#i only slept once between just staring at whatever i was hallucinating on the ceiling and that was last night

[temperate-rainforest]

I always forget how people back in the olde days used to just die so easily from the flu, until I get the flu myself dhhdhdhf because on one hand I know our medicine is just soo much better now a days but on the other hand I have the immune system of a dead man and once I get sick I'm like the ye olde victorian child on a death bed dhdhdhhd it's been 4 days and I just NOW can get on my phone to watch videos and text, and eat and drink water, and coherently string words together and do more than just lay in bed and moan in pain, and sweat and cough in sick delirium 😭

[liquid-reign]

Together We Bleed

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Thomas Shelby x Arabella Roslyn Asheton (OC)

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Warnings: Mentions of rough sex, mentions of drugs, hallucinations

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I again the stole the title from a song. It's a phrase from Ghost - WILDES

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A/N:- I'm not a writer. I just write when a particular scenario wouldn't leave my mind so the writing might not be very smooth or what is expected. The scenarios just have to be written, and that is why this exists.

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Word Count- 2.1k according to Microsoft Word

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She had a hundred questions in her mind. A hundred things she wanted to tell Ada but she waited. Till she came back from the kitchen, bringing them tea.

"So, what brings you here, Roslyn?"

Roslyn hesitated for a while, not being able to think how to put it forward. She was not used to this, having other women to talk to.

"Did- does Tommy come here often? Has he recently?"

"Actually he doesn't now as much as he used to."

Roslyn waited for her to continue, but she didn't.

"Have you seen him, in recent days?"

"Yes. I went to parliament with him to meet Mosley.", she shifted in her seat leaning a bit forward, "What is it?"

"If he took you to meet Mosley, then I think you already know what's wrong."

Ada decided she'd tell her, though she had promised herself that she won't tell anybody but the woman sitting in front of her was her brother's wife, not an outsider. "After we met him, he talked about someone taking his throne or something. Wanted me to make some calls"

Roslyn knew something was wrong and the worry for Thomas scared her. She wanted to tell Ada everything.

She became present in the room when Ada reached forward, laid a soft hand on her knee.

Roslyn couldn't keep sitting anymore so she stood up, her tea going cold. She suddenly craved cigarettes but refrained due to Ada carrying a baby.

She crossed the room to stand by the window for some fresh air, she felt suffocated.

"He isn't alright, Ada. There's something terribly wrong.", she took in a deep sharp breathe. Deciding to tell her. "He's consuming laudanum like one consumes water on an everyday basis. I know he hallucinates. G-", she choked on her next word, hardly able to say it. So she cleared her throat once, and tried again, "I think it's Grace"

She noticed Ada freeze and go still for a moment.

"Hardly ever sleeps, Ada. He's sinking, I can see it.", her knees wanted to give up as she felt her body going numb. Kept herself standing by leaning against the wall beside the window. "I can't let him.”

"Well, I booked him an appointment with a doctor but he won't go"

Both of them knew that Thomas Shelby wasn't one to go to doctors.

Suddenly, Roslyn picked her things up and walked towards the door.

"You can stay", Ada started, "I know how he can be"

She didn't turn too look at her sister-in-law, though she was tempted to take up the offer.

"I want to be there for him, Ada. Goodnight", and she left.

Tommy wasn't home for the rest of the night. It was a norm now but she didn't want to accept it now. She knew Tommy wasn't alright and just wanted him home. So she went to her office and phoned his offices. No one picked up. She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

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Tommy didn't come home for another two nights. Roslyn had tried to meet him at his London apartment, but no one answered the door. She had called his office and Lizzie had answered, though, telling her that he was in a meeting.

She took her clue. Knew he didn't want to be reached just yet. So she had waited for those two nights.

He did come home on the third night.

Roslyn was working in her study after putting Charlie to sleep when he walked in through the door and stood on the other side of the desk, both hands on the table, "Where did you keep it?"

She didn't look up from her work, "Keep what?"

He stood straight now, hands in the pockets of his coat, where no one could see them shivering. From rage? From the lack of sleep? From the lack of laudanum?

"Arabella?"

No. She won't let him play the first name card here.

"Threw it all away.", looking up at her husband now, sitting back in the chair.

She could see how tired he was. The features on his face gave it all away though he kept it expressionless. How much he wanted his little bottles of dope. To be with Grace? For comfort? For what? His eyes, though, were filled with a certain type of rage. She had seen this before, this rage. It showed when he didn't get the things he badly wanted.

He was clearly irritated, slowly nodded and fled the room. Roslyn knew he'd leave the house again. So she ran behind him to catch him before he reaches the main door.

"Tommy!" she yelled, "Thomas!" walking as fast as she could. Running when he was almost at the door, catching him from his arm just in time.

He freed his arm with force but didn't move towards the door, just stood there.

"Don't leave", she softly said, and moved towards him with slow calculated steps, as if one moves to calm a scared horse. His face gave away expressions that were a mix of being angry and tired. He didn't move. She reached him and hugged him lightly first. Taking a risk. Experimenting. When he didn't move away, she held him tighter. Embracing him as wholly and as tight as she could. She ran a hand through his hair, "Don't leave, Tommy. You don't need it. Okay? You don't need it.", she whispered in his ear. He was so still, she felt chills run down her spine. Buried her face in the crook of his neck, on the verge of tears, she "It's alright. It'll be alright.", she parted to take a look at his face, "Let's go to bed?", one arm around his neck, one hand on his cheek.

He finally moved. Took her by the hand, held tight with a lot of force, and took her upstairs to their shared bedroom, in a hurry that surprised her. But relieved at the fact that he wasn't leaving yet.

He shoved her into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. She almost stumbled by the force he did that, wrist starting to pain because of the strength it was held with.

Walking towards her, he let go of his coat and jacket. He wasn't wearing a cap today, it seemed. He crushed her lips with his. Hard, angry, forceful. A kiss that could leave bruises on both their lips. Like it was a war for him. His grip tight on her waist. He was using too much strength. Clearly agitated and in rage. She accepted the fact that whatever he did tonight would end up in bruises or cuts, but she decided she'd reply in less resistance. If this was how she could keep him away from consuming laudanum, then it was almost a negligible price to pay. She didn't want to be harsh with him tonight, she gave in.

His hands crushed her wherever they touched her.

The rage, the need reflected in how rough and urgent, but deep, his moves were. Paused and continued in his own accord. Depriving her of the freedom to let go again and again.

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After riding out his high he loosened his grip on her gently, kissing her jaw and cheeks, nuzzling into her neck. He held on to her for sometime, kissing her now limp shoulders. He let her fall into the bed. Tommy crashed beside her.

She just lay there. In the position that the bed caught her in. Face away from Tommy, resting on her front. The tears had stopped but she felt weak. Her body felt liquid.

He stared at the ceiling for some time before the realisation, that his wife lay there as it is, dawned on him. Hated himself for being like that to her. Why had he? So his eyes shifted to her. Thankfully, she was beginning to move.

She lay there for a few minutes, not able to move as the bruises started making their presence evident. Reluctantly, she pulled herself up, to lay on her back. Now lying on her side, facing her husband who had just had with her the most rough consensual sex of her lifetime yet and found him staring at her.

His face was blank, but at least it didn't bear the anger and hurt it had sometime ago.

Tommy's right hand reached out to brush away the remainder of the tears from her cheek. A heavy air lingered between them, which none of them dared to break.

She moved closer to him and he welcomed her onto his arm. They lay there like that for sometime, before he spoke and woke her up from the almost slumber, "Why, Arabella?"

She hummed, shifted a little to look up at him, "Do you want to sleep?"

Before he could react, she sat up, her back resting against the back of the bed. "Come on", she whispered, patting her thighs.

He had protested the first time she had offered that to him some months ago. But, this time, he took the offer almost immediately.

One arm wrapped around her thighs, his breathing slowed into a relaxed rhythm. She ran a hand through his dark and soft hair and the other held his free hand. He clutched her hand tightly, entwining their fingers together.

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The feeling of chilled, fresh cold air where his warmth had been, woke her up. A glimpse of him leaving the bedroom, dressed in his undershirt, pants and suspenders. She checked for the time. She had had an hour of sleep, then. It was almost dawn. Had Tommy slept at all?

She dreaded the thought of leaving him alone at this point so she left the room looking for him wearing only his overcoat, not wanting to waste time finding dresses. She didn't find him in the library. She wanted to search the entire house for him but it was a time waste right now. Everything was urgent, she didn't know why. He wouldn't be in the stables, she knew that. He didn't spend much time in there since Dangerous. So, she decided to look in her study, and in Charlie's room, which was on the way.

There he was. Sitting in her chair in her study, smoking.

The fire and lights weren't lit. The faint glow of the oncoming dawn lighting the room just enough to make out figures. The orange tip of his cigarette casting a heavenly glow on his face. His beauty never ceased to amaze her.

Tommy let her take the cigarette from his mouth and place herself on him. Her legs on either side of him. It was visible now, she just had his overcoat on. He couldn't bring himself to look at her face for reasons known to him.

He refused to look at her. She held his chin and guided his face upwards and kissed him before pressing her forehead to his.

"Did you sleep?", she whispered

His hands moved to hold her by the waist.

She parted to look at him, his eyes on her now. "Come back to bed, eh?" Tears were threatening to roll out of her eyes but she couldn't do that. Couldn't be weak. She hugged him, wrapping herself around him "Please", and kissed is neck.

Tommy hugged her back, tighter than she hoped he would. "I can't, Arabella"

"Tommy, look at me", she whispered.

He was staring at her like a lost puppy stares at someone who finds him.

"It's just in your head. The hallucinations. The suffering. Don't let it cloud anything."

She reached for his hands and held them together, "We can handle this, okay? I'm right here and we'll handle everything. Mosley, Billy Boys, Michael. Everything"

"You know"

Maybe if he'd be a bit specific, she thought.

"Know what?"

"She's so real"

Her mind and body froze.

"She's-", he hid his face in her chest, Wanted to melt in her warmth.

No words came out of her mouth. She was choking on her own words, knowing that everything she'll say will go in vain in that moment. So she held him. Running her fingers in his hair to calm him down.

It was absolute silence till she spoke again, as softly as she could, "Give up the opium. Please." He held her tighter. "Please, Tom"

She was almost sure that the little dampness she felt on her bare chest was her husband's tears. It broke her heart but she stayed there to let him cry. At least he showed some emotion and leaving him alone was not what she was going to do.

"It keeps me warm"

Silence

"Let me keep you warm", she whispered in his ear, kissing the spot just behind it.

Surprisingly, his grip on her loosened and he looked directly at her now. Present in the moment.

She pressed her forehead to his, cradling his face in her hands, "I'll keep you warm, Tom. I will. I promise" a tear finally escaped her eyes. It broke her seeing the man she loved in this condition.

"Just come back to bed for now. Please" merely a whisper.

Roslyn stood back up and extended a hand towards him, which he took after some hesitation.

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I have no idea how to end this. I'll write one if it ever strikes my mind.

[acerine]

Can I request a naruto x reader? Where she’s apart of team 7 and her and naruto was dating but they fight and break up. Which causes her to get depressed and develop an eating disorder and everyone gets worried when she shows up to train bc she looks sickly and her bones stick out badly. Just angst with happy ending? (You don’t have to write it if you’re uncomfortable with this topic. I suffer from anorexia and it’s hard to find stories on this topic. I do understand if you don’t wanna write it)

Hold Me

Pairing: Naruto x Reader

Warnings: Angst, eating disorder, like one cuss word

A/N: I don't have a problem with writing about disorders but I just get worried that i’m not portraying them properly, please reach out to someone if you are suffering. aaaand that ending wasn't as happy as I wanted but I think it works. 

I don't have much knowledge on anorexia so im so sorry if I didn't write about it properly. 

masterlist

uzumaki naruto

You groaned and plopped yourself on a bench near the entrance to the village, exhausted from the search for your boyfriend. He had dashed off immediately after training was finished without a word to you; again. You were getting worried due to how often this was happening, especially worried because he had been speaking to you less -- the only time you really saw him was during Team 7 training. You had asked Sasuke and Kakashi if they knew where he was going but they seemed to be just as clueless as you.

Looking up and seeing the sun set, you decided it was time to head home. He’d tell you whatever was troubling him eventually; you could only hope at least. “Nope -- don’t doubt him, he's never given you a reason to.” you softly mumbled to yourself, but the creeping heaviness in your heart told you otherwise.

As you walked through the village you felt your stomach grumble, the exhaustion from training and searching finally catching up to you. You decided to stop by Ichiraku’s -- it was on the way to your house and their ramen is rejuvenating, especially after gruesome training with Sasuke. shudder. He certainly gives training his all, the developing bruises were proof of that.

“Naruto that’s your 3rd bowl!” a voice giggled, bringing you back to reality.

Did they just say Naruto? Of course your boyfriend would be here! Why didn't you think of checking Ichiraku’s first? You quietly chuckled to yourself as you walked towards the voices, excited to finally see your boyfriend and share some ramen with him. But you certainly weren't expecting to see your boyfriend with his arm around Sakura nor did you expect to see how close their faces were

...

“Naruto...what are you doing?” your voice cracked slightly. Naruto and Sakura both halted their movements. Slowly he turned his head to gaze at you, “W-What are you doing here Y/n?”

Sakura looked guilty and avoided your gaze; immediately letting you know that she was aware of your relationship and what she was doing. “No seriously, what are you doing here with her?” you forced out, the strain in your voice becoming less evident, your anger overpowering your sadness.

“I was just catching up with Sakura, I haven't seen her since she started working with the other medical ninja!” He yelled out in an attempt to defend himself, his eyes darting away from you to his bowl. “Y/n calm down...it’s not what it looks like.” Sakura softly spoke. You scoffed, “Then why cant either of you look at me?”

No response.

After a minute of silence you had had enough, “Okay well don't stop on my behalf. Have fun with Sakura, Naruto.” Turning around, you began to walk away before feeling a grip on your upper arm, “Wait what's that supposed to mean?”

“Im pretty sure you know what it means.” Ripping your arm away from his grasp you sluggishly began your walk home, your body in pain from training and from your aching heart.

...

You closed the door behind you, locking it, and diving face-first onto your couch. The events from before finally registering in your head. Soft sobs began to fill the empty room and the couch pillows became stained with tears. What did she have that you didn't? You knew he used to have a crush on her when he was younger but you thought he outgrew it. Hell, you thought she had a crush on Sasuke, since when has she been interested in Naruto? Your mind was filled with questions.

Your stomach grumbled once again, this time louder than before. You didn't have the energy to get up and make yourself anything -- you weren't even sure if you even had food at home. Moving into a sitting position you glanced at the kitchen before getting up and heading to your room, you could eat in the morning after you slept off today’s events.

...

You woke up and slowly got ready for training; not mentally prepared to face Naruto after your break up. You felt a pang in your chest at the thought of his name -- making you aware of how difficult training was going to be. You sighed and began to make your way to the training grounds, taking a look at the kitchen. The last time you ate was yesterday morning but you felt fine, although the painful growl said otherwise. Shaking your head, you moved towards the door and left.

...

Naruto hadn’t showed up to training today. Kakashi said he had gone on a year training mission with Jiraiya. How convenient. They could both tell something was off between you two. “How about we cancel practice today? I think we deserve a day off.” Sasuke rolled his eyes at Kakashi, “And what are we supposed to do while you read a crappy book?”

“How about you two be actual teenagers for once?” Kakashi grumbled before heading off, leaving you and Sasuke alone with nothing to do. “Well since the moron and Kakashi aren’t here do you want to train with me?” Sasuke was pretty hardcore when it came to training — seriously, this kid did not know how to hold back. Training was life or death with him but you didn’t know what else you could possibly do on your free time other than wallow in your self pity, so you agreed.

Yeah, let’s just say you were better off moping in your room.

...

Your body felt so weak from training, the only fuel being emitted into your body came from a banana. You were constantly burning away calories and weren’t eating enough to refill them but you just couldn’t bring yourself to eat a proper meal. After finding Naruto and Sakura 12 months ago, you hadn’t felt hungry. Sure your body was weak and your stomach growled occasionally but you weren’t hungry. You hated how everyone said otherwise.

“Y/N are you sure you’re not hungry? You’re starting to look like a pile of bones...”

“Seriously, i think you should eat something.”

“Your movements are becoming sluggish, fix it.”

It was all you heard now. You felt fine. You looked fine. Why was everyone freaking out? Was it because you lost a bit of weight?!

Annoyed, you began to make your way to the meet Kakashi and Sasuke. Today would be the day Naruto returned and you just wanted to get it over with. Once you arrived all you were met with the usual concerned gazes from Kakashi, an indifferent Sasuke, but now you were met with a new pair of eyes. He looked good. Really good. 

Fuck, you couldn’t do this. “You know what...i’m not feeling too hot right now so i’m going to head on home.” Your words tumbling out as you spun around, ready to return the way you came. But your legs crumbled from underneath you, too weak to fully support you anymore. You could hear Kakashi and Sasuke’s cries of concern but you couldn’t focus on them, you could only focus on the one person you didn’t want to. “Woah, what’s wrong?!” Came his frantic voice — his arms capturing your frame before you could fully hit the ground.

Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.

You knew he could feel your bones, your oversized shirt no longer able to hide your secret. His eyes hardened before picking you up and carrying you to your house. You felt so tired and it felt like this was a dream. Everything was so hazy and you couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on. Did you actually collapse at the training field or did you hallucinate that? You couldn’t tell anymore.

But his hold on you felt real. His scent smelled real. What was he doing carrying you, you two broke up because he decided to get cozy with another girl.

Before you knew it you were being laid on your bed, “I’m going to go get some food, just...wait for me okay?” His voice cracked. Why did his voice crack? “Yeah uh okay...” Why were you agreeing to what he was saying? You watched as he walked away from your room, “What is going on?” you softly mumbled to yourself, attempting to regain your sense of reality. Staring up at the ceiling, you didn’t realize how much you changed in the year that you two broke up. Yeah okay maybe you lost some weight, and maybe you only left your room when it was time for training or missions, but was it really that odd? 

You saw Naruto coming back into your room and sat on the bed -- it dipping under his sudden weight. He had made you some soup, surprisingly not ramen, and held the spoon up to your lips, “Eat it.” You couldn't bring yourself to argue with him so you complied. The only sounds surrounding you two were the clanging of the spoon against the bowl and your small gulps. Your stomach felt warm, you had forgotten the feeling of a full stomach. 

A choked sob captured your attention. You looked up away from the bowl held in front of you and saw the tears streaming down your ex-boyfriend’s face. “Im sorry for doing this to you. I wouldn't have left if I knew this would happen.” His voice shakily cried out. You didn't know what to do, was your condition really that bad? He set the bowl onto your nightstand and cradled your cheek, his other hand wiping at his tears. “I’m so sorry.” He continuously cried out. 

The hand on your cheek felt warm, it was nice. Both of his hands now wiped at your cheeks, you hadn't realized you were crying but he was wiping your tears away for you. 

Maybe you were broken, maybe it was his fault, who could say? You pulled him into the bed with you and he held you in his arms -- he made you feel like you would be okay, he made you feel safe again. Sure you two had a long way to go before you could trust him but for now you were happy just being with him. Like it was before that day last year. 

“Please just hold me.”

[crystalsexarch]

Muster - E

Perhaps it would help him remember. He was ashamed to recognize what remembering was doing to his body already. Making him hot. Making him hard.

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Explicit. Specific male WoL. Bas'ir Bahani. The Crystal Exarch appears in a dream so realistic, the Warrior of Darkness swears he can taste it...or perhaps he can. Pre-reveal tomfoolery with mild angst.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2020 FFXIV Writing Challenge

Bas'ir had fallen asleep with his prosthetic on, and now he couldn't discern reality from dreams. Wide eyed, he stared at the ceiling of his gifted room at the Pendants and tried to force himself to count (something, anything, knots or cracks or decorative carvings) instead of recount.

He clenched his sheets with both hands. He had fallen asleep with his prosthetic, despite how much it always troubled him by means of aches or awakeness. He had slept easily. Truly. Through the night. Whatever he dreamt of didn't have a clear color, if he had dreamt at all. But that was part of the problem. Had he dreamt? Or was it real, what had happened?

He had fallen asleep with his prosthetic. Usually this behavior invited insomnia or nightmares. What he had experienced was neither. Could it have been...the truth?

With a deep breath out, he ran his hand of flesh across his neck and felt the dancing blood of his body. It remembered the night just as well as he. Cautiously, he trailed his tongue across his fangs, half expecting to taste what he was certain he had tasted—that hand, that sweat, that man.

The Crystal Exarch.

Bas'ir gulped. Last night, he had hobbled his way up to his room with a pain in his body and a blistering brain. The burning light inside muted his perception of time, but if he had the right of it, he had dozed for perhaps half a bell. And then came the knock. I can answer, he had thought, wilting left and right on his way to the door. I can make it. But he couldn't. After he collapsed, he saw the wood part and give way to hurried sandals, helping hands. But he couldn't keep his eyes open for long.

The Exarch must have carried him to bed. An amusing notion, but one that made a certain degree of sense. The parts Bas'ir was having trouble swallowing came later.

The Warrior rolled around in bed and squeezed his left arm—what remained of it—and weighed whether to disconnect his mechanical parts now that he was awake. Perhaps it would help him remember. He was ashamed to recognize what remembering was doing to his body already. Making him hot. Making him hard.

If it wasn't real, what did that say about his feelings for the man who had summoned him? A man he wanted to despise?

With a huff, he sat up and leaned against the wall. This is how he'd risen in the early morning hours, wearing exactly as little as he wore now: a long white tunic and modest smallclothes. Even through bleary eyes, he had spotted the Exarch slumped over the table with his hands clasped together. A great burden seemed to pull the man closer to the ground. "Exarch," Bas'ir had called, voice hoarse. "...Exarch."

The second time, he stirred and looked both ways before settling on the Warrior. He stood and smoothed his robes with a stiff sweep of his arms, then ambled over. "Forgive me," he said, reaching the bed. One hand reached out as though he meant to smooth the covers and sit by the Keeper’s side, but he recoiled. Too close to a fire. "I couldn't bring myself to leave you. When I heard you fall, I—"

"Why," Bas'ir said, "were you here?" He felt like he had run a hundred malms in his slumber.

Hood or no, the Exarch looked guilty with his fingers coiled together. "Your fellow Scions led me to believe...the light had compromised your health. My intentions were only to—"

Bas'ir coughed into his lap, then into his elbow. "Water," he said with a half-hearted gesture to the kitchenette. The Exarch dutifully followed. Flowing liquid made the Warrior’s ears prick to the side, but he kept his head down, brought a knee up and leaned on it. He didn’t really feel pain anymore. Just exhaustion. He wasn’t sure he could hold a glass on his own, despite the fact that that’s exactly what he was going to have to do.

“Here.”

A leader’s voice bade him raise his head. He managed to raise his eyelids.

The Exarch was a silhouette, figuratively and literally. Something shrouded in shadow. “Do you...require assistance?”

“No.” Bas’ir scrunched his nose and reached for the glass with his right arm. Bringing it to his chest was hard enough, so he enlisted his left to hold it steady. Gods the water was good. Cool and brimming with vitality and streaming down his chin and onto his chest and—

“Ah—”

The Exarch clasped his hands around Bas’ir’s, around the glass. Crystal on metal, flesh on flesh. Perhaps hoping to catch some of what the Warrior had already spilled—surely that was the intent—a stray finger landed at the corner of the Keeper’s lips and lingered.

“My…” Apologies should have come from the Exarch’s mouth next, but it didn’t. “Bas’ir.”

A breathy sound caught in the Warrior’s throat. At this point he started wondering about dreams and wakefulness and hallucinations, about light and love and loss. The glass’s gradual motion away from his lips felt as natural as the Exarch’s left hand exploring his face with strange commitment. Of course the glass ended up snugly between his thighs. Of course the Exarch’s thumb was cheating at his teeth. Of course he opened his mouth wider to let the stranger in.

Neither man said anything. But Bas’ir wanted to. He wanted, in those hazy moments, for the Exarch to do more than trace his fangs and test his tongue. He wanted lots of things—answers, firstly, but he wouldn’t have complained if the Exarch slipped that crystal arm beneath the hem of his shirt and tested something there as well. He wanted to know how hot the Exarch’s body was under those robes, and more than anything he wanted to know the face that glared beneath. To know if it tasted the same as it used to or if someone else had tainted it.

Or maybe he didn’t want to know.

Regardless, he was hard and red-faced. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in ages. Nothing bound him, but he may as well have had his hands tied. Was he a fool for reading this as sexual? Was there some other explanation for the Exarch’s willingness to wet his fingers? Bas’ir would have to rely on his powers of observation. Determined, he peered up at the shadow-man, fighting his lusty eyelids. He saw no smile, no flush, no hints whatsoever—not until the Exarch’s lips parted.

“Do you…” he said, softly, “...bite?”

If it really were a dream, Bas’ir would need to thank his subconscious later. Those lusty lids came down now, along with his teeth. He rolled his head in time with the bite, sliding the fangs he’d once hated against fingers he wanted to hate. The Exarch gasped, then groaned, then leaned closer...spilling the water onto the Warrior’s lap.

“Ah!”

“Shhhhite!”

They separated without thinking about it. Bas’ir, still reeling from the rush of coolness soaking his bed, squinted and wondered if they’d ever again come together.

“I can retrieve fresh sheets,” the Exarch said.

“No...no matter.” Bas’ir edged away from the puddle. “There’s room enough for several men my size to sleep here, dodging damp spots…”

He set his jaw. “I’m sure there’s a full set of linens on hand.”

“Exarch.” He was hunched over like some territorial beast all of a sudden. “I would really rather lie down this very moment.”

The Tower’s Keeper swayed left and right, like each side represented his fight to suppress a caretaker’s instincts. But eventually he clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Very well.”

As soon as he was gone, Bas’ir curled up and deflated. Yes, he wanted to touch himself. He could admit that much. But that activity, he decided, was best left for the morning when he could better read reality. And so he found himself with his back flat against the wall, neck craning, right hand drawing forth that long delayed orgasm. He could feel it in his toes, in his tail. It hadn't taken long. The fantasy was too powerful, too particular. He came harder than he had in moons, and had to stop himself from giving it another go before rising for the day in earnest. All from a memory, or a dream.

As for which had borne his inspiration, he could not be certain. Not without asking. Whether it would take strength or weakness to work up the will, he wasn't sure. So far the only thing he’d mustered was lust.

Later that morning, he and the Scions gathered in the Ocular to assess their latest strategies. The Exarch behaved exactly as he always had. No signs of indiscretion or embarrassment. The truth, then, bored Bas’ir, and though he was invested in his fight for the First, he couldn’t help but pace the room with crossed arms and knitted brows. It was coincidence that he happened to glance at the Exarch, gesturing mid-sentence. Bas'ir could have sworn he saw a tiny pink slit on the man’s left index finger. But perhaps it was a trick of the light, or a trick of the light.

[cyhyr]

day 1: reunion

for @sylvix-week because like. why not. i wrote this in half an hour so if it’s bad, i’m sorry. this is also my first time writing for this fandom so i also apologize for ooc-ness if it shows (i’m very confident in my inability to write felix). i may put it onto ao3 tomorrow.

Edit: On the Archive

cw: illness, sick whump

It would be two years until Sylvain saw Felix again. Edelgard’s forces destroying the monastery eventually scattered the Blue Lion house and while the threat of invasion from the Empire was significant and imposing, Sylvain was not allowed to forget about the constant threat of Sreng to Gautier territory. With the Lance of Ruin in hand, Sylvain returned home. For two years he rode back and forth between the northern and eastern boundaries of Gautier land. He didn’t have time to catch his breath, let alone fall ill.

Yet still, illness caught up with him.

With a burning fever and a cough threatening to put him in an early grave, the Gautier colonels forced Sylvain to bedrest and led the battalions themselves. By the end of the fifth day, unable to even keep down fluids, Sylvain was sure he was hallucinating. 

It couldn’t be Felix, afterall. The Fraldarius dukedom was hot with battles; there was no way his father would have approved Felix detouring this far east, not when the agreement between their Houses was such that Gautier would cover the eastern and northern fronts and Fraldarius the western and social fronts. And yet someone with dark hair and Felix’s scowl was changing the cloth on his forehead and helping him sip water. Sure it could be the Duke himself, but there was the whole issue with the social front at which Felix had no skill. 

“Pull through, Sylvain,” he muttered. “Your men need you.”

Sylvain drifted. He dreamt of climbing trees and days spent running and laughing. Lines of girls, single file, all faceless and monotone. Amber eyes lit by candlelight and whispered promises they should have known they couldn’t keep. Chasing and chasing and reaching and never quite--

“Lord Fraldarius, you’re needed for tactics.” 

“I approve of whatever the generals decide.”

“My lord--”

“You don’t need me, you need him. I’m needed here. I’ve no care for tactics and planning. Let the Imperial army come and I’ll put my blade through every one of them.”

Sylvain had a hand in his own and stared at the ceiling of the tent. When did he wake up? He turned to look and sighed to see Felix at his side. Once he had Felix’s attention, he cleared his throat and grumbled, “You look like shit.”

A bare palm pressed against his forehead, and then Felix drifted his fingers down the side of his face to his throat and pressed two to his pulse. The scowl softened to a barely-there frown. “Your fever broke in the night, but your pulse is still too fast. You should eat, if you can.”

“Have you slept at all?” 

“Not since I heard you were on your deathbed.”

“I meant that as a joke.”

“I didn’t.”

Felix stood and crossed the tent and filled a mug with water. Before he came back to Sylvain’s side, he stuck his head outside and muttered something to the guards standing there. Once he returned to his seat, he helped Sylvain sit up and held the mug for him to drink. 

“Not too much,” Felix took the mug away. “You haven’t kept anything down since I got here.”

“How long was I out?”

“Two weeks. I only got here three days ago.”

“You haven’t slept in three days?”

Felix shrugged. “Your camp couldn’t spare constant care and you needed it.”

“Still that’s--”

“I don’t want to hear it. You still need to rest.” He stood up and stretched, then began to walk to the door. “Someone will be by with food. Try to eat.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find a pad or a cot I can sleep. Even when passed out you’re exhausting to be around.”

Sylvain laughed, which turned into coughing. When he opened his eyes again, Felix had returned to his side, scowl firmly back in place. Sylvain waved him off. “I’m okay, really. You said my fever broke, and I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. Just.”

He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Felix walked away. 

“Felix!” Sylvain stopped him. “Don’t leave without saying good-bye, okay?”

The scowl turned to frown and then to the ghost of a smile. “You neither.”

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

21 and 22 for Gruvia! (If ya wanna change the pairing you can) :)

            First off, as an after note: holy god this was amazing and I had so much freaking fun writing it. I’m dead, send help. Second, I intended to include the thigh-high stockings more but the whole tortured past thing kind of took over and I went with it. 

Anyways! Ihope you like this– it’s kind of an AUish thing I came up with based on both of these prompts. Iguess it’s kind of a modernish-urban-fantasy-ish AU. Kind of like a… dark CityHero? Ahhh… whatever it is… it happened. :P

Gruvia – #21 + # 22: Thigh-high stockings and garter belts + Neon lights at 1:30am 

    As per usual, he couldn’t sleep. Outsideit was pouring rain. He could see itthrough his wide apartment windows, coming down in sheets. Somewhere theceiling was leaking. He could hear the constant dripping. It was faster thanusual—a testament to the downpour outside. It had been a long week, he was sotired he felt like he might be hallucinating. His eyes strained to see throughthe sheet of rain, his head was pounding with a nasty headache, but every timehe fell asleep, he could see it all over again. The blood. Her shallow breathing.

           His eyes snapped open. It was stillraining. Urging himself out of bed he stumbled towards the door to grab hisboots and coat. Fine. If I can’t sleep Imight as well be doing something useful. The job they had been working onwas to track down and underground dark guild in the city. They had beenconnected to several recent murders. Gray’s team, which included himself, Lucy,Natsu, and Erza, had been put on the task. Juvia had been disappointed. But shewas still limping from their last bit of trouble with one of the dark guilds.No way in hell was he, or anyone else on the force, letting her go out on fieldlike that. He would head over to HQ and look over the files… no, better yet: he’dtake the files to a bar. The music and neon lights would keep him from driftingoff, and maybe a drink would calm his nerves.

           He moved through the dingy hallwayof his apartment building, paused at the bottom of the stairs, facing the terribledownpour outside, flipped up the collar of his coat, and stepped out into citylights. Somewhere in the distance he could hear sirens. The passing and honkingof cars invaded his senses, even about the roaring of the rain. He was out,walking for only a few moments before his shoulders were soaked, but he had neverbeen bothered by the rain.

           One quick stop at HQ. Not many of theteam was there so late at night. Mira was still there. She managed the frontdesk. She was just putting on her coat to head home.

           “Oh! Gray, what are you doing back?”

           “I’d get a taxi,” Gray warned, as hepassed by into the main office. He didn’t wait to hear Mira’s response. He wentstraight to his desk, across the room. He knew the case files were in thelowest drawer.

           “Hey, ice-brain!” Gajeel?

           “Gajeel, what are you still doinghere?” Gray narrowed his eyes. The broad-shouldered detective was leaning back inhis chair, his feet propped up on his desk, bouncing a snow globe back andforth in his big hands. He chuckled.

           “Waiting for something to happen.Took the late-night shift this week. What the hell are you doing here?”

           “Couldn’t sleep.” Gray replied,yanking open the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out the files. “I’mgoing for a drink. Gonna mull this over.”

           “Whatever blows your skirt up,” Gajeelshrugged, returning his attention to the snow globe in the palm of his hand. Grayrolled his eyes and exited the building, holding the files close to his chestas he moved through the rain once more. He knew a late-night bar not far from HQ.He and the others had gathered there before. The owner knew them all. Maybe he’dget a discount.

           The bar was dimly lit. There were afew patrons here and there, but no large crowds. The neon sign above the barcast flickering shadows on the barstools. Gray took a seat at his usual one,and spread the files out over the counter. Alright.Where to start?

           “What can I get ya, detective?” Theowner and bartender leaned against the counter, his eyes flickering over thefiles, but he was used to it.

           “Whatever’s strongest,” Grayreplied, and then flipped over the first manila folder. Pictures. Blood. Bodies. He shut the folder. You’dthink I’d be used to it by now. A small glass filled with amber liquid and icewas set down with a light tap in front of him and he downed it in one go. Bloodmade him think of her. He hated that. He glanced back at thefiles, noting that he had grabbed one more than he should have—than he wantedto. Scribbled on the little title tab were the words: Lockser Case—shooting—Jan 21st X791.

           “I’ll have another one,” Gray said,setting his glass down with a shaking hand. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he’dever be.

***

           “There you are,” A firm hand graspedGray’s shoulder, “Juvia has been worried sick! Looking everywhere for you.” Afamiliar face… blurry… Gray let out a groan. He certainly had slept, but his head hurt even worse now.It was still dark outside. Was it really that early? Above them the neon lightflickered. Juvia was dressed in her everyday clothes. It had been a while sincehe’d seen her in his uniform. Tonight, she was wearing a short light blue dress… or maybe it was light green? God, whycouldn’t he tell? The lighting was weird. And stockings. She was wearing araincoat. In one pocket he could see the handle of an umbrella sticking out. Hewondered if in her civilian clothes she still wore a pistol at her thigh. He hadseen the holster once before, and for some reason he was really itching to seeit now, just above the hem of her skirt…

           “Gray!” Juvia snapped, her grip onhis shoulder tightening. “Let’s go home.” Sheleaned over his lap to gather up the case files, and then pulled him up byhis arm. He always forgot how strong she was. Even in his somewhat-still-drunkstate, he could tell she was still limping, and supporting him as well.

           “I’m fine,” he groaned, stopping inthe middle of the rain, “I’m fine. I can walk, Juvia.”

           Juvia turned to face him, the casefiles wrapped tightly in her rain coat, “What were you doing out so late?Gajeel told me you came in after midnight.” For the first time he realized thatit wasn’t anger written in her eyes. It was concern.

           “I couldn’t sleep,” he said shortly,trying to avoid a full-on conversation. I’mnot ready.

           “Why? Did you drink coffee thisafternoon, again?”

           “Hell no,” Gray groaned, “Neverrepeating that mistake.”

           “Then what’s wrong?” a soft hand, reachedout and touched his cheek. Blood. Hejerked away, stumbling backwards and landing in an enormous puddle just on theedge of the street. “Gray!” Juvia reached out to help him up, but Gray scrambledto his feet on his own. He couldn’t do this. “Hey! Stop!” Juvia screamed, andher voice brought him to a shuddering halt. He hated that. “You’ve been acting weird since January! For a whileyou wouldn’t even look at Juvia! What’swrong?!” There were tears in hereyes, even through all the rain, even through the water dripping from his hairand into his eyes, he could see that.

           His head was still pounding. He droppedit into his hands, and groaned, and then looked up with a renewed energy. “There’sa case file in your hands, Juvia. It wouldn’t be there… it wouldn’t exist… if it wasn’t for me.” He let out a shuddering breath, andthen said the words he had been so afraid of admitting before, the volume ofhis voice rising with each syllable: “It’s myfault! You should never have beenhurt! And here we are! Everything that happened, I should have seen it coming.It never should have happened at all! It’s all…my… fault…” And then he burst into uncontrollable sobs, which he knew waspartly due to the alcohol. Juvia was staring at him, her eyes wide, her knuckleswhite from holding onto those stupid casefiles. The case files…

           The case files hit the soakingpavement with a splatter of water, and suddenly he was in her arms, sobbing againsther neck, clinging to her rain coat like it was everything. “It’s not anyone’s fault,” she whispered. “Juviajoined the force knowing that one day something like this was likely to happen.Gray, you were there when it did. For that, Juvia is so grateful.” She was shivering, soaked to the skin in the downpour.

           “But… the nightmares…”

           “Juvia will come with you. Juviawill stay with you, until you’re asleep.” Her hand brushed against his cheek. For a moment they were frozen in time, and then Gray lunged forward,closing the distance between them at last, pulling her closer by her rain coat.Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he practically lifted her off herfeet. Below them, on the sidewalk, the case files quickly soaked up water,turning into mush. They were ruined. He didn’t give a damn.

[swampy-taint-witch]

Here are 70 reasons why KakaVege is totally a thing

•Vegeta had to have chose to be naked when showing up in Gokus dreams after he died. No one takes your clothes when you die. Either that or Goku hallucinated Vegeta as naked. •Vegeta somehow pieces together that Goku is Kakarot and immediately holds off a giant fight to wait for him. •In Super, they hold hands when instant transmitting, when Vegeta could've easily put his hand on Gokus shoulder. •After instant transmitting Vegeta avoids eye contact with literally everyone and looks extremely embarrassed. •Whenever an evil saiyan comes to earth and calls Goku Kakarot he gets angry, but when Vegeta does it's okay because it's Vegeta's name for him. Like almost a pet name.

•After spending a year with Goku at Beerus' planet, Vegeta chooses to sit next to Goku instead of his wife that he hasn't seen in a year •Goku didn't immediately use kaioken on Nappa so he could show off to Vegeta •Vegeta killed Nappa for embarrassing him in front of Goku (and killing Piccolo but whatever)

•Goku sat with his arm slung around Vegeta's shoulders •Vegeta caught Goku bridal style •They prank each other very subtly • "Just wait, you'll find your match in Goku." ~Piccolo (to Vegeta) DBZ episode 25, 20:24 •During the Buu saga Vegeta restrains Goku against a mountain and smacks him around. It seems a bit kinky. •During his restraint, Goku could've gotten out the whole time. He either stayed because he liked it or he knew Vegeta liked it. Either way it's gay. •Vegeta makes Goku chase him around. Seemingly to show him his ass. •Piccolo refuses to go into the time chamber with the two of them because he knows. •Goku begged for Krillin to spare Vegeta even though there was more danger to it than not. •Both times they fight they end up holding hands. •They slept in the same room on Beerus' planet. BEERUS IS A GOD. BEERUS HAS MORE THAN ONE GUEST BEDROOM. •Goku buries Vegeta after he dies, even though he didn't bury Yamcha, Tien, or Piccolo • "Wow, my body's so weak I can barely stand up." ~Goku  (indirectly to Vegeta) DBZ episode 32, 18:55 • "I guess that means you can't run from me anymore now." ~Vegeta (to Goku) DBZ episode 32 20:25 •In Super, Goku is the only one consistently cheering Vegeta on while he's fighting Magetta •When asking Krillin to spare Vegeta, Goku sounded extremely desperate to have him survive •As Vegeta is leaving in his pod, Goku smiles up at it almost sadly •After instant transmitting, neither of them let go of the others hand immediately. But both of them are 'disgusted' with it. •Vegeta keeps Goku from dying during nearly every fight that they fight together. GOOD LUCK KILLING GOKU WHEN VEGETAS AROUND. •Vegeta insists on fighting Frost when he has literally no reason to other than because he poisoned Goku during a fight •As Goku is falling into Vegetas arms, Vegeta looks horrifically concerned about Gokus safety •As soon as Vegeta wakes up on Frieza planet 79 the first thing he says is "Kakarot" •While recuperating from the fight, Goku uses the words that Vegeta said to him as motivation. •When sacrificing himself to Buu, Vegeta says Trunks' name before Bulmas, implying that Trunks being his son came before Bulma being his implied wife. He also addressed Goku last, and his name was the last proper name he says before he tells Buu he is going to kill himself. •When Roshi told Goku that Vegeta was on Namek he was incredulous, but he didn't even react learning that there was an even stronger being there too. •In Super, Goku has a smile and is laughing nervously when he sees how pissed off Vegeta is after nearly losing but being saved by a rule. •In Dokkan Battle, the following is said by Vegeta: "Kakarot is mine! Don't lay a finger on him!" "It'll be inconvenient for me as well if you don't give Kakarot his body back." For obvious reasons this leads us to believe that Vegeta had 'other' uses for Gokus body. •In episode 44 of Super, Goku uses one of Vegeta's attacks during training. •"Come, Kakarot!" ~ Superhuman Water Vegeta, DBS episode 45. • In the history of Trunks movie at the beginning, when Goku dies, it exclusively only shows Vegeta's reaction. "Ka..karot. No.." •In episode 46 of super, Vegeta is struggling to decide if he should root for Goku or his clone. We all know Vegeta loves himself quite a bit. •In the first Broly movie, once Vegeta returns from looking for the legendary super saiyan, he sees Goku sitting in a windowsill. They have a short encounter, and at first Vegeta is smiling once Goku addresses him. •Additionally, Goku smiles dumbly while watching Vegeta walk away. •"Vegeta? Vegeta, are you in here? I'm tired of waiting for you. Plus I haven't eaten breakfast yet. Yoowho!" What was Goku waiting for Vegeta for, huh? •After Broly nails Goku in the face the screen breaks apart, revealing Vegeta, who is standing on a building that starts breaking apart. It cuts to Vegeta, and not Gohan? Gokus first son? •When Goku is getting his ass handed to him, after every hit it cuts to Vegeta, pleading for Goku to give up.. the only thing that would stop is Gokus pain. Does Vegeta care? •Really, in all of the times Vegeta and Goku have gotten their heads rammed together, theres a very slim chance that their lips havent touched. At least a little. •After Vegeta catches Goku, he pauses for a second and looks him in the eyes. And when it cuts to Gokus face, you see Vegetas fingers a little bit too relaxed looking against his neck. •In Super, after spending a year in the hyperbolic time chamber, Goku and Vegeta came out with beards. In one shot, Vegeta is standing behind Goku, one hand on the others shoulder. • In Fusion Reborn, Goku flies into a pile of needle balls to save Vegeta. Goku is terrified of needles of normal sizes, let alone ones the size of his body. • "Somewhere, out in the darkness, Vegeta is waiting for me." Goku, episode 47, 16:01 • While talking to Dodoria, Vegeta admits that his fight with Goku was and 'enlightening experience', but he pauses, a bit awkward. It's during the fight that he realizes he's gay. • After killing Dodoria, Vegeta is gloating about how he's breaking his own expectations, then he randomly mentions that he wishes Goku and his friends were there to see his power. • The dragon ball that Vegeta steals from the namekian village is the four star. The same number of stars in the ball Goku had as a kid. • "If I keep this up, I should be ready for Vegeta." Goku- ep 53 8:20. He's completely ignoring the fact that Frieza even exists while Vegeta is around. He then looks happily off into the ceiling. • After Gohan steals the dragon ball from the lake and runs into Vegeta, he calls Gohan the 'son of Kakarot'. Instead of going 'oh, there's Gohan', he goes, 'oh, there's the son of the man I think about probably way too much'. • While talking to Gohan, Vegeta asks him suddenly if Goku is on Namek too. • At Guru's house, Dende mentions that there is a high power level approaching them. Krillin thinks out loud that it might be Goku, and Vegeta cuts him off screaming 'KAKAROT?!' While looking into the air. He's a little too excited. • After saving Krillin, Goku asks why Vegeta is fighting with them, all the while staring at him from afar. • When Recoome attacks Goku and he pretty much teleports behind Jeice and Burter, Vegeta is the only one who was able to keep an eye on him. • Vegeta is quote, "the only one who understands Goku." Seems pretty gay • When it looks like Jeice annihilated Goku with Ki blasts, the camera cuts to Vegeta and he looks fucking devastated. • Goku explicitly says he was hoping Vegeta changed for the better so they could team up after Vegeta finished Burter and Recoome off. • There is an attraction phenomenon called imitation, where the two tend to copy the others movement. While speaking about the namekian dragon balls with Gohan and Krillin, there is a shot showing all four of them, Goku and Vegeta in the exact same position. • Goku says he was hoping he could join forces with Vegeta, fight with him side by side. Vegeta nearly killed Goku, yet Goku still wants to have Vegeta be a part of his life. Not only that, but Vegeta is totally up for it until he flies off. • The imitation phenomenon is also shown between when Goku goes ssj3 in front of Buu, and when Majin Vegeta sacrifices himself, and in ep. 67 of super. • Goku and Vegeta's sacrifices were very similar, in an explosion, and neither of them succeeded in killing the villian. • Vegeta asks Piccolo if he'll see Goku in the afterlife. He doesn't even mention them trying to wish him back. •While Goku is healing, Vegeta chooses to sit down right next to him and nap when he could've gone anywhere else • In episode 67 of Super, Goku and Vegeta are sitting right next to each other and no where near their wives You know, even after they almost died 5 times • The term 'grass' can mean 'homosexual love' and the two cut grass every day for Whis as training. There's also a moment when Vegeta throws a handful of grass into the air.

That’s what I have as far as the things I’ve noticed and written down! Feel free to add to this list if I missed something!

[roaminginspiration]

Home to You

Part III

(part I), (part II), (final part)

Howard took him to an immense guest room and pointed at the en-suite bathroom for him to use before stepping out.

Jarvis followed soon after gently carrying an elegant wooden chest he put it on the end of the bed.

"Miss Carter took care of collecting all your clothes and belongings but after some the sight of them became too difficult so she entrusted them to Mr Stark to donate or make good use of, but he never brought himself to separate himself from it," Jarvis said quietly, gazing down at the chest. He opened it, took a pair of brown trousers and a light beige  shirt and put them on the bed next to it.

Steve remained, wistful, as he silently began to perceive the depth of his friends' grief. Howard hurried back into the room.

"Thank you, Jarvis." He casually nodded at his butler as an invitation to leave the room.

He then turned to Steve. "I'll just be down the hall," he said with unsettling seriousness. "If you need anything just let me know."

He patted Steve's arm and his eyes seemed to cloak with concern at the prospect of leaving him like he was taking the risk of never seeing him again. Howard brushed off the feeling with a feigned casual smile.

"Thank you, Howard."

He smiled again. A satisfied smile subtly tainted by culpability. "Of course," he mustered the words quietly, then headed towards the door. He paused and turned with a genuine content expression. "You're home now." Then he walked out.

And those three simple words left Steve standing dazed and disoriented in the middle of the room. He had spent so long away from home he was no longer where to find it, or if he would even recognize it.

After coming out of the shower, Steve walked to the chest and put on his old clothes. He looked himself in mirror with a puzzled expression. It as almost like he belonged to this time again. He stood in front of the case again and ran one hand over the smooth wood. As he put a hand on each side of the lid, he paused, staring down at it, anxious. He took a deep breath and lifted the chest. A pair of brown trousers and a beige shirt was lying on the top. He put them on the bed and looked into the box again. Coins, the novel he recalled he was reading the last few weeks before his last mission, a shiny decoration he had received post-mortem he had read in his file after waking up but that he had never wished to retrieve, a few black and white photographs of him and Bucky, his mother's watch. He picked up the latter and grazed it with his fingers as his eyes began to tingle as they cloaked with tears. The watch was just the way he remembered it the last time he had seen it. He brought it up to his chin and closed his eyes.

He then nodded silently to himself and put it down again. Next, he picked up the photographs. He and Bucky as civilians at Coney Island — he chuckled quietly at the memory; he and Bucky as soldiers, surrounded by the Howling Commando, cheering. He looked at the genuine smile on his own face and was struck by the sheer joy oozing from him. He realized he hadn't smiled this way in a very long time.

Glancing down, he noticed the brown leather book lying at the bottom of the chest. He reached for it with eagerness and flipped through the pages as he looked at all his old drawings and sketches. Some he recalled; some he had completely forgotten about. He remembered the feel of the lead pencil in his hand as he drew across the page, sitting quietly under the tent during the quiet days at the camp.

He realized how much time had passed when he felt like an old man going through the memories of a past life. Memories that brought a smile to his face, and yet remote memories he could never fully grasp again no matter how hard he would try.

This moment, although otherworldly precious, resonated very much an out of boy experience. He couldn't help feeling like he was flicking through the souvenirs and their intrisinc memories of a stranger he once used to know. And as content as he was in this moment, part of him senselessly felt uncomfortable and guilty relishing mementos that no longer really belonged to him.

He put everything back into the chest and went back to the bathroom to have a shave. That's when loud voices coming from the hall caught his attention.

"I am serious, Howard!" a female voice called out. "If you made me come all the way here for some fashion advice for your next tryst, I swear I will tear that mustache off your face without any shaving equipment."

His body tensed as he immediately recognized the owner of that voice. He walked over to the door and gently opened it. He peeked through and only caught three shadows reflecting at the end of the wall.

"That is not. I swear," Howard retorted. "And besides, I only called you once for that. You an't blame for it for the rest of my life!"

"Err, sir, I think we're steering away from the important topic," Jarvis babbled between them.

"Twice, Howard. You're forgetting that evening from last June."

"That was for the Promising  Enterprisers  banquet at the White House! You can't count it as a tryst when I was meeting with the President!"

"Except you ended up spending the night with his cute blonde counsellor," Peggy answered matter-of-factly.

"Sir, please." Jarvis pleaded desperately. "Miss Carter, you might want to give this clearly sensitive matter some rest."

"Right. Peggy — Peg," Howard started again with a much calmer voice. "I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you."

There was silence.

"Fine. I'm listening," she answered with a reluctant, heavy sigh.

"You might want to sit down."

"Whatever it is you have to tell me Howard, I can take it standing in my tights and heels."

"Mr Stark is right," Jarvis intervened. "It would be wiser to sit."

Peggy was struggling disapproving in loud protest when she suddenly froze and turned pale as Steve stood a few feet behind them. Her purse slipped out of her grasp and felt to the marble with a clatter.

Jarvis and Howard both turned to look at Steve, then cautiously steered their gazes back on Peggy's pale expression.

His heart was beating faster than he ever remembered it had before, and mustered a little composure to voice his next words gently.

"Peggy," he murmured. And that all he needed and wanted to say this moment.

She looked stunning — more beautiful than he recalled. Young and strong like he had once known her. The sight of her being so vigorous and youthful eclipsed the memory of all those frequent visits at the hospital in the future.

He couldn't help but smile at the miracle time reversing had just brought upon him.

"It's really him, Pegg" Howard murmured.

All the features on her face sprang into a a quiet gasp.

"Steve?" she eventually uttered.

He nodded calmly.

"Jarvis, I think we should go make some tea," Howard said but neither Steve or Peggy heard it.

The two men were off the second after.

Her two hands went to her mouth and her face suddenly twitched into a whimper. Her eyes filled up with tears and, like they both knew it was the right time, ran to each other.

She clasped her around his neck and squeezed anxious he would magically slip out like a vivid hallucination, until her arms went numb.

He heard her sobbing into his neck.

"It's been so long — so long," she cried, echoing her own words at the hospital decades from now. "I thought I would never see you again."

Holding her in his arms, smelling the familiar scent of lavender coming off her hair, and his mind and heart processing that the young Peggy we knew, and the Peggy whose coffin he had carried down the aisle, was in the flesh into his embrace, he arched over and held her tight against him, as tears rolled down his face.

"My Peggy," he whispered into her neck, grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought him back, as his finger slid down her silky dark hair. "It's so good to have you back."

He silently thanked the Universe and fate for that exquisite piece of unadulterated bliss.

And the moment seemed to go on for a heavenly eternity.

Later on that evening, after Howard had returned Peggy heard the story behind his return, standing next to him, holding tightly to his arm. She listened both content and troubled at the realization that the Steve by her side came from another time. Every time she locked eyes with him, she watched him with immeasurable admiration and affection, and he understood that the feelings she had once for him had never really died; if anything, they had grown in his absence, cherished like valuable relics.

Long after the clock had struck midnight, Peggy suggested that Steve should get some rest. But what was Peggy's suggestion was taken like an indisputable command by the males in the room. Jarvis wholeheartedly agreed — Howard did so too, but a bit more reluctantly. And soon all parted to different rooms, ,and Stark to his lab for research on time travel one could only assume.

Peggy was athirst for more and more details, even the most insignificant ones. She didn't talk much, simply listened. And then he came to understand she was simply insatiable of the sound of his voice.

Lying on the bed next time, she lost her feud against the night and fell into a deep slumber. Holding her dearly and taking on this peaceful, he watched her.

She slept in his arms that night for the first time.

* * *

Lying with her day clothes over  the untouched bed, Natasha was silently gazing at the white ceiling above her, unable to find sleep. Incapable of finding rest and a peace of mind.

When the first rays of sunshine broke through  the window, she finally got her excuse to get out of bed and wander about the building.

She didn't stop at the kitchen for her stomach did not yearn neither food  or liquid. She was on her way to the computers for some research when a familiar silhouette standing outside caught her attention. She hesitantly glanced around her then walked out to him.

Bucky was quietly staring at the sun rising.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked blankly without detaching his gaze from the horizon.

She remained silent and that was all he needed as an answer. Both he and Sam had been filled in with the news.

Natasha looked up at him, and for the first time, she saw how Bucky could look confused and disoriented, like a little child, without his best friend around. He never looked so defenseless.

"Why don't you tell me preoccupies you?" he asked. "You don't believe this Dr Strange can figure out a way to bring him Steve?"

She glanced down and folded her arms. "That's not what troubles me."

"So what troubles you?" he inquired calmly, but stern.

"I'm afraid...," she blurted, taken aback by her revealing choice of words. "I'm afraid that even if we find a way to bring him back he will choose to stay."

He turned his head to look at her. He watched her closely. "Why would he?"

She tried to gather and summarize the thousands thoughts she had been running over and over since the evening before. It was impossible for her to list them or even tell apart neutral from selfish ones.

"Why wouldn't he?" she answered. "He has every reason not to want to leave it all behind once again." She looked at Bucky again and realized it was the longest and most real  conversation they had ever had. "If you were sent back home, would you really choose to give it up?"

Bucky stared at the horizon again, and several seconds went by during which nothing but the sound of birds chirping.

"I don't know," he said musingly.

And she both appreciated and detested the dreaded, honest answer.