 

“Bucky!” He calls, placing his hand over his beloved’s cheek, smoothing his thumb over the bone. Bucky’s eyes slip back into focus, and he squints at Steve.

“Steve?” He asks, lifting his arm to grip the blond’s shoulder. He looks confused for only a minute until Steve bends down to lock lips with him. Like Prince Charming waking Snow White from her poisoned slumber, Bucky bolts upright. 

“Come on, we gotta go Buck.” Steve helps him off the table, and they hobble their way out of the factory, questions of how and why and when rattling from Bucky’s mouth. 

“I’ll explain later.” Is what Steve eventually gives Bucky.

_____

Steve doesn't leave Bucky’s side for the next few days. They sit in Steve’s dimly lit tent, rain pouring on top of them. Sitting side by side, Steve’s hand rests on Bucky’s knee as he explains things. 

“And here we are, sitting in this muddy hell.” Steve finishes. Bucky hums, tracing up Steve’s muscular forearm with one finger. Bucky leans his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, testing out the new odd feeling of having both more muscle padding and more height. He switches so his chin is resting on his shoulder, his icy blue eyes staring into Steve’s sky blue. 

Steve leans down to kiss him, tongue tracing the seam of his lips for entry. Bucky yields, and their kiss deepens. Steve twists his body so they are facing each other, one leg on the bed, the other dangling over the edge. Hands card through hair, and breathing gets more erratic. 

This is how Peggy finds them. 

“Captain, we need to discuss--” She walks into his tent, eyes trained on the file in her arms before looking up. They had broken apart in time to not have actually been caught in the act, but their appearances were proof enough. Both wore their undershirts with casual base pants, matching disheveled hair. Steve had a hickey at the base of his neck, and Bucky was covered in little nips.

Steve stood quickly, eyes wide in terror. They were sure to be thrown out of the army, most likely put in jail or put through correctional treatment. Bucky remained frozen on the bed. Peggy’s jaw dropped, file drooping until it was at her side. Steve reached his hand out, then withdrew it like he was going to get burned. 

“Look, Peggy, I can ex--”

“I knew it.” Peggy whispers, looking from one to the other. They looked at her dumbfoundedly.

“Your secret is safe with me. I’ll just leave this here.” She says as she places the file on the end of Steve’s cot. She turns to go back out into the rain, but stops to say one last thing. 

“You may want to consider something a bit more private.” She smiles warmly at them, and exits, the flaps swinging lightly as they close. 

_____

Not a week later they find themselves walking through the woods around base, both of them having the day to themselves. Naturally they decide to spend it together. Steve holds out his arm to stop Bucky, and points up the hill to a stone outcropping, more rock forming a cave underneath. 

They haul each other up, climbing inside, where it’s surprisingly warm. Steve takes off his shirt, leaving his undershirt, and balls it up to use as a pillow. Bucky rests his head on Steve’s chest, and gripps his tank top. They can see the whole base from the cave, high on the hill above the treetops. Beyond, is a town, half destroyed by bombs, but still standing. 

“It’s nice up here.” Bucky comments, his voice echoing quietly off the back wall, sounding around the small space. 

“Yeah. Too bad we can’t spend more time here.” Steve sighs. He brings his hand up to twist through Bucky’s hair, playing with the short strands at the base of his neck. Bucky chuckles softly.

“May as well make the best of it then.” Steve is almost confused at his words, but then the brunette climbs on top of him, straddling his waist. Steve grins wickedly as he immediately goes to pull Bucky’s shirt down his shoulders. He sits up, holding Bucky in place by his hips, which have begun to grind down against him. Bucky slides his fingers under Steve’s undershirt, then up the toned stomach and chest, gathering the fabric on the way, stopping briefly to pinch at Steve’s nipples, which are hardening just the same as some other things. He finally lets go and slides the shirt off, before removing his own. 

“You’re beautiful. Did you know that?” Steve asks, a flirty smile on his face. 

“You only tell me every day.” Bucky retorts. Steve growls and flips them over, pinning Bucky to the ground. With his hands over his wrists, he begins to move his hands up slowly, a silent command for Bucky to leave his arms on the ground. Bucky twitches as Steve’s light touches tickle the skin on his arms, causing Steve to see if what he was doing was alright. Bucky gave a nod and Steve moved down, unbuttoning Bucky’s pants. He slipped his fingers under the edge of his boxers, then he quickly shoved them down, exposing Bucky’s excited member. 

Steve trailed kisses down from his navel, towards the inside of his thigh, giving Bucky a few strokes. 

“So beautiful.” Steve murmurs as he sinks his mouth down around Bucky’s length, precum drizzling out of the tip. Bucky gasps, and can’t help as his hands go to Steve’s head, holding him in place. His hips buck as Steve begins to move up and down, breathing deeply through his nose. 

He pulls off of him with a wet pop, saliva trailing from his lip all the way down. Even in the dim light, Steve can see how his lover’s eyes are almost black with lust. He’s sure his are the same. Bucky sits up, hooking his hands under Steve’s armpits, dragging him up to lay on top of him. Steve happily goes with him, but props himself on his elbows, hovering almost nose to nose. Eyes locked, Bucky snakes his hands between them to undo Steve’s pants, pushing them down his hips. 

Steve dives forward to kiss the life out of Bucky, nipping at his lip before going back down his neck. Bucky reaches around to give Steve a few experimental tugs, Steve hard and aching as he moans softly. The blond moves to prop up on just one arm, the other joining where Bucky’s hand lay. Steve pushes one finger into Bucky, bending his knuckle just slightly, enough to bring Bucky up as he arches his back into Steve, a gasp escaping his slack jaw. 

“God… Steve--” is all Bucky can manage to say, squirming slightly under him. Steve chuckles slowly, adding in a second, then third finger, twisting them to have Bucky gasp out his name the same way that he just did. 

Pulling his fingers out, Bucky wimpers, feeling empty at the loss of the touch. He is about to protest before he groans in ecstasy, Steve’s cock filling him up as he thrusts in almost to his base. 

“This feel good?” Steve asks, his voice low, thumb now rubbing slow circles on Bucky’s side. The brunette grins widely, before he grabs Steve’s free hand and presses his fingers to his lips, kissing each knuckle. 

“Shit, Steve… Please…” He whines. Steve takes that as his cue, and begins to move his hips back and forth, rocking them to the beat of each breath he took. Bucky’s breath skips, rattling as he takes the steamy cave air in. Bucky nearly breaks Steve’s hand as he grips it. 

“Please.” Bucky begs, pushing his hips up to get more force. Steve smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth, nipping his lip on the way up. Bucky’s soft plea was everything Steve needed to start completely railing him, thrusts becoming slightly more erratic as he neared the edge. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect… And so damn tight.” Steve growled in his ear, sucking on his earlobe. Bucky’s back arched up once more, nails dragging down Steve’s back, leaving long red welts. Bucky moans as he cums, his juices spraying over Steve’s abdomen. 

Voices just down the hill make them panic. They are far, but can be made out as the voices of Falsworth and Dougan coming closer. Steve’s head snaps up, and he pulls out quickly, fixing his pants and tugging his undershirt back on, Bucky scrapes his back on the wall of the cave as he shoots up, undershirt thrown on, then green base shirt, buttoning up until the last two. 

Steve is fixing his hair, looking wildly around for his shirt, to which Bucky throws it at him, hitting him in the face just as the two Commandos pop their heads into the mouth of the cave. Steve laughs and kicks the toe of Bucky’s boot from his spot on the opposite wall, unfolding his shirt to sling back over his broad shoulders. 

“Hey, Cap.” Dougan says, pulling himself in, nodding to the sergeant sitting on the opposite wall. Steve is just managing to control his laughter, and to regulate his breathing when Falsworth clambers in, Bucky shooting him a mad grin. 

“What’re you doing the whole way up here?” Dougan asks as he slumps against the wall next to him, twirling his bowler hat in his fingers. Falsworth leans against the wall next to Bucky, looking back and forth between the two brooklynites. 

“Just getting reacquainted.” Steve says, causing Bucky to snort, reciprocating Steve’s kick with one of his own. 

“What about you?” Bucky questions, brushing some dirt off his pants. 

_____

The train rattles under the soldiers, speeding through the snowy alps. Bullets fly and beams of blue light blaze, the fight hot. Steve’s feet are knocked out from under him, and he goes crashing into the floor, his shield bouncing away from him. 

Bucky picks it up and fires at the German soldier once, twice, three times, shield held in front of him. The soldier turns and fires, blasting dead center to the shield, blowing the brunette sideways and through a hole in the side of the train car. 

Steve’s eyes widen and he throws the metal disk with everything he has, contacting it to his chest, where he picks up the sound of ribs breaking through the armour. Before the disk hits the ground again, he has scrambled to the hole, reaching out shouting over the whipping wind. 

“Grab my hand!” He cries, chest constricting. Bucky reaches out, his fingers brushing his love’s. His face is riddled with terror, hand trembling, but he can’t reach.

The bar breaks and time stands still. Steve can only stare, paralized with fear, feeling his heart shatter.

Bucky falls away with a shout.

As he’s falling, Bucky shuts his mouth to silence his scream. He can’t let Steve hear him like this. He can’t let his last memory be of Bucky’s anguish. 

So he twists to his left, enough that his arm catches on a jagged rock ledge, shattering the bone and tearing at the flesh. The last thing he remembers is landing on his back, his head hitting the ground and knocking him out. 

And as he lays on the ground bleeding out, he smiles as his life plays before him. One. Last. Time.

_____

Steve staggers out of the debriefing, barely containing his emotions. He stops in the middle of the camp, mud splashing up and over his boots, contemplating on if he should go back to his tent. 

Unknown to him, the commandos watched him as he turned and wandered into the woods. Unknown to him, the commandos followed. 

Once he got deep enough into the trees, he stopped, scanning the snowy landscape ahead of him. He dropped heavily to his knees, sitting back on his heels, hands lay palm up on his thighs. The tears fell down his cheeks swifter than rivers, his entire body shaking. 

They say mighty oaks from little acorns grow. In this moment he had never felt lower. Someone had taken an ax to his heart and hacked away until he was nothing but splinters. His head dropped so his chin hit his chest. 

With a growl growing in the back of his throat, he unclipped the shield from his back and stood. 

Hidden behind a few trees, the commandos narrowed their eyes, watching for what he would do. They were afraid to move, to make noise. They were scared that their own heartbreak would be heard by their captain. 

With a yell, Steve threw his shield toward a tree, watching as it’s edge sliced right through and lodged in the tree behind. With a crash, the pine fell, shuddering the ground. He walked forward to his shield, and removed it from the wood, staring at the slice for a moment before he wound back and sent his fist to connect with it, splintering the trunk. 

He shook his bloody, probably broken hand, warding off the blossoming pain. He twisted on his heel so he could walk to the fallen tree, sitting on the trunk. 

The tears came hot and fast once more, falling like someone had just blown the Hoover dam. 

The shield slipped from his grasp and landed in the snow. He moved his now free hands to hold his head up with his elbows propped on his knees.

He couldn’t let the troops see him like this. With the snot threatening to spill from his nose, and the irregular breathing, cheeks red and puffy. 

Slowly, the commandos made their way from behind the trees, placing their hands on his shoulders. They sat next to him, they comforted him as best they could. 

_____

The screaming cockpit filled his head. The plane was headed for the ice, and Steve was glad. 

Long ago Bucky and Steve had promised each other that they would be with each other until the end of the line. And this was it. 

Bucky had gotten off, and that left Steve still on the train. Steve was giving his life to save the lives of countless people, and if he had to go, he would choose it no other way. And as Peggy’s voice crackled over the radio, he smiled.

The plane hit the ice and the radio signal cut. Steve was thrown from his seat, and as he was struck unconscious, his life played before his eyes. 

They say mighty oaks from little acorns grow. And maybe they were right. Maybe Steve was. 

[tansypoisoning]

Trust

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Genres: Smut, some fluff

Ships: Bucky BarnesxReader

Relavant Characters: Reader (PoV), Bucky Barnes

Universe: Canon compliant (when? It is a mystery)

Content Warnings:  Smut, choking, referenced past trauma

This is my piece for @nastybuckybarnes Nasty 2k Challenge. My theme was ‘choking’ and I hope this fic is an adequate tribute~

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There was a sound, a rhythm, something that permeated the very air. It was impossible to say where it started – in the blood pumping in your veins, the beating of his heart, the prickling of your skin when his icy fingers glided over your body, their tremor when they came to rest against your neck. The origin of the song that rang through your body didn’t really matter. All you cared about was that it was now part of the two of you – wrapping around your throat – encompassing everything – squeezing ever so slightly – and connecting-

Then everything stopped. Bucky pulled away, and he was off of you in a second.

You sat up, meeting your boyfriend’s back as he was perched on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. You weren’t surprised, just disappointed – not on him, but on yourself. It had taken you months to get him to open up to you, even longer for him to trust you enough to begin a sexual relationship, and then you had to go and ruin everything by trying to bring your kinks into it.

“Bucky” you called out, kneeling by his side and bending over so you could see his face, but his hair was in the way “Are you okay?”

He nodded, inhaled sharply, then nodded again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” He straightened his torso and looked at the ceiling. He didn’t look angry, scary, or conflicted – no, that would be better. Bucky was expressionless, trying to find refuge in the mindset he had been forced intoo when he was being kept by Hydra. Detached, uncaring, unfeeling. He was free from the triggers that could turn him into a killing machine, but his trauma couldn’t be erased as easily. All of Shuri’s hard work, all the time he spent recuperating, all the trust you built, none of it would matter if you rolled all that progress back by only thinking of yourself.

“I’m sorry, I never should’ve asked.” You whispered.

“No, it’s...” He sighed “It’s not your fault, it’s not...”

You extended your fingers and rested them on his shoulder blade. There was no pressure, just a soft touch you hoped would comfort him. It was risky to touch him now; you could end up making him more upset than he already was, but you couldn’t let him close himself off.

He didn’t pull away or flinch, so you ran his hands over his broad back, feeling his muscles tense under your digits.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I pressured you into this.”

“No, you didn’t.” He closed his eyes “I thought I could do it. It’s my fault.”

You couldn't let him do this. If you let him blame himself for that situation, he could start feeling guilty about his time under Hydra’s control again. No matter that the blood in his hand had been put there when he was unconscious; it was still there and trauma couldn’t be overcome by mere rationalization. He had fought so hard to come to terms with it, you could never ruin it to satisfy a dumb desire.

“Hey, you’re okay. I’m okay too.” You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. “Let’s go to bed, Buck.”

Eventually, after a few moments nuzzling his jawline, you felt Bucky relaxing under you, but he still didn’t make an effort to lie down. Taking matters into your hands, you pulled him against your chest and reclined against the bed, bringing him with you. He let himself be turned around so you could rest his head on your chest and run your fingers through his hair. His heartbeat hammered against your sternum at first, but as the minutes passed it grew steady and soft. He’d fallen asleep in your arms, as he had done so many times before, and you exhaled loudly. No lasting damage.

You wished you could kick yourself for ever suggesting breathplay in the first place. You and Bucky had never really discussed the things Hydra had him do – it didn’t matter to you, and you didn’t want him to think it did – but it wouldn’t surprise you if the metal hand that was responsible for such soft caresses and deft strokes that made you come undone had strangled the life out of countless other people before. You knew how likely it was, and yet you still decided that asking him to choke you was a good idea? Your relationship was great, your sex life was great, and Bucky was happy – but you had to put it all on the line for a little thrill, didn’t you?

No, that was silly. You hadn’t been primarily motivated by the promise of a rush of adrenaline. Selfish as your request was, it had come from something a lot more intimate. The idea of being choked by your boyfriend didn’t scare you even a little bit. You’d trust Bucky with your life, would do it in a heartbeat, and you wished you could show him that, but you had been so eager you ignored all the little cues that indicated just how uncomfortable the mere possibility of hurting you like that made him.

Simply put, you’d fucked up, and Bucky was too sweet to even think you had.

You adjusted your body and kissed the top of his head. The knowledge that he still felt comfortable enough around you to sleep had you dozing off in a few minutes. To hell with that stupid choking thing; between a kink and your boyfriend, the choice was easy.

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Bucky woke up the next day, wished you a good morning, kissed you, then went off to take a shower, making no mention of the events of the night prior. Perhaps it would be expedient for you two to have an honest conversation about what had happened, but you didn’t want to bring it up. One half of you thought that he should be the one to do it when he felt comfortable and the other half was too afraid to even think about breaching the topic, so you didn’t.

Three weeks went by, and you had already come to terms with the fact that you wouldn't talk about that night if Bucky didn’t bring it up. He didn’t seem distressed, and you didn’t need breathplay to be happy. You felt guilty for wanting something that elicited such a visceral reaction from your boyfriend, but you couldn't change any of that, as much as you tried to hide your desires. You even managed to fool yourself into thinking you were doing a good job, too.

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You purred and arched your back as Bucky’s tongue traced a path from your navel to your mon pubis. It was a day off for both of you, and you had been in bed for the better part of the morning, getting lost in each other’s embrace. At this point you were so worked up that anything he did to you would have you whimpering beneath him in instants.

Your nails scraped his shoulders as he spread your legs and grinned at you before diving straight for your cunt. He usually opted for teasing you first, but he knew there was no need for that now; his lips had barely roved over your clit and you were already melting.

As Bucky went to town on your pussy, one of your hands left his back and traveled up your torso, squeezing a breast on its way, then rushing to grab a hold of your hair and finally settling on your neck. You didn’t even notice when you crushed your throat trying to prolong the heady feeling. Your grip on his locks slackened as you approached that familiar peak, but the relief of an orgasm never came.

You looked down to meet a pair of blue eyes peering at you, narrowed in interest. It wasn’t unusual for him to get you close to coming before he would start fucking you, but he wasn’t making any efforts to do that now. There was something in his mind, you could tell, but he didn’t speak it. You frowned at him, but he only he rubbed a stubbled cheek on your inner thighs in response.

“Buck, what are you doing?” You asked, fighting to keep the frustration from spilling from your words.

“Let’s try it again.” He murmured

“Try what?”

He pushed himself up on his elbows and crawled over your body until you were face to face. His desire was obvious, but it was overshadowed by something else… curiosity, determination?

Then you got it.

“No, Bucky...” You whispered and shook your head “I’m fine, I told you-”

“I want to do it.” He insisted. There was no hesitancy in his features, nothing that indicated that he wanted to try choking again just to make you happy.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing this.”

“I know.” He said “I want to do it. Trust me.”

He really was making this hard for you. You didn’t want Bucky to do something that would make him suffer just for you to get off, but you also didn’t want him to think you doubted him – you worried, it was all. In the end, you trusted him to know what was best for himself.

“Okay. Just remember, I don’t need this. All I need is you.” You winked and watched him barely resist the temptation to roll of his eyes at your corniness. “Do you still remember how to do it?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away and settled himself in between your thighs, pulling them over his hips and wrapping them around his torso “Remember to tap out if it’s too much.”

“I will.” You agreed, not wanting to sound patronizing by reminding him that he could tap out too.

Bucky entered you with his customary gentleness (no matter how hard you both went at it in the end, he was always tender at first unless you asked him to do otherwise) and braced himself over you. You slung your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It had been only a couple of minutes since you last had his lips on yours, but it felt like it had happened an eternity ago.

He made love to you at a leisurely pace, in no hurry to reach any sort of conclusion, but it wasn’t long before you were both panting and huffing.

“Bucky...” You pleaded with him.

His eyes widened. There it was, the remembrance and then the fear. The whole thing had been your idea in the first place, but Bucky had decided to try again on his own, and it didn’t feel right to question his reasons for doing so. He’d said he wanted to do it, and you weren’t going to suggest he had been deluding himself. All you felt you could do was reassure him.

“I trust you.” You smiled up at him and reached out to cup his cheek “I trust you to do what’s best, and I know you aren’t going to hurt me.”

That did it. Bucky took your hand from his face, squeezed it for a brief second then set it down by your side. He ran his fingers along the length of your neck, finally stopping on your jaw and resting his palm over your windpipe. You both took a deep breath – his a little deeper than yours – and he pressed against you. Your air was cut short, but you barely had time to enjoy your wooziness.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling his hand away from your neck after two seconds. You couldn't remember when you last saw him look this worried.

You nodded and pushed your head back against the cushion, further exposing your throat.

Bucky squeezed down again. He held on for about as long as he had the first time, but your oxygen deprived brain gave you a few more moments of euphoria.

“Again?” He didn’t even have to ask.

A few more rounds and your boyfriend felt confident enough to start thrusting into you again. He was careful, gentle, and yet it took him almost no time to have you on the edge of your orgasm, and it showed. You didn’t miss the mischievous glint in Bucky’s eyes when he pushed on your windpipe one last time to keep you from coming a few seconds longer. You whined and wiggled beneath him in hopes he would grant you your release, and he didn’t disappoint.

As soon as your airway was freed you came, kicking your legs and twisting your fists on the sheets below. Bucky picked up his pace and was soon grunting and cursing as he unraveled around you.

He slumped over and leaned his forehead against yours, breathing hard. You were still seeing stars when he finally rolled over to lie by your side. He gripped your shoulder and dragged you until you had your face on his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded against his chest, humming happilly. “Hey,” he used his vibranium hand to push your chin up, and he smiled at you when he saw your blissful expression “That good, huh?”

You laughed and swatted his hand away. “Don’t get cocky!” You warned. His smug smirk told you all you needed to know.

“Can’t be doing that too much.” He observed, pulling you even closer to kiss the top of your head.

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled, barely cognizant of what he was saying.

“Do you want to take a bath now or just go to bed?”

“Sleep now.” You answered after some thought. You hadn’t been giving the first option any serious consideration, you were just too tuckered out to form sentences properly.

You stayed tangled together (your arms clinging to his frame and his free hand brushing your hair) for a couple of minutes before he spoke again.

“Thank you.” Bucky whispered and you cracked an eye open to look at him in curiosity “For trusting me, I mean.”

You smiled and pecked his lips “Always, Buck.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Study Buddy

REAL LIFE: COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: SMUT AF

I giggled as I got changed into my little check skirt and thigh high socks trying to look as cute and sexy as I could. I had Thomas coming over tonight, we are both aware we like each other but being the cute shy little boy he is he won't make a move on me so I had decided to invite him over for study when my parents where out and make some moves on him, as soon as everything was ready the doorbell rang so I went getting it leaning in the door trying my best to look sexy "Hello Thomas" I smirk "Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh hello." He blushed as he looked at me his eyes caught my skirt first lingering on my high hemline, then my socks obviously amused by the cute school girl look the two created together, his eyes shyly moved up to my chest making him blush even harder a bright red already his eyes met my at last before quickly retreating to the floor holding his backpack with a nervous grip "Come on in then" I smile he blushed more and gently came inside my house, the second he was inside I shut the door leaving him trapped between me and the door "You uhh you look very nice tonight y/n" he smiled "Awww Thomas, that's so sweet of you to say" I smiled making sure I brushed against him as I moved away to my dinning table and he came and sat beside me getting his books out starting to study, I watched him a little sat with his book open twirling his pencil around in his fingers As he reads, his hair out its normal place where he had tried to fix it but it wasn't playing ball as he no doubt had a shower or bath before he came over and his hair wasn't compeletly dry yet when he left home, he looked tried already like he could pass out into his book the blush had gone now which made me giggle a little "Your so smart Thomas" I smile "Uhhh thanks y/n, your a hell of a lot smarter then I am. I mean you can do algebra," he says "that shits witchcraft" "It's not that hard" I laugh "It be witchcraft" he says "Come here" I smile taking his pencil making sure that I touched his hand when I did as I scooted my chair closee so our knees touched and got a bit of paper "let's do something simple, and let's make the letters simpler for you Tommy" I laugh "Let's imagine that each letter is s star wars character now each only has so many bullets or energy whatevers in there gun or space ship, and you don't know how any each had but know the overall amount" I explain "you following me?" I ask "Yeah" he shrugs "So if... 'Luke = Han = Chewy=

L + h + c = 387" "Okay..." He nods a little puzzled but keeping with me explainng it " And we know

H+ c = 232 L+h = 327

So what's the answer?" I ask "Uhhh I guess work backwards... Is the total is 387 but just Han and lukes make 327 then... Chewy has to only have 60 which take sixty away from 232 is 172 which is what Han has so but process of allimation Luke = 155 Han = 172 Chewy= 60" he explained "See it's not all that complicated" I smiled handing him back his pencil "I guess not, thanks y/n" he smiles "Humm your welcome Thomas" I smile giving his cheek a kiss and returning to my book, I saw him glow bright red dropping his pencil looking a little panicked till he returned to his book but then looked confused remembering he dropped his pencil so he sighed moving the chair out as it had fallen under the table I smirked as he went under there crossing my leg making sure to flash my panties as I read my book innocently he was taking an awfully long time down there to find his pencil till eventually he sat back in the chair blushing harder then before looking very nervous it was obvious he saw what I wanted him too "I uhhhh I uh I I'll be back in a minute" s says before he rushed off upstairs i assume to the bathroom or something I heard alot more sites up there then just going to my bathroom? And it's not like he would get confused he spend half is life here with me I shrugged as I heard water running upstairs I got his little notebook flicking a page or two and writing s little note 'hello Tommy, I hope this works as I plan for a small cute distraction 💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙😘' Then putting it back how it was as he came back "You alright?" I ask "Hu? Ohh yeah. I'm fine" he says sitting back with me and getting in with his studies for a while I kept my eyes on him alot And I think he noticed a little he glanced away from his book to look at me every so often but quickly returned to the book in hope I wouldn't notice him I smiled moving closer again and resting my head on his shoulder nuzzling into his neck a little he looked panicked glancing at me on his shoulder blushing hard again I could feel his heart rate going insane a moment "uhhhhhhhhh y/n..." He began "Ummmm your shirt is so soft Thomas" I smile snuggling closer "Uhh thank you" he answered unsure how to respond to me "Ummm I could lay here forever" I smiled Hugging his arm "I uhh I could have you laid here forever too" he blushed gently resting his head on my own and I sighing happily he kept working even with me like this till I noticed he turned his notebook to where o had left the note he liked confused moving away from me a little to read it I could tell he was reading it and as soon as he was done he turned to me and clearly was about to ask what I meant but I gave his lips the quickest little kiss I could I don't think had have ever seen Thomas so flustered. His face a bright red, his eyes wide in shock, he was trying to speak but no words came out his mouth but stutters and gibberish, his hands couldn't keep still messing with his hair, his other hand, the table just trying to stop his nerves "What uhhmmm what did you uhh you do that for?" He forced out "Because your cute" I shrug nuzzling into his neck again "I like you Thomas...I thought you knew by now" I smile "No.... i Had no literally no idea until like  today" he says "in fact I'm still kinda on the fence if your flirting with me or your just being friendly?" He blushed "Of course I like you silly boy" I smile Hugging him tightly "I - I uhh I like you too" he blushed "y/n could I uhh could I kiss you?" He asks and I nod he blushed hard again fixing some hair away from my face looking very nervous before he moved forward and gently kissed me I kissed back happily our kiss was very slow but very sweet and gentle his lips where soft a little chapped where he bites and licks them so much, it was funny I have been around Thomas so much but only now I really noticed his scent, like car oil, graphite pencils, dust on vynal and that aftershave he uses,I don't actually often smell the last one he normally does bother we it's just me he's hanging around with clearly he thought it was important tonight to bother to make himself clean and tidy for me, I pulled away from our sweet kisses and went back to work blushing a little myself, a first kiss with someone you really like and have know for a long time is always going to be a little awkward we both sat with our work I smiled alot very happy I got to kiss him atlast, he looked very happy but very worried like he was running though the kiss in his head enjoying it but worried all the same I smiled slipping my hand with his own and intertwining our fingers he smiled at me holding my hand tightly too. We sat like this for a while quietly just studying keeping our hands together as we did till his phone went off "Ohh shit, sorry I have to-" he says "It's fine go on" I laugh going back to my books h smiled giving my cheek a little kiss then my hand before he got up going answer his phone In the kitchen I smiled listening a little bit not intentionally evesdropping but I overheard a couple bits "I uhh I'm not sure." He says "I know- it's just studying" he says "I uhh yeah I might do, alright I'll text you later" he says and he quickly came back "Who as it?" I ask "Ohh my dad, just asking when I planned to bring the car home" he says "You can go if he's getting mad about it" I laugh "No it's okay, he can wait a little while longer. He was just getting worried since he uhh knows I'm here with you and all" he says "With me?" I laugh "Yeah, it's not that he doesn't trust you y/n! More that he uhh doesn't trust me... with you" he says "Why? What does your dad think your gonna do to me?" I laugh "What do you think he thinks I'm doing with you?" he laughs "what any dad assumes his son is doing when going to the house of s young lady" he explained "Oohh bouncing me on your cock" I laugh "Y/n!" He says in shock "don't talk like that, I'm not like that" he says "I know your not, but that's what most people assume" I shrug "when young men leave there houses looking all cute, dressed up and clean. Taking the car over to a young ladies house while here parents are out" I smirked cuddling his arm "I guess so," he blushed as we got back to our books for a while I kept noticing him looking at me then go back to his books before I caught him I smirked when I noticed the obvious bulge in his jeans so I giggled "what?" He laughs "Nothing" I giggled "Tommy? What this?" I ask grabbing his cock though his jeans "AHH!" He jumped very shocked to have my hand rather suddenly so close to such an intimate place "I uhhhhhhh uhhhh uhhhgg I uummmm" he stuttered trying to think straight "Could I see?" I ask innocently "Uhhhhhhhh" he stuttered "maybe later y/n" he blushed "Owww pretty please Thomas" I begged "I just wanna see and maybe have a play if I like it" I smirked rubbing my thumb on his jeans "If ... If I let you, would you... You know?" He asks and I nodded "Of course I would" I smiled getting faster moving my whole hand around more "Okay" he blushed so I moved my hand away shutting my books "That's enough studying for one night" I smirk holding his hand and tugging him over to sit with me on the sofa getting a blanket over us both to keep our activities a little more private I smiled pulling him to kiss me and he happily kissed me passionately I held both his hands a moment before undoing my top and letting him rest his hands on my breasts one in each hand softly gropeing them "Ummmm y/n..." He groans between kisses "Humm you like them Tommy?" I ask and he nods quickly not wanting to stop our kisses it made me giggle a little as I undid his jeans his cock insantly jumping free "no boxers? What where you planning tonight then?" I smirked "Nothing! They are uncomfortable when I have a bonner and I know I always get a bonner around you so I didn't bother" he explained "Any excuse" I smirk grabbing his base looking at him better "umm Thomas, it's so big" I smirked "Yeah? Could uh could I play with these while your playing with that?" He asks and I nod so he smiled pulling me back to our now rather lustful kiss turning it quickly into lustful making out our tongues all over each other as I gently stroked his hard cock noticing pre cum already dripping down him as his hands moved to my back searching for the clasps on my bra he found them unclipping them all and pushing my bra down enough he could slip his hands in but my bra still be on me he softly groped my breasts as fast as I was stroking him "ummm faster please, I'm not sure how much longer I can-" he began so I smirked roughly and quickly pumping his cock my hand moving from base to head over and over up and down his shaft as we kissed his hands still gropeing and squeezing my breasts he grunted, groaned and moaned often Into our kiss I could tell he was close by the amount of times his hips bucked into my hand I smiled as one of his hands left my breasts and slipped under my skirt and panties he felt around a little lost a moment before pushing a finger inside me "Uhhh! Thomas!" I moaned as I pulled away "Uhh fuck your tight" he groans trying to slip another finger after a couple attempts it works giving him two fast as rythmic fingers inside me as I roughly pumped his cock as we kissed his other hand on my breast feeling and gropeing alot  my other hand on his neck playing with his soft hair as we made out I was struggling to keep my focus having his fingers inside me until I moved my hand from his neck to help him out alittle moving his thumb onto my clit he got the message rubbing in it softly as he finger fucked me so I sped up my hand "shit sorry, I forgot about that bit" he blushed "It's okay, come on I'll race you" I laugh "Okay" he smirked pulling me back to our kiss speeding up his fingers rubbing on my clit fast and hard I smirked pumping and rubbing on his cock so fast my arm was hurting I knew we where both close but neither of us was going to stop we where both to needy to close ourselves to stop pleasuring each other "uhh uuhh y/n please..." He begs "What?" I asked "I'm close darling, please please faster" he begs so I sped up as much as I could as so did he "Uhh uuuh Thomas Thomas!" I whined "I'm gonna cum" I moaned "Uuuuhhh fucking hell! I know I know I'm gonna cum too" he moans both of us beyond the point of no return, both of us far to desperate to stop for anything- "We're home!" My parents smiled opening the door we quickly pulled away going to each end of the sofa miles way from each other I did my bra back up and Thomas did his jeans back up as they came into the room I giggled a little tugging my skirt down alot so I didn't look so sexy anymore Thomas just sat blushing bright red looking annoyed and frustrated "I thought you two where studying?" My dad asks "We took a break" I shrug winking at Thomas and he blushed a little more "Shouldn't you be getting home Thomas? It's getting late" my mother smiles "Ohhh uh yeah" he blushed so we got up sorting his stuff back into his backpack and I smiled going with him out to his car "so uhhhh" he blushed unsure what to really say to me given everything that's happened tonight "So? Your place tomorrow night? For studying" I smirk running my hand down his chest and into his jeans "Yeah, Tomorrow night" he smirked grabbing my waist and slipping his hand under my panties to rub on my clit I checked the windows and knowone was looking so I pulled him close kissing him deeply stroking his still rock hard cock and he rubbed on my clit faster then ever it didn't take me long to finish clamping my legs together as I came moaning into his mouth the whole time not even a couple seconds later he finished too grunting and groaning intoy Mouth as his hips bucked towards my hand blowing his load into his pants "dad's gonna be so mad at me" he laughs "Why?" I giggled "We just came leaned against my dad's car he's gonna fucking kill me he finds out" he laughs "I still don't understand why you don't have your own car yet" I laugh "you must be able to afford one" I smile "Darling... It's not the car I can't afford it's insuraning one, seriously a guy my age first time officialy driving a car that isn't my dad's, living in London and employed as an actor. It's in like six digits" he sighed "Okay, well next time you borrow your dad's car how about we take it up the the park and... Study again" I smirk "Next week darling" he smiles "see you tomorrow" he smiles "Tomorrow Tommy" I laugh giving him a kiss which he happily returned before heading off home, I bidded my parents goodnight taking my books upstairs as I did I noticed my room had a draw open... My underwear draw? Making me laugh "so that's what he was up to" I laugh shutting the draw and going to the bathroom a minute as I did I noticed before turning on the tab to brush my teeth there was... A sticky white junk on my sink so I got m phone taking a picture and sending it to Thomas

Y/n 😝 What is this?

Thomas 😒 Ohh...that. Well I uhhhh you can guess what happened darling 😘

Y/n 😝 And what happened in my underwear draw Tommy???

Thomas 😒 Nothing 😏

Y/n 😝 Thomas tell the truth

Then a picture of my cute little blue lacy panties on his bed

Thomas 😒 You can have them back tomorrow 😘

Y/n 😝 Fine, but no more jerking off in my bathroom! You want it so badly you ask me from now on 😘😘😘😘

Thomas 😒 Yes darling 💙

[trashpandaorigins]

The Body Keeps the Score  Ch 10. Fear and Loathing in Lax Vrens

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

Chapter 10

Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken

And the violence, caused such silence, who are we mistaken?

But you see, it's not me, it's not my family

In your head, in your head, they are fighting

With their tanks, and their bombs and their bombs, and their guns

In your head, in your head they are crying

Zombie - The Cranberries

“Peter,” Gamora heard the muffled sound of shuffling through a haze. Something ached in her right arm. Or was it her left? She didn’t know; her own body was forign to her.  Throbbing, hot pulsing coming from somewhere. Gamora breathed, good no pain there. She knew all too well, how to go through the motions when waking from a wounded fog. Lie still, barely breathe. Get your thoughts as straight as can be. Test your brain  first so you can reassure yourself that even if your body is broken, you still have your mind. She moved her fingers next, something soft. A couch or a bed? She shuffling sound was closer now, she registered it like voices underwater. Gamora held her breath in anticipation as she always did when waking up to discover new types of pain. No matter how many enhancements or procedures, her body continued to surprise her with a diversity of agonies. What would this one be? She tried to move her toes, at least what she hoped was her toes. Everything was heavy, cumbersome, lethargic.

“Hey! Don’t move!” Someone snapped.

“Peter?” She willed her eyes to focus but the raspy voice answered before her sight cleared.

“Tsch, sorry to disappoint.”

R...Rocket? The thought of him elicited hot irritation.

“Wh ...where's...P...Peter?”

“He’s with Groo--he’s with the plant,” Rocket twitched his tail dismissively and began examining her burning arm. Gamora grit her teeth, pushing herself upward on the pillows. Have to get up…. she had to push herself. Had to show the nebulous “them” that she was still alert and ready to fight before Nebula came back...or Proxima, or any of them came to test her again.

“Don’t!” Rocket jumped up on the couch beside her, small paws reaching to grab her shoulders and push her back down. He halted with a lurch, stopping himself before the little claws could touch her. He paused, looking at her with…. trepidation? Fear? His arms fell lamely to his sides. “Just don’t move! Do you know how long it took to check your mods? Don’t screw it up.” His beatty red eyes examined her arm again. “How do you feel?”

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, closing her eyes. The lights, even dim-were harsh.

“I didn't ask how you'd be. I asked how you feel.”

Despite the pain, Gamora found herself grinning, cracking one eye open.

“Careful, someone might actually think you care.”

“Yeah well I don’t,” he barked harshly, then sighed, “it’s...its G...Groot. He don’t like it when his friends get hurt. Especially when those friends have been hurt enough already.”

Gamora pulled her feverish mind back to the present, his words glossing through her muddled consciousness and getting stuck there with the rest of her jumbled thoughts. She opened her mouth again, tasting flaky cotton dryness. Rocket finished examining the bandage on her arm with a satisfied click of his tongue.

“I’ll get Quill,” he leapt off the couch. “And quit movin’! You’ll make it worse,” he shouted without turning back. She watched him exit the common area, head the small thump of his feet down the hall until at last it faded away.

She savored the momentary silence, closing her eyes against the reality of waking. Her cybernetics flared with irritation, the wires under her skin in her damaged arm still thrummed with electricity. Nebula’s face dominated her mind each time she attempted to rest. She’s not here...Thanos...he’s not here...breathe. You’re on the Benatar. She bawled her hand into a fist against the excruciating stinging in her arm.

“Damn you Nebula,” she’d been so close. So careful.

“You...you let him do this to me!” Her sister’s howl echoed in her mind. Gamora glanced at the wound Rocket had healed, crude stitches.  She pressed her fingers tenderly to the swollen seam of her flesh, gritting her teeth against the sharp pain.

“Knock, knock,”

“Peter!” She swallowed her enthusiasm too late, heat rising in her cheeks. If he noticed her blush, he did not make a show of it. Instead sticking his hands in his pockets and shuffling forward like a nervous child.

“I’d ask you how you’re feeling but you look pretty miserable.” That provoked a small grin, that was the thing about Peter. She didn’t have to hide anything from him, he just knew. She shifted her weight allowing for him to sit down on the side of the bed.

“Any clue where she’d go next? Peter shrugged, shaking his head.

“Didn’t see. I was too busy trying to find you.”

Gamora nodded, she couldn’t fault him for that. She probably made for Sineer, it’s the closest habitable planet that will have a fuel station. If we push it now we can make it before…

Something warm and soft touched against the top of her hand. She went rigid, expecting a scratch or a yank or the plunge of a cold needle but stopped. Peter’s finger gently stroked over her knuckles.

“We already set coordinates for Sineer, all you gotta do is sit back and try to heal up.” Something warm rose in her belly, making it flutter. He smiled, hands remarkably soft for someone who dual wielded pistols.

“Thank you Peter, you’re always so….good.”She spoke the words before she could think them through. But it was true, as silly as it was. His smile widened and she held her breath as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. A small innocent peck. He squeezed her hand for a moment, then patted it.

“Get some rest Gams. I’ll let you know when we get close.”

---

She persuaded Peter to let her off the couch the next day, though her arm stung and cybernetics snapped periodically- Gamora moved with grace through the ship. Glad to be able to walk around again. Back to some semblance of normalcy.  Even Drax offered her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“I am glad you were not too badly injured.”

“Thanks Drax,” she murmured, somewhat awkwardly at her data pad. There’s no guarantee she’s on Sineer, she flipped through the nearby planets. Evah, Resmoa, Halfworld….

Crash!

“I’m….Groooot!!”

“Fuck! Groot!”  

Something’s wrong Rocket’s gotten mad at Groot before but ...something in the tenor of that snarl rose goosebumps on his flesh. Gamora looked up, meeting Drax’s equally concerned face. She flew down the hall and halted, heart dropping.

Groot stood a few paces from Rocket, large eyes filled with sap, staring in abject terror. He clutched his left side, small hand covering something Gamora could not see.

“Small angry friend!” Drax boomed, scooping a shaking Groot up into his hold, “what happ…” he faltered, eyes scanning the floor to Rocket’s data pad, only slightly cracked and blinking with at least five missed messages. Gamora’s breath caught. It wasn’t the data pad, it was the shard of bark lying beside it.

Is that….? She glared over at Rocket who’s trembling paws held the answer. Sharp claws outward, whiskers twitching on edge she knew.

“You hurt him,” Drax exclaimed, more shocked than angry, for once. Groot sniffed, burrowing his head into the crook of the large man’s neck.

“Guys what’s going….” Peter took in the scene with wide eyes, surveying the rest of them. Gamora only watched Rocket’s chest rise and fall, mouth agape, eyes wide though he offered no explanation.

“I didn’t….” he breathed, trembling “I wou….I wouldn’t….” He caught himself, then snorted flicked his paw in what was supposed to be a show of dismissiveness.  A pretty lame one, Gamora observed. “I...I  didn’t hurt him! Kid was meddling in shit he shouldn’t be!”

“He’s a child!” Drax thundered with righteous fury. Gamora dove between them, gasping at the fiery sparks that scourged trough her cybernetics. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

“Drax!” She held him at arm's length, ready in an instant to attack if need be.

“Easy, easy!” Peter approached Rocket with the caution one would approach well,...a cornered animal . “I’m sure you didn’t mean it, right? Groot’s okay, right buddy? Your good! We’ll get you some bandages and...and how about a nice mezalian cookie?” The little flora perked his head up at the sound of that, lowering his arm to expose a small strip of shredded bark. Drax nodded at the human’s words.

“Come smaller Groot, we will get you some cookies and patch you up. Rocket will not harm you again. We have clearly overestimated his parental abilities.”

Peter scowled at Rocket,

“Man you gotta watch yourself!”

“Peter, it’s fine. I’ll handle it,” Gamora leveled him with a look. Thankfully he nodded, turning once more to the destroyer and Groot.

“What happened,” Gamora rounded on the raccoonoid as Drax and Peter made a hasty departure, cooing and coddling the infant flora.

“Fuck off,” the raccoonoid snapped, waving her away. He looked at the shard of bark on the floor, then to his own claws for but a second, before spitting on said floor and turning on his heel, scurrying into the bowels of the ship.

“How is he?”

“He’ll be okay I think,” Peter inspected Groot’s damaged side. Gamora knelt beside him, staring in wonder at the fresh green shoots already beginning to heal over the tear. Groot himself seemed ambivalent at worse, munching on the cookies.

“I got good news for you too,” Peter prompted. “Nebula escaped in one of our pods so we can track it easily. She just landed.”  Her skin pricked with agitation, the hair on her neck rising. “Lax Vrens.”

---

She would go for Lax Vrens, Gamora shook her head irritably as she, Quill and Rocket stepped off the ramp and onto the wet squishing surface of the tiny planet. Less a planet, not even on the regular scanners, more of an ever so habitable asteroid. An outpost, home to people looking for a place to hide.

“This place is a dump,” Rocket whined.

“You could’ve stayed back with Groot,” Gamora barked. Though given the recent outburst…. The raccoonoid’s stunt hung like a foul odor in the air. He muttered several choice words and flicked his tail in irritation. “I can see you,” Gamora couldn’t help but feel lighter as Peter sauntered over beside her, his headphones crooked on his head, leaving one ear open.

“Nothing gets past you!” He teased, shoulder lightly bumping next to her.

“Can you focus? I don’t want a repeat of last time,” she admonished in what she hoped was not too harsh. It was good to have some levity among her constant search. Among the continuous scanning of any blue and metal alien. She tightened her grip around her blade for ease.

“Finding her will be easy, she’s got our escape pod,” he snapped his fingers to some foreign beat as they walked through the wide thoroughfare of Lax Vrens.

“Not if she abandoned it,” Rocket quipped a few paces ahead of them. “I’m gettin’ new straps and scopes. Ping me if you need anything.” Gamora opened her mouth to argue but Peter’s hand against her arm stopped her.

“It’s not worth it.”

She nodded, allowing it to role off her shoulders. To her right something moved between the low squat buildings. Gamora turned on a dime ready to spring, breath held. Body coiled, a spring ready to go. She halted, heart hammering, Just a Tubarian citizen. Muscles tensed but she moved along, biting her tongue while she walked beside Peter who so casually danced around in the street without a second thought. She laughed, his carelessness and joviality most welcome. There was an innocence there, a strange one, Peter was in fact until most recently a wanted criminal by the Nova Corps but ...still he retained a childish glee she never had; but wanted-no matter how hard she kept the desire at bay.

“What are you listening to n…..?”

Something moved in the shadows adjacent to them. Gamora’s eyes trained on the shift in the darkness. Two figures, one male one female. Kree possibly? Or Skrull? She glanced back at Peter, already several lengths ahead, dancing around in his own little world.

Could be a trap…. her back pinched in tension, the metal in her spine cramping. Gamora zoned in on the two figures, now having backed themselves into an alley. They’re armed, she could see the outline of a pistol against the females hip and a long prong strapped to her back. Wasting no time she whipped out her sword, eyes trained on each target, moving her pace from walking to a brisk pursuit.  With practiced notion she slammed the female into the side of the wooden building, blunt end of the blade against her neck. With her other hand she grabbed the wrist before the female alien could reach for her gun and snatched the weapon away from her belt, aiming it at the male. Gamora frowned making out a stitched insignia on the female aliens cloak, just on the shoulder. A perfect circle, one side of stitched in with red thread the other half empty black, Two hands cupped the circle in with what looked to be humanoid fingers. Some sort of military? Terran? No... Ebony Maw spared no expense in “educating” her and her siblings about the various armies, groups, secret societies throughout the galaxy. This was not one of them. Not that she cared to remember the finer points of those lessons.

“Who are you?” Gamora ordered, examining them. Purplish skin gave way to a black mask, covering their nose and mouth. Though bipedal they weren’t humanoids. She could tell by the fin coming from the male’s back.

“There’s no need for violence Gamora,” the female alien intoned, chiding.

“How do you know my name?”  Of course they know my name.

“We have no intention of harming you,” the male reassured, two sets of arms still held in surrender despite the gun still strapped to his side.

“We were hoping you could help us.” Gamora scrutinized them, sparring a look out to the street. Aliens passed with no inkling of any disturbance. She took a deep breath, lowering the sword, and the gun only just. She watched the male alien take a sigh of relief.

“What makes you think I would help you?”

The female grinned, revealing pointed fangs, quickly tapping something strapped to her wrist.

“Have you seen this creature?”

The male gestured to the rough hologram image attempting to materialize from the computer on the female’s wrist. The blue hologram fuzzed, glitched, then finally formed into a shape.

Is that…?

His face was smaller, gaunt, with patches of hairlessness and dull fur. A metal collar clamped around his neck, tight enough that inflamed pink tissue bubbled up and under the thing, dried blood crusting around the edges.

“Subject 89P13 was with you after the battle of Xandar,” the female went on, smirking at the look of the shock evidence on the assassin woman’s face.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Gamora recovered, quick as she could. The alien female shrugged, flipping off the hologram.

“That’s a pity, we were going to help it.”

Help? Rocket’s lip quivering as he held back tears, the crude blots in his bones she had seen only in passing when he signed to wear anything with a cut below the collar bone. She shivered despite herself. Cold metal, merciless hands picking at your body, tugging and pulling and tearing. Taking things out, putting things in. “I didn’t ask to be torn apart and put back together all over and over….”

“I’m no bounty hunter,” she countered; “I don’t know any Subject 89P13.” Gamora backed away, keeping the gun and sword aimed, glancing once more at the unassuming streets.

“It’s unstable,” the female stated simply, casually examining something under her fingernails. “It wasn’t complete you know.”  Gamora tightened her grip around the weapons. “Has it destroyed anything lately? Taking things apart, reconfiguring weapons and engine systems on your ship?”  

Peter’s pilots, Drax’s knives “upgraded” lying on the floor amid an assembly of other bombs. Stray wires and ruined parts of the ship strewn about as Rocket worked madly on some project he’d assigned himself.

“Has it gotten angry? Hurt you or your crew?” The male asked, stepping closer. 

Groot….

Gamora adjusted her position, squaring against both of them, watching for any sense of movement.

“It will only continue,” the female patronizing an ignorant child. “89P13 was built for destruction. It was programmed to cause chaos.”

They’re wrong! Gamora reasoned. Rocket wasn’t a threat He may be impulsive, manic even, and aggressive but he’s not...illogical or can’t be reasoned with. And yet...the way he is constantly taking the ship apart, messing with our things...always ready to fight...always testing his latest weapons without any care for our safety ...for Groot’s safety. Her gut churned with each incident in the past week alone. He bit Peter...and nearly bit Drax the day before that. But Groot, she reassured herself. He’d never hurt Groot .. .except he had hurt Groot and showed little remorse about it.

“It’s only a matter of time,” the alien continued. “It is a danger to itself and anyone it comes in contact with.”

“ He isn’t a danger,” Gamora shouted before she could help it. Both of them smiled,

“So you do know it.”

Gamora curled her finger around the trigger.

“It will only get worse. It cannot resist it’s conditioning. We went through great pains to ensure that.”

I’m sure you did, images of the hologram surfaced in her mind. The cruel scalpels and electric shocks. If his “conditioning” was anything like her own, she sincerely hoped it wasn’t.

“Why do you think we created 89P13 in one of the most secure laboratories in the galaxy on one of the most remote planets in the keystone quadrant.”

Halfworld…. Gamora’s eyes flicked to the insignia on their black uniforms. The female alien smiled once more, eerily wide.

“89P13 was never meant to survive outside the lab. It’s creator made it what it is. It was a dumb, mute, senseless animal when it came to us.”

When you captured him, stole him away from his natural parents...siblings if he had them...taken away...he didn’t come to those scientists any more than I came to Thanos.

Gamora’s sword shook ever so subtly.

“It was a sack of skin and bone. 89P13 is a ticking time bomb. You best return it to use before it explodes.”

“You are wrong,” Gamora whispered dangerously. She continued to back away, making towards the main street again.

“It is suffering Gamora.” She halted despite herself. The male alien reasoned lowly, “it is in far greater pain outside of the lab then inside of it. We know that must be hard to believe, but it is true and it will continue to suffer.”

The female alien lurched closer,

“You know the horror of it yourself, to be a half formed thing. Would you wish that fate on the animal you profess is your companion? Your friend?”

Gamora opened her mouth to retort, stopping as something was pressed into her hand.

“If you see 89P13, press this button.” She stared at the small round device, a single button in the centre. “That will subdue it.”

“We want  89P13 to thrive and be the most that it can be. That’s what you want too isn’t it? The female alien admitted with sickly sweetness.

Gamora stepped backward,  into the street again keeping their weapons which-oddly enough they made no move to take.

“You don’t know what I want,” she hissed, turning and dashing back down the streets of Lax Vrens to find Peter, the device heavy in her hand.

[toothpaste-dragon]

After countless hours of writing and editing, I’m excited to finally share this!!

Far From Home is the title of a novel I'd like to write someday, but it's currently nothing more than a work in progress. “Nightmare,” the written piece under the cut, is an original post-story excerpt that explores the growing familial relationship between Baz and Toko, the story’s main characters. 

I worked hard to create something memorable and poured my heart into these characters, so I hope you enjoy it! Expect some lighthearted moments, angst, and fluff.

Genre: Science Fiction

Words: 5,731

For space travelers, there was no such thing as night and day. Overhead lights gave the illusion of daytime and shadowy corridors the illusion of night, but the dark, vast expanse of space provided no indication of passing time. In accordance with intergalactic vehicle regulations, most spaceships had a built-in light fluctuation system designed to protect passengers from various sleep disorders. The software itself was very reliable, with a mere handful of glitches reported annually. The only downside was that this day-night cycle exclusively conformed to the circadian rhythm of a single individual. To take advantage of this system, it was common knowledge that the passenger with the longest natural cycle should set the standard for the rest of the ship.

Baz found it surprisingly easy to adjust to a 28-hour cycle despite needing only two hours of sleep each night. Truthfully, this artificial nighttime had become something Baz genuinely looked forward to. Free of his two overly-chatty passengers, he could enjoy some alone time and appreciate the unfamiliar stillness of the ship, save for the constant hum beneath his clawed feet. He would sit in silence for hours filling out delivery confirmation forms, a requirement of his job as an intergalactic merchant. Once finished, Baz would leave the papers scattered on the dining table (Gerdie would surely clean them up in the morning) and shuffle to his sleeping quarters without a sound. Propping himself up against his bedframe, he would lazily drape blankets over his lower half before retrieving a book from the nightstand and indulging in one of his favorite pastimes. Reading.

Tonight was no different. With all the paperwork done, Baz’s snout was burrowed deep in The Battle for Kelekekelelu, a historical recount of a devastating war between the citizens and power-hungry leaders of the Zeta Quadrant. Survivors’ personal accounts filled the pages with gruesome scenarios described in full detail, such that the entire work was deemed unsuitable for public sale by government-regulated distribution services. Baz liked the book. His whole existence had been an uphill battle, so he found solace in stories of heartache and devastation, and it was easy for him to sympathize with the discouraged and oppressed. To know he was not the only being in the universe that had suffered great losses throughout their lifetime – it was comforting, in a weird sort of way. But it was also a sobering reminder that reality wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Life was hard, people were cruel, pain was real. And there were no happy endings.

Baz was about to turn the page when a distant thump caught his attention. A faint pattering of feet followed soon after, gradually getting louder as the spaceship’s smallest passenger approached the captain’s open doorway. Baz sighed. No more alone time.

The pattering slowed to a stop in the narrow hallway, and all was quiet. When nobody appeared, Baz wondered if his visitor had reconsidered. Three soft knocks told him otherwise.

“Baz?” The cracked voice of a young girl broke the silence.

“What is it, Toko?” Baz asked, sounding a bit more accusatory than intended.

Baz looked up just in time to see a purple alien emerge from her hiding place behind the doorframe. Eyes downcast, the girl’s tear-stained cheeks glistened in the dim light. She was quivering uncontrollably and kept fiddling with the hem of her nightgown, releasing her grip only to wipe away fresh tears. The girl’s thin tail was wrapped tightly around her left leg, a telltale sign that she was frightened. Baz’s eyebrows shot up.

“Whoa, uh…are you okay?” Baz lowered the book and scratched his right horn uncomfortably, unsure how to approach such a delicate situation. “What’s wrong, kid?”

“I had a nightmare,” Toko sniffled, finally making eye contact. Somewhat guiltily, Baz tried to remember if Toko had described ‘nightmares’ in the past, but with no success. Translation devices could only do so much to bridge the gap between their languages. His furrowed brow prompted the girl to elaborate.

“On my home planet, nightmares are the darkest of dreams. They’re not very nice.” Her grip tightened on the nightgown. “This one wasn’t very nice…”

She lowered her gaze and stared blankly at her feet. A teardrop fell from her cheek, hitting the metal floor with a meager plop.

Baz hummed a reply and nodded thoughtfully. A few seconds passed. He glanced around his sleeping quarters and fidgeted with the book that looked incredibly tiny in his enormous hands. Well, this was awkward. He felt bad for the kid, but he didn’t know what to do. What he should do. Luckily, Toko spoke before he could say anything stupid.

“I was just wondering if, um…” Toko started, but she hesitated. Glancing up hopefully, she practically whispered, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

It was this question that filled Baz with dread.

Toko knew the rules. She wasn’t allowed to sleep next to Baz for a number of reasons, the most prominent being their cultural differences. Members of Toko’s race, as Baz had learned, found comfort in proximity and platonic physical touch. It was normal for friends, relatives, and strangers of all kinds to give handshakes, hugs, and strange displays of affection called ‘kisses.’ To them, physical touch represented togetherness and familiarity. This closeness strengthened their fondness for one another.

Members of Baz’s race, on the other hand, valued their personal space and viewed physical touch as a deliberate act of aggression. Individuals kept to themselves, avoiding strangers and sometimes even relatives, though this practice was more frequent among males than females. A violation of personal space was never an accident; in such cases, males would battle for dominance and bloodshed was sure to follow. Any sign of vulnerability was a death sentence.

While Baz had essentially outgrown his own race’s hostile tendencies over the years, remnants remained. Togetherness still felt wrong. Closeness still made him uncomfortable. So when he looked into Toko’s swollen eyes and desperately wanted to make the bad memories fade away, he didn’t immediately open the invitation. But she was just a kid. And he was all she had. So maybe, for once…he could try.

Baz sighed and lifted the covers from the vacant side of the king-size mattress, turning to Toko with a look that wasn’t quite as menacing as usual. Even with tear-dampened cheeks, the girl’s face lit up immediately.

Bare feet padded across the floor to the large bed that easily dwarfed the alien child. Determined, she sprang up and clung to the fitted sheet in an attempt to scale the mattress, searching for a foothold in the process, but instead lost her grip and fell to the ground. She tried again, this time grasping for the bedsheet, and realized too late that the bedsheet had decided to come tumbling down with her.

Watching all of this occur, Baz rolled his eyes and dog-eared a page in his book, placing it on the nightstand to his right. He shifted his position on the bed and leaned over the edge of the mattress, offering a hand to the inexperienced mountaineer. She gladly took his hand and murmured a quiet “Thank you.”

Baz effortlessly hoisted Toko onto the bed, his massive hand engulfing her tiny paw, and gingerly set her down beside him. Once she was settled, he recovered the fallen bedsheet and spread it out across the mattress, using a large portion to cover his little guest. She promptly wrapped herself in the blanket until only her head was visible.

Baz was quick to distance himself from the girl, returning to his pillow and retrieving his book from the nightstand. To his relief, Toko stayed on the opposite side of the bed and snuggled deeper into her own pillow, silently welcoming sleep. He wondered if she understood the significance of her actions across their cultures. Either way, Baz was grateful she hadn’t moved any closer.

Ten soundless minutes passed. It was strange, sharing a peaceful moment with Toko. This will probably be the last, he mused. It wasn’t often she sat still for more than a short while.

Baz endured the girl’s endless bouts of energy and annoyingly unrealistic optimism every day. To tell the truth, it was extremely tiring. He might even compare it to a second job. But when she asked him to play pretend or read one of her favorite books or draw silly pictures, he complied (to a certain degree, of course). She still had that childlike wonder, oohing and ahhing at every new discovery. Something so pure – it was valuable in such a dark world. Baz grinned, remembering her week-long fascination with the garbage disposal.

The ship’s atmosphere had changed significantly since her arrival six months ago. Yes, he tolerated her, but lately Baz found himself smiling more often. Laughing, even. As frequently as he denied it, he cared deeply for the child. She was like family now.

He stole a glance at his visitor. Toko lay motionless, her back to him. She was miniscule amidst the colossal mattress. Baz exhaled a contented sigh.

She was a good kid.

Before he could return to his book, however, something caught his attention. Years of working as a smuggler had trained his eyes and ears to perceive the slightest of details, but even the most oblivious of onlookers would find it hard to ignore the sudden, sharp breaths coming from the tiny lump beneath his bedsheets.

Toko began to twitch, and the twitching quickly turned to trembling. The nightmare was still nipping at her heels.

Baz’s first instinct was to wake her, but he hesitated. Part of him really didn’t want to deal with a crying child twice in one night. Besides, comforting others wasn’t his area of expertise. With his harsh words and suck-it-up attitude, he’d probably do more harm than good.

In his mind, he was just there to listen and offer questionable advice. Thankfully, Toko was very open about her feelings, so he rarely had to initiate a conversation. It saved him a lot of unnecessary stress. Only this time, she was asleep. If something was to be done, he’d have to do it himself.

Baz returned his book to the nightstand and called Toko’s name softly. To his dismay, she didn’t respond and the trembling worsened. Steeling himself, he reached over and lightly tapped her on the shoulder, repeating her name. Toko woke with a gasp and whirled around reflexively, further entangling herself in blankets. She struggled desperately against the fabric.

“No!” she yelped. The nightmare had yet to release its hold, and she looked up at Baz with wet eyes. Her chest was heaving.

“It’s okay,” Baz assured, “it’s okay. It’s just me.” He extended a meaty hand, causing her to flinch, and freed the girl from her constricting cocoon of blankets.

She blinked. Toko seemed to realize she was back in Baz’s sleeping quarters. Breathing heavily, she choked back a sob and wiped her eyes, salty tears sticking to her fur.

“Baz, they…they locked me away again,” she sniveled. “I was all alone and I was so scared and they hurt me. And I kept calling your name, but–”

“It was just a dream,” Baz quickly interjected. He didn’t like where this was going. “It wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

They both knew the dream wasn’t real. But the memory wedged within the dream was very real.

Despite his attempt to console her, Toko started crying uncontrollably. She hiccupped after every few breaths, sniffling like a sick bloodhound. As much as he hated seeing her like this, Baz knew it was best to let her finish. Calming her would be easier if she could form coherent sentences.

Feeling quite foolish, Baz tentatively enveloped one of her long, rabbit-like ears in a giant hand, gently rubbing his fingers across the surface. To him, the gesture was unusual, but it always made her feel better. ‘Like mom used to do,’ she’d told him. Compared to his tough, leathery skin, her fur was soft and delicate.

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed to a steady pace. She rubbed her eyes, getting rid of any remaining tears, and leaned into Baz’s touch.

“I didn’t like that dream.”

Baz frowned. “I don’t blame you.”

Toko hugged herself tightly, little fingers tugging at the patterned fabric of her nightgown. She looked completely exhausted, but it seemed she was too scared to close her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the open doorway, unblinking, as if something were to walk through at any moment. The bedsheet on her lap was covered in dried stains from tears and mucus.

Lovely. Baz made a mental note to wash the snot out of his blankets in the morning.

Studying Toko carefully, his face scrunched up in displeasure. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. Big surprise, he grumbled. This feeling of helplessness was really getting to him. He was strong, cunning, independent – he was the captain of a spaceship for crying out loud. Clearly, Baz was capable of doing things that required a lot of skill. It was the girl that should be clueless, not him. And yet, whenever he tried to console her, he never got it right.

What was he doing wrong? Was there a secret technique or mathematical equation for this kind of thing? His train of thought derailed, and suddenly Baz had a revelation. If he didn’t know how to help Toko, maybe he could just ask. Was it really that easy?

He had a feeling he was going to regret this.

“Look kid,” he ventured, releasing her ear from his grip. “You’ve had a pretty rough night, and you need rest. Is there…anything I can do to help you sleep?”

Toko wore something that resembled a puzzled expression. Having never been asked such a question by her parental guardian, she sat in silent thought, relaxing a little. Baz started to get anxious when she didn’t respond immediately, nervous about the complexity of her request. Finally, she spoke.

“Can you tell me a story?”

Baz internally groaned.

Ever since Toko had joined the crew, it was all sugar-coated fairytales and happy endings. That’s exactly what any normal person would expect from a seven-year-old, for the record, but Baz seriously considered ejecting her storybooks into space on more than one occasion. Fairytales were the least realistic depictions of life, and with each ‘happily ever after’ he was descending further into madness. But it’s what she wanted to hear, and the stories made her smile. So he read them again and again.

“Alright,” Baz rumbled wearily. “Go pick one out from your bookshelf. There’s a flashlight in the bottom drawer of my nightstand.”

Toko shook her head. “No, no. I want you to tell me a new story. One that belongs to you.”

This caught the captain off-guard. A story that belonged to him? Like what, a memory? Some of Baz’s favorite memories came from his time in prison, but those stories weren’t appropriate for children. In fact, most of his memories weren’t appropriate for children, even the good ones. So maybe that’s not what she meant. Maybe she was just tired of reading the same five stories and wanted to shake things up.

The only problem was that Baz had never created his own story. Although, after reading Toko’s storybooks, he’d noticed patterns in the plot and subject matter. Little girls liked princesses and magic and true love, right? Creating a story couldn’t be that hard. Something short and sweet was guaranteed to satisfy her. If not, he’d have to devise a backup plan. His imagination wasn’t big enough for two stories, let alone one.

“Sure, kid. Though…I can’t promise it’ll be any good.” Baz sighed. The things he did for this girl.

“Once upon a time, there was a–”

“What does that mean?”

Expecting nothing less from Toko, Baz turned to the alien who had so rudely interrupted him. “What does what mean? ‘Once upon a time’?”

Toko nodded her head. “Is that another one of your complicated space thingys? I just don’t understand…how does someone get on top of time? And why only once?”

Momentary confusion turned to realization, and Baz let out a light chuckle. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Toko’s vocabulary was very different from his own. Well-known sayings from his planet were often completely foreign to her. The girl had probably never heard the phrase in her entire life.

Adjusting his slouched position against the bedframe, Baz explained, “It’s just a fancy way of saying ‘a long time ago.’ Where I’m from, we use it to describe something that happened in the past.”

“Oh.” Toko knit her brow. She seemed to be processing the correlation between his explanation and the phrase. Like most phrases, it didn’t translate well in her language. Eventually, she lost interest and decided to move on.

“Can you please start over? The story, I mean,” she smiled sheepishly.

Baz hummed in reply and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. “Once upon a time, there was a princess. This princess lived in a big castle and, uh…ruled over a peaceful kingdom with her mother and father. They all loved each other very much, and nothing bad ever happened to them. And the, um, princess was happy.”

Toko’s eyes brightened in anticipation. Not a bad start.

“Behind the castle was a garden filled with flowers. The princess loved to walk through the garden and listen to the songs of the morning birds. The birds – no, the princess…uh…”

Okay. Maybe creating a story was harder than he thought. Where was he going with this?

Flowers. Singing birds. Magic. All recurring themes in Toko’s storybooks.

“One day, while sitting in the garden, the princess was greeted by…a raven. Yeah, a raven. The bird carried a pink flower in its beak and offered it to the princess, saying it was a…” What was it called? “…an ‘enchanted’ flower. According to the raven, each of the flower’s petals granted a wish when plucked. Warning the princess to keep close watch over the flower, the raven flew away.”

Yes, he stole the idea for wish-granting petals from an old folktale, but he wasn’t about to tell Toko. Baz made up in borrowed material what he lacked in creativity.

He crossed ‘princess’ and ‘magic’ off his imaginary checklist. All that was left was true love.

“A few days later, a handsome prince arrived at the castle. The king and queen welcomed the prince to their home and introduced their daughter. It was,” Baz drawled, “love at first sight. Or something like that.

“The prince immediately got down on one knee and asked the princess to marry him. She agreed, and they got married. And they both lived happily ever after. The end.”

Toko’s facial expression was a combination of bewilderment and disappointment.

“That story wasn’t very good.”

“Gee, thanks for your brutal honesty,” Baz retorted.

“I mean, you mentioned the magic flower once and never brought it up again.”

Crap. It was stupid to think she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Alright, fine. You got me there. But I already told you I’m not the best storyteller–”

“And how could the prince fall in love with the princess just by looking at her–”

“IT WAS BAD, I GET IT.”

Baz regretted snapping at Toko the moment the words left his mouth. She didn’t deserve such treatment, especially over something so trivial. But he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t made to be gentle, or even-tempered, or any of the things she needed him to be.

Yet there she was, giggling like it was all just a big joke.

When people met Baz for the first time, it was common for them to turn tail and run. Those who ignored this initial impulse left the conversation very, very sweaty. Strangers, colleagues, and even friends described him as frightening. Of all the people he’d met over the course of his lifetime, Toko was one of the few to think he was funny.

Baz collected himself and let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, kid. I’m just not cut out for this storytelling stuff.”

The statement, while accurate, served as a poor substitute for the apology he could never properly communicate. I’m just not cut out for this ‘father’ stuff.

The snickering stopped and a small hand pat his arm encouragingly. He glanced up at Toko. “It’s okay,” she smiled. “You don’t have to be.”

Something welled up in Baz’s chest. It was an odd feeling, one that was buried beneath the rubble of years and years of unrealistic expectations. Whether her response had been directed at his hidden insecurity or not, reality hit like a brick to the head. He didn’t need to be a ‘typical parent’ to be a good parent. He’d proven this dozens of times when she laughed at his aggravated outbursts during board games or happily chewed his shameful attempts at traditional Thruxscan dishes. Toko accepted his quirky, rough-around-the-edges love without hesitation and reciprocated these familial feelings in her own way.

He needed to start believing his love for Toko was valuable, albeit unconventional, and that she expected nothing more than what he could give.

“Maybe,” the girl proposed, unaware of Baz’s self-reflection, “we could create a story together.”

Baz blinked in surprise. “Whaddya mean?”

“We take turns telling different parts of a story until we reach the end. It’s sort of like a game! I used to do it with my siblings all the time.”

It wasn’t a bad suggestion. At least Toko might guide the plot in a logical direction, and it could help shift her focus away from the nightmare. Besides, it seemed his participation would be limited, which was preferable.

Without waiting for his approval, she scooted closer to Baz and eagerly bounced up and down. “I’ll start!”

The captain’s brow rose in amusement. Let’s see where this goes.

“Once upon a time,” Toko began, emphasizing her use of the newly-learned phrase, “there was a princess. She lived in a big castle at the center of a beautiful kingdom. The castle was big because she had a big family! She had a mom, a dad, and lots n’ lots of brothers and sisters. The princess never wanted jewels or shiny things because she loved her family more than anything in the world.

“One night, while the princess was asleep, an evil hogthropple snuck into the castle and took her family away. When the princess woke up and realized what happened, she was sad. She felt very alone in the big castle. So she left the kingdom to track down the hogthropple and rescue her family.”

Toko sat there, looking up at Baz expectantly. “Now it’s your turn,” she prompted.

He didn’t even know where to begin.

“Mind telling me who this ‘hogthropple’ is, first?”

“It’s a scary monster,” Toko explained, raising her hands above her head to describe its large size and frightening appearance. “It has six legs and pointy teeth and a long, spikey tail. And if you touch the spikes, you turn to stone. That’s why hogthropples horde stone figures in their caves.”

If Baz had to guess, the hogthropple was a make-believe monster created to discourage children from disobeying their parents. Even across galaxies, parental figures always used some form of fictional fear tactic to control their kids. Though, the more he thought about it, Toko’s race wasn’t one to establish good behavior by eliciting negative emotions. For all he knew, the creature was real. There was some wacky stuff out in space.

“I see.” He scratched his chin, considering how to extend her tale. In Toko’s storybooks, princesses rarely accomplished anything without the help of a knight in shining armor. Maybe this story required a knight, too.

“The princess had never travelled beyond the kingdom’s borders, so she needed help if she was going to find the hogthropple and save her family. At the advice of an old friend, she followed a winding path through a dark forest in search of the brave Sir Lancelot, a valiant knight. She walked, and walked, and walked for what felt like ages until she stumbled upon…she stumbled upon a…um…”

Toko noticed Baz was having trouble and swiftly interjected. “She stumbled upon a big, fearsome hunter and his trusty sidekick!”

Baz smirked. “That’s right. She ran into a hunter and his pal. And what did the princess say to these intriguing fellows?”

“The princess asked the hunter if he would help rescue the king and queen from the evil hogthropple. She felt powerless…she didn’t know where to find the beast and was too weak to fight it on her own. But the hunter refused,” said Toko, “because he didn’t want to risk his life to save people he’d never met. So he ignored her request.”

Well, this was taking a depressing turn. Granted, Baz also would’ve ignored the princess’ request, but this wasn’t the kind of uplifting story he had originally expected. He grabbed hold of the reins, hoping to change the story for the better.

“The princess was disheartened by the hunter’s response, but she veered off the winding path to follow him and his comrade. Surely, they couldn’t refuse her request if they knew she was the kingdom’s beloved princess.”

He nudged Toko, forfeiting ownership of the narrative.

“Instead of helping her, like his sidekick wanted, the hunter sold the princess to a group of shady bandits for a big bag of money.”

Baz wasn’t dumb. The lack of a formal education caused him to stumble at times, but he was far from stupid. There was something very familiar about this story. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Then it hit him. She was telling her story, their story, as if it were some sort of fantasy adventure. She was the princess, Gerdie was the sidekick, and he was the fearsome hunter. The hunter that had refused to help a little girl.

Baz knew this story all too well, and he wasn’t in the mood to reopen old wounds. Why was she doing this?

He supposed Toko had a reason, but in the end, he didn’t feel the need to ask. As much as he hated reliving past mistakes in the form of a fairytale, maybe she needed this. To process things. To let go.

“The bandits locked the princess in a cage,” Toko continued, “and she was scared. How could she save her family now? Luckily, the hunter and his friend helped her escape when the criminals fell asleep. It had all been a scam to bake some dough.”

Unable to help himself, Baz snorted. She had obviously meant to say ‘make some dough,’ a slang phrase used among his own people. Close enough.

Receiving a confused glance from the girl, he picked up where she left off. “The princess was furious with the hunter, but the hunter didn’t care. With the gold pieces in tow, he turned around and walked away without a second glance. Suddenly, the princess grabbed his hand and tugged on it fiercely, pointing up toward the sky. Had it not been for her warning, he would’ve been crushed beneath falling tree branches from the canopy above.”

He looked down at Toko, who had burrowed underneath the covers at some point during the story. She smiled and nodded, but said nothing. She wanted him to keep going.

“Uh…in return for saving his life, the hunter reluctantly agreed to help the princess find Sir Lancelot. At daybreak, the three heroes began their trek through the deep, dark forest.”

The little purple alien at his side didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space. For the record, Baz’s personal bubble was larger than most, and the girl was much closer than normal. Though, for what felt like the first time in years, this closeness didn’t make him feel uncomfortable.

Again, she grinned up at him. She wanted to hear more.

“Along the way, they met a handful of interesting characters. The first was a nasty group of poachers, but they were no match for the hunter’s incredible strength. The second was a lonely gnome with a love for riddles, and the hunter’s sidekick quickly lifted his spirits with a few irresistible conundrums. The third was a swarm of irritated fairies, but they were instantly calmed when the princess offered to share her lunch.”

Toko giggled softly, thoroughly enjoying Baz’s rendition of their crazy journey through outer space.

“It was in that moment,” Baz resumed, “that the hunter realized he appreciated the princess’ company. It was going to be very hard to say goodbye to his new friend.”

Baz didn’t need to be coaxed this time. He wanted to finish the story.

“Finally, the three heroes reached the home of Sir Lancelot. When nobody answered the door, they walked inside to make sure he was alright. They were disappointed to find the knight cowering in the corner, refusing to go anywhere near the hogthropple. The princess begged and pleaded, tears pricking her eyes, but the knight declined her request.

“After leaving the knight’s house, the princess sat on a stump and cried. She didn’t know what to do. It seemed no one was willing to help rescue her family. The hunter, on the other hand, felt bad for the princess and weighed his options. Was he really considering risking his life to save the king and queen? He had a decision to make.

“As if on cue, the hogthropple appeared, his large body blocking all exits. With a silky voice and a sly grin, the hogthropple addressed the hunter as if he were an old friend. Indeed, the hunter knew this creature, as it had turned his lover to stone many, many years ago. The beast proposed a trade: hand over the princess, and he would spare the hunter’s life.”

Before he knew it, Toko was resting her head on his lap, peering up at him from under heavy eyelids. Baz tensed up, very much aware of her presence.

He’d spoken too soon. Maybe this closeness made him feel a little uncomfortable. He tried to mask his unease, eye contact with Toko wavering.

“U-um…though he claimed to fear nothing, the hunter was very afraid of the monster that had turned his lover to stone. So, to the princess’ horror, the hunter agreed. The hogthropple snatched the girl up in a clawed fist and slithered away.

“Once at his cave, the hogthropple showed the princess his horde of stone figures. Some were standing in neat rows, while others were piled on top of one another. The princess instantly recognized the closest statues as her family. She couldn’t save them. She was too late.

“The hogthropple fixed his eyes on the girl, telling her that a princess would make a nice addition to his collection. Before he could turn her to stone, however, the hunter and his sidekick appeared at the mouth of the cave. With the help of his comrade, the hunter conquered the beast, saving the princess in the process.”

Toko hummed. She was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“The princess was grateful for the hunter’s help,” Baz said, “but saddened by her family’s condition. What could she do? She was all alone, and there was nobody to take care of her.

“In a moment of weakness, the hunter offered to look after the girl. He was nothing like her real parents, and he couldn’t provide the luxury that came with royalty, but he promised to protect the princess and keep her safe. The hunter’s sidekick joined in, too, increasing their number to three. Though they could never replace her true family, they would be there for her when she needed them.”

The girl in his lap shifted, raising her head slightly. “And did they live happily ever after?”

Baz’s features softened. “Yeah, kid. They did.”

The smile remained on the child’s face even as her eyelids began to droop, moisture forming in the corners of her eyes. “See? You’re a great storyteller,” Toko yawned.

Baz was anything but troubled when tears trailed down her face. Her real family was a touchy subject, and despite her happy-go-lucky personality, there were moments when she could do nothing but sob in his arms. He was relieved to know she was taking small steps to release the pent-up sorrow.

At first, he’d considered changing the end of the story for her sake, but having experienced the consequences of living in a false reality, he decided against it. He didn’t want Toko to end up like him. She needed to face the truth.

Her shoulders rose and fell, her breathing slow. While still very displeased by her perch atop his knees, he tried to focus on the fact that this little girl trusted him. Even after all the mistakes and betrayals, she was here. And she was happy.

From the edges of sleep, Toko’s eyes flickered open and she gasped, making Baz flinch. She sputtered a hasty apology and moved away from the captain, resting her head on the adjacent pillow.

Baz was surprised. He didn’t expect her to remember his strict rules about proximity, as she clearly hadn’t reached an age where she could differentiate between their cultural standards. But this gesture meant the world to him. They had both made sacrifices to find comfort in this ramshackle ship they called ‘home,’ and this small act proved that someone cared, really cared, about his wellbeing. About his preferences. About him.

Baz chuckled, gently grabbing an unsuspecting Toko by the neck of her nightgown and setting her down beside him.

“It’s okay, kid. Just…don’t tell Gerdie I’m turning soft, alright?”

The girl’s tired eyes shined in the dim light, and she smiled. Baz received smiles like this all the time, and this one was no less special.

Toko snuggled close to Baz, who draped the bedsheet over her petite form. With a huge hand, he rubbed at the base of her tiny horns as she drifted off to sleep, something her birth father used to do.

At the sound of peaceful snoring, Baz carefully plucked his book from the nightstand and opened to the dog-eared page. He sighed, the corners of his mouth curving up against his will.

Baz didn’t believe in happy endings. But just this once, they didn’t seem so farfetched.