#in its defense I was drawing through the morning and its been really hot today so it was mostly on me that she was overheating

[the-stray-liger]

sad i couldnt play more ffxiv bc I was finally starting to get the hhang of playing with controller

[jaskwritesthings]

shadowgast and 36 "'you're the first person I think about when I wake up'" from the ways to say i love you prompt list, s'il vous plait?

tags: none

(ao3)

Essek pulls the simple ceramic cups out of the cupboard and carefully measures out the tea Caduceus left for them on his last visit. A sample from the Getain family this time, a fresh citrus flavour perfect to match the bite of the cold early morning and guaranteed to help Caleb wake up. He’s halfway through pouring the hot water over the dried leaves and flowers before he remembers just why the bed was so cold that morning. 

Caleb has business in Zadash, he left yesterday.

Essek stares at the half filled second cup that was wholly unnecessary and wonders, in his sleepy haze, just when he began to automatically collect two cups every morning without a single thought? Even the tea blend was chosen with Caleb in mind, something to help wake his groggy wizard to start the day well. 

He can’t rightly pinpoint the moment he went from skipping breakfast in favour of further studying to spending much of his morning in their kitchen, sharing slightly burnt scones and cooling cups of tea in the gentle early light. 

Yet here he is, even without Caleb, and now the kitchen feels oddly cold and empty as his own had years prior.  

He misses Caleb fiercely even though it’s only been a day. Less than a day really. Essek tries to think of something, anything, that could distract him from the absence of his partner but he comes up empty. Making meals, seeing to the chores, all of it usually shared with Caleb at his side. Their life together as intertwined as their overstuffed bookshelf cluttered with arcane tomes as much as copper store smut novels. 

Perhaps it should be suffocating, even alarming how much of his life has become him and Caleb. But it doesn’t feel that way. They have their hobbies, their separate studies and even their travels and work can deviate into two distinct paths like today. But there’s something comforting about the thought that Caleb is only a message away or simply downstairs. Someone he can reach for and know they’ll reach back, to share his life and all he holds dear and to be worthy in turn of Caleb’s most treasured moments, even if those moments are sometimes only one of the cat’s wearing a bandana that Caleb bought at the market. 

Essek’s part way through the familiar gestures before he fully realises it and he only hesitates for a brief second before completing the familiar spell. 

“Caleb, good morning…I made you tea, it appears that I am missing you. Be well today, I love you” Essek says haltingly, “Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot.”

He finishes his message far more sombre than the sing-songy doots would usually call for but he feels a touch embarrassed by the whole thing. 

“Foolish,” Essek scolds himself quietly. It’s ridiculous to miss his partner so soon, they’ve been parted for far longer in the past, but the simple act of preparing their morning tea has seemingly robbed him of his composure and logic. Perhaps because he didn’t sleep well. He’s become so used to Caleb’s soft snores at his side, the way Caleb curls around him at times that the bed felt empty and far too big with just him and the cats last night. 

A heavy thump draws his attention to the study, too heavy to be one of the cats, and Essek prepares a defensive spell for whatever has invaded their home on this rather morose morning. He breathes a sigh of relief when Caleb stumbles into the kitchen rubbing his eyes, still in his wrinkled sleep shirt and his hair loose from its usual cord falling in copper tangles around his face.

“Guten morgen schatz,” Caleb greets with a wide yawn. 

“You didn’t have to teleport home,” Essek chides but he can’t help the fond smile as Caleb comes to lean against his side, pressing his nose into Essek’s neck and breathing deeply. His shoulders drop with a contented sigh.  

“Ja but I missed you too,” Caleb mumbles and Essek’s chest feels suddenly too big and warm. 

“Tea?” Essek asks, holding up Caleb’s half filled mug for the sleepy Zemnian. 

“Danke liebling.”

[mxvladdy]

Hello! I love your writing and I may have a prompt, if it strikes your fancy. I'm aware it might not be entirely lore-friendly a request, but I love relationship shenanigans in Obey Me, so I got to ask: how do you think Luci, Diavolo, Satan and Beel would help their anxious SO adjust when MC begins demonstrating mad prowess in witchcraft right after they first spend the night together? Sex, power and pacts seem to go hand-in-hand in related media, but no one really planned for it in their case!

Awww thankie and sorry for the long wait! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you like this! It gave me big thirst lmaooo

Lucifer

Mmmm you smell of him in the morning. He positively oozes from your every pore. Rich and spicy, like amber and freshly turned earth.

Good. Let it be known to all that you were claimed. Thoroughly.

He put his daily routine on hold for you this morning. He was weak to your pouting.

He’ll stay in bed for a little bit to indulge you. But duty calls and work waits for no demon

Neither of you really pay attention to how hard you are clinging to him when he tries to extract himself to get dressed

You both just kind of chalk it up to neither of you want to part

The day goes on as usual for him, meetings, paperwork, meetings, punishing Mammon, meetings

But the whole time something was nagging at him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He just felt like he forgot something important

But that’s impossible-

The wall explodes out behind him cutting Lucifer off mid-sentence. The rubble and great ball of flames miss him and Diavolo by mere inches only because of the latter’s quick reflexes. “Are you alright my friend?” Diavolo asks golden eyes alight with surprise. Lucifer could feel the prince’s defensive magic prickling his skin in response to the pungent magic wafting out of the hole.

“Of course-” Lucifer steps back, straightening his jacket’s lapels, the near-miss ruffles his feathers. Both men step closer to the hole. His hackles raise.  The power emanating from the crater was far too familiar. Someone dares to use his magical signatures without permission.  Snarling into the abyss he marches forward. He ignores Diavolo’s calls to wait and strides through the hole. His wings flare up from his back along with his temper. He walks through each wave of magic that washes over him. With each destroyed wall he steps through more and more of his demonic form comes forth till he is more beast than man. Strolling through the final hole he stops. His red eyes sweep across the scene in front of him. As the seconds' tick by his mood morphs from rage to shock, then to a sense of blinding pride.  

“Well-” He crosses his arms and smirks. He turns his gaze to the epicenter of the damage.

“Luci, I am so so sorry.” You mutter aghast behind your fingers. “I-I don’t know what happened.” You were never the best student in any of the practical classes. The teachers made exceptions for you and your lack of magical prowess. In this class, the teacher always paired you up with Solomon or Luke so they could help you prepare the necessary spells and runes. But you felt so different today, stronger and sharper. Damn near unstoppable even. Just the thought of someone else doing your work made something deep inside you seethe. You didn’t need help, you’ve seen and heard the incantations a thousand times before- it wouldn’t hurt to try…Well, let’s rephrase that, it didn’t hurt you to try.

The classroom was totaled. Dust, rubble, and burning pages all float around you like a post-apocalyptic snowstorm. Soot from your uncontrolled spell blacked your clothes and skin, next to you Solomon stands rigid in shock white brows disappearing into his hairline. Quietly you lick your thumb and forefinger and put out the small blue flame singeing his bangs. “Thanks.” He spits out around a mouthful of ash and grit.

Lucifer coughs to draw all eyes back to him. He takes inventory of the room, making sure all the other students scattered about were still breathing. Satisfied he beckons to you with a finger. “Come.” You jump into motion, scrambling up and over the rubble to grab his outstretched hand.

“Lucifer.” He cuts you off.

“Not here,” He smiles warmly rubbing at some soot staining the tip of your nose. “Come let’s get you cleaned up.”

_____________

“Should I be worried?” You ask, stepping out of Lucifer’s private showers wrapped in one of his sinfully soft towels. “I’m not going to blow stuff up on a whim now, right?” You plop down on his bedroom’s couch. Lucifer hums noncommittally by his liquor cabinet.

“I doubt it. How do you feel?” He takes a seat beside you handing you a glass and grabbing your legs to drape them over his. You take a swig from the glass, the heat of the liquor getting rid of the lingering shock from class. How did you feel?

Your bones hum with some unknown energy and there was a fire coursing through your veins. “I feel like I could take on the world. Like I dominate half of the Devildom.” Lucifer’s smile was nothing short of smug.

“Good.” He sips his drink.

“Good?” You lean forward expectantly.

Lucifer strokes your cheek coming in to inhale your fresh scent. The commingling of his and your own was beyond arousing. “There is more than one way to seal and strengthen a pact, my beloved.” He pulls you into a chastened kiss, feeling your cheeks heat with a dawning realization of what he meant. “You have now given yourself to me in both body and soul. The- bonus perks were inevitable.” He parts from you, reaching for his glass.

“Will it go away?” You honestly didn’t know if you could handle any more curveballs down here.

Lucifer laughs swirling the dredges of his drink before downing it in one go. “Ideally no- but over time if it isn’t reinforced it will weaken and disappear on its own.”

“Reinforced?” The heat of your drink seems to dip lower down your body. Your demon scoffs giving you a knowing look.

He drags you onto his lap. “Are you truly satisfied with just a night with me αγαπούλα μου?” A gloved finger tugs at the hem of your towel. “If I had my way I would keep you full and drunk on my power for all eternity.” He captures you in a searing kiss draping you over the cushions of his couch, his eyes turning predatory. “Do not worry about the side effects.” He purrs caging you in. “We have all the time in the world to get you accustomed to them.”

Diavolo

He knew. This bitch knew before he ever got you in his bed-chamber. Just think of the entertainment value~

So when he sweeps you up into his quarters for the night day weekend, he just forgets to mention it to you

He is curious about how his magic will affect a human of celestial descent. Will it show up all at once? Or over a long period of time? He hopes that your blood doesn’t cancel out his claim on you

He watches you like a hawk for a while- and nothing…

Hmm. Perhaps it just didn’t take the first time? No matter, try-try-try again as the saying goes. He certainly doesn’t see you complaining

But as the week passes he slowly puts it on his backburner as his work begins to pile up again

You on the other hand are having a time. One day you are fine and dandy and the next you can read and write in languages you’ve never even heard of.

Then you started seeing some frankly crazy shit. Had the ghost at the house always been this active?

The last straw for you was accidentally freezing half of the house’s rose garden with a sneeze. To say you are panicked is an understatement

Frazzled you run to the only mage you could (kinda) trust

“It’s not funny!” You hiss frantically staring bewildered at your friend. Your look of panic just makes him laugh harder. “Stop seriously Solomon! Gods, what did I do?” You scrub at your face hard. If you made yet another freaking pact with a demon you were going to lose it. Seven idiots were enough for several lifetimes.

Solomon howls at this, drawing curious and rude looks from the surrounding tables of the tea house. You swat at his shoulder hissing like a cat. “Sorry- sorry” He hiccups. “Your turn of phrase was just so fitting.” He collects himself by taking a sip of his tea. “Tell me, what have you been doing of late?” He smirks around the rim of his cup.

You squint at him not getting it. His keen eyes drift down to land on the garden of purple and blue bruises littering your neck. You slap a hand over your hickeys. He smiles leaning over conspiratorially. “What’s it like to sleep with a God? The perks are amazing no?”  

You shook your head. “I-what perks?”

“Oh~ Loverboy didn’t warn you of certain side-effects?” The mage leans back in his chair. He was going to have a great time today. ___________

Unbelievable. You march up the walkway to the palace, your mind absolutely reeling. Did he know about this? Of course, he did-how could he not! Did he just forget? No- Diavolo was many things, smart, cunning, conniving, but never forgetful. You knew him well and knew he had to be on the lookout for “side effects” as Solomon put it.

Fine, two can play at this game.

“Ah! Mio Giglio! How are you?” Dia glances up from his mountainous amount of paperwork when you throw open his office door. He rises in one fluid motion to scoop you up in a tight hug. Now that you know what to look for, you hone into the way he holds you. His large hands run down your back and sides possessively, he clings to you rubbing his bulking frame on you like a cat marking you. He leans in close to rub the bridge of his strong nose up and down your clavicle and neck. You feel his hot breath on your skin when he exhales. How had you not noticed this?

“Good, and you?” You smile into the fabric of his shirt. Carefully you wrap your arms around his solid waist. You hug him lightly so as to not give away your little surprise.

“Better with you here.” He chuckles stepping back to return to his desk. You follow closely behind waiting for the perfect time to strike. “What have you been up to?” He asks innocently, going to sit back down. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

You hum nonchalantly coming up behind him to rub at his tense shoulders. “Nothing much.” He nods closing his eyes as your fingers dig into sore muscles. “Usual school week, made some new friends...Went shopping with Asmo and Luke this morning. Bought you some treats, hidden from Barbatos of course.” You drop a quick peck on his cheek. Diavolo smiles sinking lower into his chair. He hopped it was something with lemon or orange, they were in season now. Barbatos had been on the warpath with his sugar and carb intake of late. “Then I had tea with Solomon and he filled me in on some very interesting facts.” You kiss his hairline.

“Mmmm?”

You pull away from his warmth to come around to straddle his lap while he is distracted. He jerks at your sudden weight on his lap but relaxes almost immediately. He opens a golden eye, not even realizing he had closed them. Your demeanor shifts when his gaze is fully set on you, all sweet innocence gone. A cheshire grin spreads across your face. “Funny you should ask if I’m feeling ok. I have been feeling a bit off of late.”

Diavolo tenses. “Are you well?” He tries to reach for you, his arms coming off the armrests of his desk chair. You strike like a viper, your small hands wrap and lock around his thick wrists pinning them to the chair. His eyes bulge in shock. You watch coyly as his biceps bulge under his clothes. He tries to break free for a few minutes before settling back. “I see-”

Leaning in you brush your lips across his ears, heart racing with excitement. “You forgot to mention quite a few things, Dia.” The low purr he emits shakes both of you.

“My apologies.” He admits. “You know I love a good show. Shame I missed it.” He throws you a rogue smile. “Forgive me?”

You slide closer until you rested chest to chest, legs wrapping around his to pin him down further. His purr drops down an octave. Locking eyes with him you remove a hand from his wrist daring him to move. He doesn’t. You move slowly and deliberately resting your hand on his strong neck. His reaction was instantaneous. His pupils dilate, and the gold of his irises turn molten. You start to feel his magic seep out, you match it, giddy with excitement that you could. “Only if you work for it.” You smirk.

Diavolo nods readily, licking at his dry lips in anticipation. He was more than ready to atone.

Satan

He is a good noodle and has the decency to tell you what will happen beforehand

It’s only polite to give you a heads up before he breaks your headboard

You both are curious about how it will affect you. He at least is excited to teach you some practical magic

Plus the idea of you pranking Lucifer with magic? Sublime.

He smells it blossoming under your skin while you sleep.

It’s sharp and minty with a smoky finish. Then the power hits him like a brick to the face. He is in awe.

It’s like an electrifying feedback loop that just energizes and excites him and you feel it too. He’ll lose himself in you and your body again, hyped up on the headiness of it all.

Once he has *cough* cleared his head *cough* he takes you out to try out your newly found powers. He has so many things he wants to teach you.

Satan kneels beside you nodding his head in approval at your chalk markings. Your lines weren’t exactly steady, he could see how your hand shook as you copied his paperwork but you followed it dutifully. He finds your nervousness adorable as if he would let anything bad happen to you. At his go-ahead, you get to your feet. Turning your palms down towards your summoning circle you recite your spell and watch in amazement as your runes glow bright green underneath you. In a flash of blinding lights and smoke, you sense the pull of the creature emerging from your rune work. Delighted you look down at your handy work.

“Congratulations my darling, exceptionally done.” He grins proudly from his perch by his bookshelf.

You bend down and pick up the little critter. “What is it?” It looked like a blob of flan but firmer. Its squishy form shivers in your palm when you poked it. Its body giving way under your gentle poke. It was dark green but lightened to an electric green at its base. It was surprisingly warm.

You feel Satan coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “It looks to be a lesser familiar, not bad for your first time summoning ever.” The jelly wiggles at his praise even though you couldn’t find any discernible features on its smooth little body. You turn it this way and that in your hand, even though it didn’t have eyes you could sense it was sizing you up to.

“What can it do?” You raise a brow at your companion. His arms circle your waist, his grin turning mischievous.

“Let's find out.”

________

Your lungs burn, each breath coming hard and sharp while you run. The sound of your pounding feet was swallowed up by the rush of foot traffic around you. Satan drags you behind him ushering you both around the throng of students. “Quickly!” He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a brilliant smile. “The further away from his office we are the less likely he could blame us.”

You laugh breathlessly along with him.

________

“What Belphie say?” You lean onto Satan’s shoulder to peek at his phone. The two of you sit, crowding in on each other's space underneath a desk in one of the unused classrooms.

“It’s glorious. Everything is covered. He says it looks like magic won’t remove it either!” He cackles showing you his screen. Belphie sent him a selfie. He is grinning devilishly from ear to ear throwing you both a peace sign through the screen. In the background, you could clearly see a very irate Lucifer. His face was red with fury and his clothes covered in green goo. His office was wrecked. Your little jelly did a number on it, you hadn’t expected it to expand as large as it did. Your familiar popping on the edge of Lucifer’s desk wasn’t intended either, but totally worth it. “Think you can summon another?” Satan asks, darkening his screen. You shake your head, whatever power you had earlier today had been drained after your little stunt.

Satan nods in understanding. “Shame- imagine what one of your jellies could do to Diavolo’s office.”

“Satan-”

He chuckles wrapping an arm around your back. He plants a loud kiss onto your forehead. “Alright-alright. Perhaps after a bit of a rest and recharge?”

You poke his leg playfully and laugh. “If you wanted to have sex again you could just ask.”  

He dips low and kisses you. “Well then- if you are up for another round of delinquency…”

Beelzebub

Sweet baby didn’t know-

Well, he knew about it. Lucifer had given everyone “the talk” about it a couple of millennia ago.

He never really thought about it before you because he didn’t sleep with humans often (Him so big, human so smol if he isn’t paying attention it could be...bad)

So when you drag him into your room he just doesn’t think about it. You are both so oblivious

He doesn’t think about the shift in your scent, your kisses were just as sweet as always. If there was a peppery aftertaste to your kiss he chalks it up to something you had for breakfast

He doesn’t think anything of it when you practically drag him from your bed to shower together before school

He doesn’t think about it when at lunch your appetite starts to rival his

He starts to think about it during P.E. when your dodge ball puts a demon down for the rest of class

He definitely notices when you pin him down to steal his sandwich during your picnic date

Now he’s freaking out, whether it's because you are showing inhuman strength or the fact that you stole his food who knows

You nab yet another one of his sandwiches and start munching away with a hum of happiness. “Hey, babe.” He rumbles beneath you. “You feeling alright?” He wraps his large hands around your waist. Your weight was warm and comfortable over his prone form. He had whisked you away for an afternoon picnic, something to spend more time with you alone. After last night he craved being around you more than anything. He had packed enough food for him in mind. But it looks like it wouldn’t be enough. Odd. Beel rests his head back on the thick blanket protecting you both from the slightly damp grass underneath.

“Hmm?” You swallow down a mouthful of ruben. “Yeah! Famished though.” You lean back on his strong hip and swipe your finger around your mouth to brush off some crumbs. You reach for the other half of his sandwich to devour but pauses when you catch Beel’s kicked puppy look. With a huff of amusement, you offer the other half to him letting him chomp down with a fanged smile in thanks.

He chews in silence, watching you pick up a bowl of fresh fruit. Hmmm… He runs his rough palms up and down your thighs and hips ignoring your squirming and giggles when he runs over the thin skin of your sides. He squeezes you lightly. Huh- Your muscles were firmer than this morning, now that he was looking closer he could see that your frame was a bit sturdier too. Still his perfectly lovable and squishy human but more solid around the edges. In a last-ditch effort to figure out what has changed, he reaches out for his pact mark.

He jerks forward, upsetting your position on his lap, causing you to tumble backward, fruit flying everywhere. “Beel!” You shriek. He shushes you, squeezing your cheeks between warm hands.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” You repeat. “What dessert? I’m pretty sure the fruit was part of it...but I mean. If you want grassy cantaloupe it’s all yours.” You eye the remains of the seasonal fruit laying around you and then at the basket. You were pretty sure you saw some pastries at the bottom of it too.

“We had sex.” He blurts out bluntly, and quite loudly.

Your face heats. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” You push him off sitting up on your elbows. “Please, why don’t you yell it out for all the wildlife to hear too.”

Beelzebub shakes his head groaning. “No-I forgot to warn you about our pact.”

Ahh-oh. You eye him wearily. If he was stressing you were stressing, it wasn’t like him to get so bent out of shape. “Ok-is it, like bad?”  What were you going to die? That would be a big thing to just forget. “How about you fill me in big guy.” You listen enraptured while he jerkily explains how you have strengthened your bond exponentially without even realizing it. Magic, super strength, the appetite, all because you jumped his bones.

Nice.

It sounded so cool- but then overwhelming all at the same time. Was it permanent? What if you lost control and actually hurt someone for real.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it-I just. You felt so good.” He wilts. “I should have been more careful- this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Beel-”

“I swear.” He bulldozes over you. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

You cut him off, combing your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I believe you, Beel.” You smile reassuringly. “It’s not like it’s gonna hurt me...right?”  He thinks about it for a minute then grunts, shaking his head. You grin brighter stretching out your arms. “And I get some cool powers right?”

He nods again. “For a bit yes.”

You get up off the ground excitedly. “Right then! You’ll show me the ropes right? I’ve never done anything magical before!” You look at your palms as if fire or sparks were going to fly out of them. Beel rises to his feet too.

“You sure? I doubt I will be as good of a mentor as Lucifer or even Belphie.” He looks around the large grove of trees and sprawling grassy acreage around you both. You both were far away from the populated areas of the mountain pass and town. He could practice with you freely and without worrying about damaging anything important. “Not the date I promised, but if you really want me to show you some stuff…” He offers you a shy smile. He did have a few cool tricks he could show you. You nod already rolling up your sleeves. Well- if this was what you really wanted then he would be glad to show you.  

[bouncingkadachi]

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts. 

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.” 

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street. 

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?” 

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision. 

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere. 

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.” 

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

 “Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

[hoe-doroki]

passing the night stars

banner by @dymphnasprose​

warning: reader has social anxiety

pairing: shinsou x reader (platonic or romantic)

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

summary: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

a/n: this is a gift for my SiL’s birthday today! To any astronomy nerds: I tried and I’m sorry.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something to be said about distance.

It was a buffer, quieting every voice, external and internal, until the only one left was that of the crickets singing over the lo-fi spilling out of the house behind you. You’d stepped away from the party long enough ago that the playlist had started over many songs back—you had no clue how many anymore. The distance turned the music’s thrumming into a quiet melody, the lyrics just as indistinguishable up close as here in the backyard, sitting on patio furniture that rocked lopsidedly in the grass.

Any filter would do, though. Anything that could soften the world just a little around its loud, coarse edges. The ice in your peach-flavored hurricane melting so that the drink was a little less saccharine. The rum casting a film over your mood, keeping your loneliness from dropping you into total dolor. The slight late-night breeze blowing the smoke from the fire pit away from you so that the acrid smell was stronger on the hood of your black sweatshirt than the air. It all muddled your emotions, numbing the buzzing overwhelm of the party to an anxious hum. The party had been neon, and out here you had a bit more darkness.

Without these buffers absorbing some of the furor, you might have escaped the party hours ago. Snuck out while the thing was still in full thrall, before social anxiety could hiss over your bones. Got out while you were ahead. Instead, you’d lasted as long as you could before out to the backyard with the near-dead fire, wracked with guilt at the prospect of leaving without saying goodbye, while too nervous to actually draw the attention to yourself necessary to actually say goodbye.

That wasn’t to say you hadn’t held up for a good while, though. You’d hung out with your friends when the fire had just gotten started and then when the party had moved indoors for drinking games and edibles. You’d hovered on the border as your friends grew more interested in dancing in drunken delay to the somniferous lo-fi beat than conversation. Then the itching had started in your brain, and before you knew it, you were out here, social battery drained dry, waiting for an indefinite future in which you could find the energy to escape.

You shivered as footsteps swiped through the grass, crickets chirping at the intruder.

“Did I surprise you?” Shinsou asked, his voice deep from booze or smoke or both. Or, maybe he was just tired, you figured, as the harsh light of the fire sharpened the bags under his eyes into dark creases.

“Breeze,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising on your wrists, standing the fine hairs on end. Only a few licks of heat from the pit were touching your knees, leaving the rest of you cold in your threadbare sweatshirt as the fire shrank smaller and smaller.

Shinsou had a blanket in his arms, ratty and certainly stolen from the back of the living room couch. He blinked at you for a second before he asked, “Can I join you?”

His voice was deadpan. Between the two of you, there was no real vocal inflection to speak of. Still, you shrugged one shoulder and said, “Sure.”

You stiffened when, instead of choosing one of the many other patio chairs or foldable camping chairs forming a friendly circle around the fire, he joined you on your bench, tossing a bit of blanket over your knees. You hardly realized you were staring at him until he said, “You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah, a little,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and curling the scrap of blanket around your arms.

The blanket was raggedy in your hands, pilled on the hem, but warm from being indoors with all the dancing bodies. Plus, clinging onto it, running your thumb over the uneven texture gave you something to focus on instead of Shinsou’s body so close to yours.

Your senses were tingling, raw at having someone nearby again. It was too soon—you still didn’t have anything to say, no defense for why you’d dropped off from the party without a word.

But, on the other hand, being alone wasn’t fixing you either. Parts of your brain were still coiled taut as compression springs, and while they weren’t getting any tighter, they weren’t quite loosening yet either. It was rest, not recovery.

Abruptly—was it abrupt, or were you that zoned out?—Shinsou touched the back of his hand to yours, nearly making you flinch as he furrowed his brows at you. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, shifting towards you and pushing more of the blanket into your lap.

“Oh, um—” maybe a half an hour, maybe more, “—not that long.”

For that flash of contact, his skin had been hot against yours, so you could only imagine how cold your hands had felt to him. Your icy drink was probably mostly to blame, but you were also suddenly aware of how your shoulders were hunched nearly to your ears, your arms clenched to your sides like your chest might warm them. You piled the blanket a little more over your knees and one shoulder, only the hand holding your drink poking out.

“Hard being on the fringes,” he mused as he took a sip from a can. Possibly seltzer, probably beer.

You mirrored, tasting your own drink. It was really mostly water by now, though you were sure it was still painting your tongue orange.

Shinsou’s situation wasn’t much different than yours. Everyone in that house was old classmates. Shinsou was too, but he’d come late. Not too late to be friends, but late enough that it mattered. You were even later—not a classmate, but a post-high school roommate. You’d both landed on the side of Kaminari’s friend group, but neither of you were the core of it. The heart of it. That, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, was Bakugou.

For some reason, you and Shinsou had never talked about this before.

“Hard being in a group big enough for there to be a fringe.”

Because, of course, it wasn’t just the Bakusquad here today. The majority of the old 3-A was here, those who weren’t on duty or suffering with early morning duty tomorrow. Enough people to certainly cause a ruckus and maybe a noise complaint that even pro heroes wouldn’t get out of.

“Touché”

The two of you fell into silence, and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had drawn Shinsou from the party. Even if he didn’t feel he was the most popular guy in the room, you’d seen the way he had the ability to talk to everyone. You weren’t sure if it was a product of his quirk or what, but he was able to start a conversation with everyone he met. He didn’t seem shy or anxious in the least.

Then again, that was just what he presented. You knew from that what you put forth in public wasn’t necessarily in line with what you were feeling.

It was hard to be the introvert around a group like yours. Worse—it was noticeable. This wasn’t the first time you’d stumbled away from a party, mind half gone not on alcohol or weed but on the sudden assault of attention, loud voices, and talk of hero work. Being one of the only non-heroes in the room was exhausting, and maybe that’s why you’d had to escape. Or maybe there never was a reason, good or otherwise, and you were just here because of your stupid self.

“Clear night,” Shinsou commented, “Don’t get to see much of the stars in the city.”

You looked up, a bright spot in the center of your vision from where you’d been staring into the fire. Almost everyone in your group lived in the city, not too far from each other, depending on your definition of the word. But those with quirks better suited outside the city, like Tsuyu and Koda, had moved out of town post graduation, granting the rest of you access to a night in the suburbs like this.

The truth was, you hardly looked up at the sky in the city. Tourists were always looking up, eyes glinting off the skyscrapers and billboards. But natives were always looking down, too aware of the fact that other natives didn’t always clean up after their dogs and, with so little grass, the sidewalk often needed a close eye kept to it.

But here, it was pretty. Not the smog-stained brown you were used to, but deep blue and twinkling with infinite pinpricks.

“Mm,” you hummed, taking another sip of your watery drink. “You’re right.”

“There’s Cassiopeia,” he said, pointing just over the tree line.

You followed his finger, unsure quite of what you were looking at. The stars hardly looked like clusters to you, especially on a night like this where you could see so many. It was more a broad network of them, either all connected or all individual. All the stars or just a star.

“You know constellations?” you asked, ears latching onto something that finally wasn’t hero related. Truth be told, you probably knew less about stars than you did about hero work but it was less alienating. You could lean into it.

“Some,” he offered. “Cassiopeia is a basic one.”

“Where is it?”

Shinsou glanced at you, leaning in closer so that his finger could match your gaze. You shoulders knocked and you could feel his wild hair against your own. His finger traced down and up, down and up in a cockeyed W. “Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.”

“She’s a woman?”

It was any wonder that ancient people had looked into the night sky and seen things like rams and bulls, creating a whole woman out of a few diagonal lines. Still, you listened to Shinsou, his low voice rumbling into your tired bones as he began.

“A beautiful woman,” he answered. “In Greek myth, she thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her boastfulness made Poseidon angry, so he created a sea monster that Andromeda was sacrificed to. Andromeda was left to await her fate when Perseus, who had just killed Medusa, used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. After saving Andromeda, the two of them got married, and when they died, they both became constellations alongside Cassiopeia.”

Shinsou’s voice was husky and even as he told the story. The cadences were easy drops, landing you softly before he started up again with his next thought. It was a voice you could be rocked by, a voice you could be held by.

“Do you know where they are too?”

“Just below,” Shinsou said. “Probably come up just in time for the sun to make them invisible.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, curling deeper into the blanket, curling so that on shoulder leaned more onto the bench than the other. You head was almost resting on Shinsou’s shoulder and you could feel his warmth radiating in the cold night. “How do you know all this?”

Shinsou was quiet for a second and your nerves spiked again. You hadn’t even felt them relax, but suddenly your anxiety was scratching again, wondering if you’d misspoke. Or maybe you’d whispered it and he just hadn’t heard you? Before you could decide whether to say it again or apologize, though, he let out a sigh that jostled the blanket.

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” he said by way of explanation.

You cocked your head. Perhaps it was just a good hobby for an insomniac, but you were unsure about the evasiveness. “Did you have to learn a lot for general studies? Or to get in to U.A.?”

“…Yeah.”

You could only imagine. U.A. was an incredibly competitive school for heroes, but that was a specialized course. For general studies you didn’t need to have the physical prowess or the other particular skills that came with heroics, but you had to be an ace in school. It was no small feat to get into general studies, especially while you were trying to pursue something else. You were satisfied with that, ready to let it go and return to the near silence of the crickets and the fire popping, when Shinsou suddenly continued.

“When it looked like my plans to become a hero wouldn’t pan out,” Shinsou began, his words slow, tired, “my parents encouraged me into any and all other interests. None stuck.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the personal admission taking you aback.

For all the times you’d seen Shinsou talk effortlessly with people in a room, you weren’t sure how personal or vulnerable you’d ever seen him. He seemed comfortable enough probing other people, but this was new. It made the space between you suddenly seem private—so different from the party you’d escaped from. You could still hear the ambient noises of a couple dozen people in there having a good time, but it was suddenly a world away.

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” you said, brows furrowing as you glanced his eyes, still gazing up at the stars. His parents had probably thought they were being supportive, but it wasn’t the support he’d desired.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It worked out in the end.”

There was the smallest smile on his face at that, barely betraying what must have been true joy at having a dream slip through his fingers only to fly back to him. And he’d earned every bit of it, even if he wanted to keep it to himself.

“So now,” you began softly, “you just have a lot of little things that you can offer people. The little things you could have been. That’s not so bad, right?”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed. “I always liked that story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Japanese astronomy varies so much from region to region and is usually about more functional things. Harvest, seasons. But these other myths about people with no chance of being heroes becoming ones anyway…”

He trailed off, but the sentiment was there. Trapped in the things he’d done to try and leave heroism behind were little vestiges. The inescapable fact that he was meant to be a hero and would be one anyway, even if the world told him he was a villain, doomed for failure.

The stories had been true.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, surprising you.

“Feeling better?”

“You’d been out here for over an hour,” Shinsou stated. “Your eyes were glassy and distant and you were freezing and you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh,” you intoned. You hadn’t realized it had been that long. You were sure it had only been half that time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said truthfully. “I’m fine now.”

The anxiety from earlier that had been buzzing through you had kept you awake, all while thoroughly draining you. You’d hardly realized just how much until now, with your body not just feeling settled but heavy. The stress had run straight through you, and now you bore the fatigue.

Shinsou glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. His brows raised and it lifted his whole face, making the dark circles under his eyes just a little less stark. “You look exhausted.”

“You always look exhausted,” you retorted, your first little grin curving along your lips.

In his surprise, Shinsou smiled too. “I know that. Here.”

Shinsou took your forgotten drink from your hand and set it down, then patted his shoulder.

“You should rest for a little while.”

Your eyes met his, searching for anything that looked like obligation or impatience. But there was none. Just a surprising amount of openness and a pretty shade of purple.

“Do you have more myths?”

Shinsou smiled and, once again, his gaze went up to the stars. As he started another tale, you snuggled onto his shoulder, the rest of your body drawing closer to his as well. He didn’t wait long to begin speaking, talking in more detail than he had before. There was no reason to be concerned that he might be boring you, or that you didn’t want to hear it. Really, these stories, these stars that had brought him even the tiniest speck of light were just what you needed too.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, and you weren’t sure when you woke up. But when you blinked your eyes awake, the first thing you noticed was that Cassiopeia hadn’t moved far. The second was the feeling of Shinsou’s head tilted against yours, his breath like gentle waves under you.

You shifted, signaling that you were awake, and Shinsou did too, his head lifting from yours. At some point, his arm had wrapped around you, encasing you in his warmth. He didn’t move it, not yet, as your body creaked and you forced yourself to sit up.

“How long?” you murmured, voice barely raspy with sleep.

“Not that long,” Shinsou answered, echoing your reply from earlier.

He didn’t look at his phone or a watch, and hadn’t since he’d come out, so you wondered if he had any clue. Or if it simply hadn’t felt long. Somehow, the idea that his time spent with you hadn’t felt long was a comfort, a relief.

“How are you feeling?”

You checked in, feeling that grogginess that always came in the wake of an intense mental episode. Your brain struggling to catch up and survey the backlash from its earlier antics. That would go away. It always did. “I’m good.”

Shinsou continued to look at you, switching between each eye, double checking your expression for any lie. But he must not have found any, for he leaned back into the bench and relaxed, that tiny ghost of a smile back on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, gazing out again. “You out here alone before? It had been…well, we were…I wanted to check on you.”

For the first time, Shinsou looked almost a little shy, and you couldn’t help but smile, touched. You put a hand on the shoulder that had just taken your weight and brought his gaze back to you. “Thank you.”

There actually was one thing you knew about stars. You’d heard that every light year a star was away from you was a year into the past you were seeing its light. Looking at the stars was looking millions of years into the past. Despite the fact that these selfsame stars connected you to humans around the world today and those of old, that filter of distance and time rendered them ancient, if not already gone.

But as you looked at Shinsou, their soft, silvery starlight illuminating one side while the last dancing coals of the fire glowed on the other, you were sure that this was the opposite. This wasn’t old or past or known to anyone but the two of you. This wasn’t the stars or even the stories inspired by them.

This was just beginning.

[amyscascadingtabs]

don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you [chapter 2]

CHAPTER TWO: see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night

excerpt below, read whole thing on ao3

Amy doesn't return to the office until after she's spent a good hour at home. First, she showers, washing off yesterday's old makeup and grime and letting the warm water run over her shoulders as she lets the sweet scent of raspberry shower gel replace the vague smell of old beer and sweat. Her back is sore; probably thanks to Jake's lumpy mattress, she thinks, and wonders for a second if she should add buy new mattress to the contract before deciding it’s far too much. That's relationship stuff, and that's point one of the contract; that's not what this is.

She blow-dries her hair and replaces her makeup, taking extra care to try and cover a pink mark that sits just a little too high on her chest before giving up and picking a different shirt instead. Then she fills the biggest coffee cup she has, eats a buttered slice of toast standing up, and feeds her pet fish before rushing back out the door.

She probably looks fresher than most days once she's done, but she's still worried Gina can sense something from her secretary desk as Amy walks in. She raises a brow in greeting like she's actually interested, which is rare in itself, and Amy can feel her eyes on her as she walks into her own office and closes the door behind her.

Amy starts regretting her decision as soon as she's opened a new document. What is she even supposed to name it? Friends with benefits contract is too obvious. FWB-C sounds like code for something. Sex agreement makes her sound like someone who’s read Fifty Shades Of Grey too many times (which really is just once). Jake and Amy is a wedding invitation, Rules too general. She puts her head in her hands, staring at the blinking line, and groans. Then she writes in Jake, looks at that for a moment, and adds stuff after. Not her proudest, but it'll have to do.

Amy’s relieved she doesn't have much work to do today, because she spends every free minute she can come across tweaking details on the document, adding and removing sections to suggest. When she's finally happy with the result, she saves it in a personal folder she can be sure no one’s ever going to open, and praises the office-gods for the fact that she has her own printer.

~

There’s a faint smell of artificial lemon in the air of Jake’s apartment as he welcomes her in, and the thought that he might have cleaned for her makes Amy blush. It seems unlike him, but the living room area does appear less cluttered to her than it did this morning, so maybe he isn’t totally incapable of it. She still doesn’t want to check his cabinets.

“You cleaned,” she says instead, nodding to the couch that looks almost neat now. “You expecting to get lucky tonight, or something?” Jake’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, but then he shakes his head and points to her outfit. “You’re one to speak.”

All Amy’s done is put on a maroon floral blouse with lower cleavage than she’d ever do for work and put on a touch of pink lipstick, but he’s not completely wrong. She still chooses to ignore him. “I’ve got the contract. Should we do this, then?”

He offers her an orange soda, which she declines, but accepts a mug of Earl Grey tea from a package that seems to have remained unopened since before the brand last changed its design. A hot drink might calm her nerves, she hopes, but it ends up being quite the distracting experience to watch him make it for her. She tries to read through the contract one last time while searching for spelling errors she knows aren't there, her eyes keep being drawn to his hands as he holds the label of the teabag between his thumb and index finger, bobbing the bag a few times with focus once he's finished pouring the water into a New York Knicks mug. It's hard not to think about how those fingers felt dancing across her skin yesterday, massaging the sides of her breasts and holding on to her inner thighs, and it's harder not to imagine what they'd feel like another time –

“Tea,” he interrupts her thoughts by placing the mug in front of her. “Thought maybe you wanted a cup that didn’t say NYPD on it.”

“Well, you're right in that.” She brings it to her lips, almost burning her tongue and hoping he didn't see. “You want to read it on your own, or should I read it to you?”

Jake sits back in the massage chair closest to her, spreading his legs and putting his palms on them before shooting her that disarming smile again. “You read it.”

Amy swallows hard. “Okay. Section one: relationship status. This arrangement only works if we're both single. We’re not bringing more people into this.”

“What about an open relationship?”

“No. Still complicated. This is complicated enough with just us. If either of us gets in an actual relationship, it's over.”

Jake nods. “Cool. Next rule?”

“Section two: appropriate behavior. We're not dating,” she says, pointing first at herself and then at him with the ballpoint pen she brought from work. “So we can't behave like we're dating. Outside of our apartments, we're strictly friends. Or acquaintances. Honestly, it's weird we're even friends.”

“But you admitted we're friends.”

“Sure.” She takes another sip of the tea. “But that means no public flirting, no inappropriate comments, no like, commenting heart or fire emojis on Instagram pictures –”

“Are these rules for you or for me?” Jake winks. “I know my selfies are stunning, but I’m sure you can control yourself.”

“For both of us. Section three: we part in the morning. No exceptions. Staying overnight is okay, but once we wake up, we’re done.”

“What counts as morning in this scenario? I’m not going to have to get up at six a.m., am I?”

“Not unless you stay at my place when I have work.”

“I’ll remember not to do that, then.”

“Great. Section four – protection.”

“You have an entire section on that?” Jake looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“It’s important!” She exclaims, feeling herself getting defensive. “I have an implant, so we’re safe from pregnancy, but it’s either condoms or you need to get checked.”

Jake nearly spits out some of his orange soda, coughing slightly. “You must be fun at parties.”

“I’m actually a nationally accredited and registered chaperone.”

“What is that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Are you going to do it or not?”

“Fine. You, then?”

“I will if you want me to.” Amy shrugs. “But I haven’t slept with anyone since my ex, so we should be good.”

Jake’s eyebrows fly up. “Really?”

“That so surprising to you?”

“A little? In the least jerk-ish way possible, you must get, well… offers.”

“People don’t flirt a whole lot with their lawyers,” she says, shifting in her chair and crossing her legs. “And it hasn’t been my focus. Are we good with the contract?”

“Actually, I want to add one more rule.”

“Yeah?”

Jake leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and flexing his biceps through the green shirt with a smug grin. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

Amy looks at him for a moment, trying to determine whether or not he’s joking, but he doesn’t waver, so she leans forward and draws a fifth section sign on the blank space left on the document. No developing feelings or this ends, she prints out in capital letters, signing her name on the allotted line.

“Won’t be a problem.”

Jake signs the contract, and Amy tries not to grimace at how messy his signature is as she places the document in a thin plastic folder, promising him a copy tomorrow.

“Cool,” Jake nods. He’s messing up his curls with his right hand again, the way she’s noticed he does when he’s trying to flirt. She wonders if it’s strategy or nerves. “So, are you doing anything else tonight, or...”

“What, contract signing’s got you all hot and bothered?”

“I mean, seeing you in full lawyer mode. It’s not, not hot.”

“Double negation?” Amy scrunches her nose. “Oh, you’re going to have to make that one up to me.”

“Maybe I will,” he says, and she needs only to notice the way his eyes darken to know that it’s on.

Amy can feel her legs still shaking a little as she hails a cab outside Jake's apartment just after, and she closes her eyes in the backseat and wonders how it's possible to feel this amazing, this satisfied from a cocktail of what she knows is mostly dopamine and oxytocin. It still makes her feel all giggly, like she can't stop smiling to herself.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she picks it up to read a text from Jake.

Fucking hell that was SO GOOD.

Maybe this friends with benefits thing won't be so bad after all.

~

[miss-bakukiri]

A good nights rest

18+ | Aged up Bakugou x Fem reader | Slight degradation

y/n = Your Name

2150 words This is a bit of fluff story that builds up into smut scene. So if your looking for pure smut (lemon) that’s not what this is. I hope you enjoy it. Its my first short story. Let me know if you want a prologue or part 2! ---- As a rule you don’t let your hookups spend the night. It can send the wrong message that you are interested in something more than fulfilling a need. But then again Bakugou always does what he wants and you have broken your rules just by letting him come see you on a regular biases. Just for sex though, you don’t have time for anyone needy. Which is why Bakugou was the perfect hook-up, he didn't have time for that either. You watch him snooze in your bed, considering waking him up for another round. You decide against that knowing the pro hero needed his sleep. Instead you direct your attention to the gauntlets he left by your door.

Today he had showed up at your door in full gear, smoke still steaming off of him from a recent encounter that had apparently been very close to your apartment. You were a support engineer and his gear had intrigued you from the beginning. They looked cool but you thought you could make some improvements. So you grab one and head down to your workshop, knowing full well you might get in trouble later.

You worked freelance to keep your creative freedom so you had everything you need just below your apartment. Hours pass in a blur and suddenly big arms encircle you. “What the fuck do you think you are doing Y/n” Bakugou growls in your ear from behind, sending a shiver down your body.

Acting perfectly calm you turn to face him and say matter of factually “Making you more badass”. He scoffs and replies sounding a bit annoyed but intrigued “oh ya? How so?”

A sly smile spreads across your face, you were not in trouble... yet. “Did you know the sweat in your palms isn’t pure nitro?” You ask in a way that was obvious you already knew he didn’t know.

Bakugou starts to ask you how you knew that but then stops himself knowing that at any point you could have gotten a sample from him while he was asleep.

You explain that you created a way to concentrate his sweat into pure nitroglycerin and the rest evaporates through a vent. This allowed you to design a much less bulky gauntlet. Instead of looking like one big grenade your CAD drawing looked more like packs of explosives strapped on his arm. “Each one holds quite a powerful concentrated amount of your nitro. It’s smaller but holds almost twice the power. So less bulky and more efficient!” you explain.

Bakugou evaluates your design, showing no sign of being pleased or pissed until he finally says “Okay. Make it” You squee out loud in excitement. “I’ve rigged my shop to start the machining process automatically so I just have to hit start for now and check on it again in a few hours”

Looking you up and down Bakugou asks “you sleep at all?” and you just look away not saying anything. “It’s 4am, you should get a few hours in” he says sternly.

You miss a lot of sleep and meals when you get into a project. Laser focused on perfecting the task in front of you. Bakugou has forced you to eat and sleep in the past, claiming that he needed his favorite toy charged up for him next time. He fusses a lot more than you would have guessed considering he is ranked at #1 least friendly of new Pro Heros.

Sensing your incoming protest Bakugou picks you up princess style and carries you upstairs. You squirm and resist his firm grip, knowing it’s useless against his strength. “HEY! if you don't sit still I’ll throw you over my shoulders like a sack” You knew all too well that wasn't a bluff and spitefully obeyed him. Bakugou lays you down somewhat gently in the bed and holds you to his chest. “Go to sleep” he commands. You can’t help at giggle at the fact that he’s being so nurturing to a hook up."Oi, what the hell are you giggling at?” he asks in an obviously annoyed tone. “I know you just wanted me rested for a good fuck later but i can take care of myself. No need to pretend you give a damn.” you reply flatly while tracing your fingers over his firm chest. Suddenly he shoves you back and takes you by the jaw so you are forced to look him in the eyes. Leaning slightly over you with his deadly eyes fixed on yours he growls “You are the dumbest smart person I have ever met. I mean really how is it possible you are this dense”

Confusion and anger sweeps over you. Bakugou was really angry right now. More angry than he has ever been around you. “I am not DUMB” you yell back defensively. “Oh ya then answer this question, what the fuck about my personality says I would stick around and look after someone I don't give a damn about” he yells. And it dawned on you. Bakugou isn’t the type to make sure someone that doesn’t matter to him eats regularly or sleeps enough. In fact at first he would just fuck you and leave. But he started sleeping over sometimes. You figured he was just tired from his work. I mean there is NO WAY Bakugou Katsuki would ever get attached to some random hookup. Right? But then why did he start cooking you breakfast in the mornings or check to make sure you were drinking enough water... How did you miss this? The whole reason you decided to keep this up is because you thought for sure there was no risk of this happening. You’re not the type to miss details... Bakugou loosened his grip on your face seeing that it was starting to hit you. He didn't rush you though. It was an uncharacteristic show of patience. You stared at him. You wanted him. And not just sexually. Somehow he has become comfortable in your life. Looking back over the last few weeks you realized you would even miss him when we was gone. A small joy would flutter in your heart when you heard him knock.. you had written this off excitement for getting laid.. you had been lying to yourself for weeks now. Finally you managed to say in a quite voice “You like me” A cocky and small grin spread on Bakugou’s face “About fucking time” he said as he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. This was a kiss Bakugou has never given you before. Usually his kisses were rough and passionate. You felt this kiss through your whole body and for the first time in a long time your felt vulnerable beneath someone. Pulling back from you Bakugou traced his thumb on you bottom lip and said “And you like me.” A small tear ran down your face. You had shut out so many emotional needs and just focused on work for so long. You hadn't wanted this but somehow Bakugou got through to you. That asshole. You take him into a deep and passionate kiss. This lights a fire in Bakugou and he returns your show of enthusiasm by pushing you forcefully against the bed and holding your wrists in his hands. He begins to kiss down your chest and nip at the tender flesh of your breasts. You let out small moans as he pulls your tank top down and reaches your nipples. He starts sucking and biting at your nipples with a dedicated enthusiasm. Your whole body feels hot and your back arches against his hold on you. His head drops down your stomach to between your thighs, finally releasing you from his grip. Your hands quickly grasp his hair as he kisses your clit through your wet panties. “That didn’t take much. You are soaked y/n” he says wickedly, making you whine. Bakugou bites your inner thigh and then licks it to sooth any pain. He is perfect at pushing your limits, knowing exactly how far to go. Little bite marks now line both of your thighs and you wiggle your hips begging for attention to be brought to your puffy clit. Sliding your soaked panties to the side he takes his finger and rubs your clit in small circles but its not enough so you attempt to grind against his fingers. He pulls back and says “Greedy fucking bitch” before suddenly shoving two fingers inside your tight pussy. The shock sending electricity up your body and for a moment he finger fucks you with the intensity you have been begging for before stopping. You let out a sad moan at the loss of your fullness. Before you can complain further he lowers his head to your clit and begins licking your clit forcefully. Again causing you to surge with sudden pleasure. You hear him moan in satisfaction. You knowing he is getting off on making you feel good. The vibrations from his moan hitting your clit in exquisite pleasure. He slides two fingers inside you again and finds that magic spot curving upward and hits it again and again. Each stroke sending you towards your climax. Knowing you are close he intensifies his tongue strokes and you release on his fingers, your tight walls clenching around him in orgasmic pulses. Before you can come down off your high he sits up and pulls out his dick, red and twitching from waiting so long. He strokes himself a few times to spread precum from his tip across his shaft, while marveling at how much of a mess you are from your orgasm. “You're so damn beautiful y/n” he says quietly as he inserts himself into you, filling you completely. Overstimulated from your recent organism his entering your body sends intense pleasure through you. Bakugou thrusts himself into you at a brutal pace, overwhelming your cunt. He holds your hips tight so he can be fully within you. Quickly you start to build up to your climax with each lightning thrust from Bakugou. Stopping just before your climax Bakugou pulls out and turns you over easily as of you weigh nothing, once again sliding into you as deep as he can from behind. He reaches his arm around you to hold you by the neck and pull your back up to his chest. Firmly choking you by pressing on the sides of your neck. You begin to feel your pleasure heighten as you melt in his arms completely. “Good girl” he whispers in your ear. You feel his hot breath on your neck and it sends shivers down your body. Using his other hand he begins to rub your clit “do you want to cum” he asks in a deep growl “ye.. yes” you chock out. “I’m not convinced. Beg me.” he commands in a whisper as he slows his thrusts. You cry at the loss of his momentum. “Please. I want to cum. Please Katsuki” you say desperately in your overstimulated and dumb state. At hearing his first name come from your lips for the first time katsuki goes over the edge, pumping wildly into you while rubbing your clit. “Cum for me. Cum like a good girl y/n” he says out of breath and almost on command you release and ride out your orgasm on him. It melts over you in waves and you moan as loudly as you can through his grip. Your walls tighten and spasm around his dick and send him into his own release, filling you with his hot cum. He gently lowers you onto the bed, again taking in the site of you and smiling in satisfaction at job well done. He knows no one could ever fuck you as good as he does. You love seeing this look of pride in his face when you’re done, because it means you did good too. Said the right things, begged in the right ways to make him go that level of crazy. Without saying a word he walks over and gets you a glass of water and a towel. He is always good at after care. After you both come down from your highs you look at him and ask “So can I call you Katsuki now?” he smirks and says “Duh, I am your boyfriend. You can call me what you want... except Kacchan or Blasty.” You feel your blush on your face at his words and you ask shyly “You’re my boyfriend now?” Looking at you  directly Katsiki replies “Ya, if you want me to be.” Blushing now even more red than before you answer “Yes. And I am your girlfriend” you say just barely holding his gaze. Not being able to handle how cute this all was you buried your face in his chest and the both of you drift into a much needed rest.

[ptergwen]

last christmas

w/c: 2.0k

warnings: a few descriptions of dizziness

summary: someone might be able to get you back into the holiday spirit

a/n: hi hi hi i’m really excited about this :,) i’ve had the idea for a while and i like where it’s going! it’s based it off of the movie last christmas and this is only part one, so if it feels a little slow that’s why AND on that note i hope you enjoy

━━━ *:･。.

“you’re late,” harry comments as the coat room door bursts open. he’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to announce it. you slip behind the counter while tying up your apron. “only ten minutes. besides, we’re never busy this early.” he presses his lips together and grabs a large cup.

that’s the face he makes whenever you say or do something stupid. you’ve learned a lot about harry in your year of working together. he’s a pretty laidback guy. funny, too. you’d consider him a friend and not just your coworker. the only time he isn’t chill is when your coffee shop has what you like to call its rush hour.

it’s in a pretty prominent area in london, and it gets packed every afternoon. people like to pop in for a muffin or some tea on their lunch break. with it being christmas time and all, the shop is way more chaotic than usual. the seasonal flavors clearly draw a crowd. you take that as a compliment since you came up with a few of them.

the point is, harry can get stressed and pretty mean. you’re afraid he’ll explode if you ask him a question sometimes. he turns super red. but, he also knows more than you do. he’s had to fix countless machines you’ve almost broken. you two make an interesting team. it’s just you and harry who work mornings.

your mouth drops open when you see the line of people squished into the shop. “oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. harry hears it and hums smugly. “rush hour came early. get out there.” you quickly take your spot at the register. a man with a fuzzy red sweater and judgy look steps up. “hi, sorry for the wait. what can i get started for you?”

the rest of your morning is exactly the same. you deal with the crabby customers, harry makes the drinks. it gets better once your other coworkers clock in for the day. orders get done faster, and you have someone to joke around with from time to time.

you and harry eventually switch because he’s bored of making hot chocolates. you’re in charge of drinks while he rings people up now. it’s not too bad at first. all you have to do is dump some mixes into water and call names. then, everyone starts shouting at you. the drinks gets harder, you keep messing up, and customers aren’t happy.

harry is about to tell you off when he sees you stumble. he rushes to your side before you hit the ground. you grab his arm with an apologetic smile. “thanks.” “is it...” you nod, not wanting him to finish his sentence.

he’s your only coworker you told about your accident. it happened last year, almost a full one to date. you got this job a few months after. harry has always been understanding of it all, and he accommodates you however he can. you’re grateful to have his support.

“i’m just a little lightheaded. i’ll be fine,” you wave him off. he clicks his tongue. “you can’t stand if i let go of you.” you’d try to prove him wrong, but you don’t feel like falling on your face in front of all these people. “go take your break, y/n,” harry says softer this time. you give in, letting him take you to the coat room.

━ ❆

it’s finally the end of the day. your shift ended fine, and now you’re walking out with harry. you’re laughing at something he said inside. you pull your coat up around your face, smiling as you say your goodbyes. harry looks off to the car you assume is his before returning it. he waits until you’re out of sight to get into the passenger seat.

“who was that?” tom asks before harry can even shut his door. “y/n. we work together,” harry replies casually and buckles his seatbelt. the car engine is the only thing holding off silence. he raises an eyebrow at his brother.

“why do you ask?” “dunno. looks like you’re friends,” tom says quietly, pulling out of the spot he parked in. “you haven’t mentioned her.” “i have. you’re never home when i do,” he deadpans. tom drums his fingers on the steering wheel as they stop at a light.

there’s that void begging to be filled again. harry gives him a small smile. “thanks for picking me up, by the way. you’re cheaper than uber.” “does that mean i’m getting paid?” tom looks over at him. “joking. anytime, bro.”

harry can tell he’s waiting to bring you up again. all he did was look at you, and he’s falling. he’s never been subtle about his crushes. harry knows the two of you would get on well, but he’s not sure if you can handle a relationship right now. this year hasn’t been easy for you. you should be focusing on your health, not his tool of a brother.

at the same time, you could use some cheering up. you haven’t sang along to one christmas song playing at the shop. tom gets so into christmas every year, so maybe some of his festivity could rub off on you. it’s possible to work on two things at once, right? you’ll be happy and healthy for the new year. that’s all harry wants for you.

he wouldn’t mind the same for tom, either.

“she’s in all day tomorrow,” harry sighs. tom scrunches his face up in the side mirror. “who is?” “y/n, div. i knew you were going to ask.” there’s no denying that one. “right. i’ll stop in for a drink.”

he smiles about it the whole way home.

━ ❆

the next day is just like the last one. harry seems more on edge than usual, but you don’t know what that’s about. he does let you stay on register today so the chances of you passing out are lower. that all changes when your next customer walks in. you recognize him immediately, even with a scarf covering half his face.

what the hell is tom holland doing in your café? he pulls his scarf down and walks up to place an order. you sort of forget how to act. “you... you’re...” you stammer, eyes wide on him. smiling, he presses a finger to his lips. all he wants is a coffee, and you’re about to get him mobbed. you raise your hands in defense and focus on the register.

“sorry. can i get you anything?” you try again, lowering your voice. he’s still smiling. “sure, thanks. i’ll try an iced peppermint mocha.” a smile takes over your own face. “cool, i suggested that one.” you punch it into the register, keeping your eyes on tom. “i’ll bet it’s good, then. i trust your judgement.” he sounds genuine but teasing at the same time.

“hey, harry.” tom waves at him while he makes something in the blender. harry unenthusiastically waves back before getting to work again. you turn to harry with your eyebrows knitted together. “you know each other?” “really well. we’re brothers,” tom replies, your eyebrows now raised to the top of your head.

“what? how come you never told me?” you almost yell at harry. he awkwardly dumps the contents of the blender into a cup. “it never came up.” “you don’t talk about me, baby bro?” tom jokes, getting his card out. you give harry one more look before turning back to him. “oh, don’t worry about it. it’s on the house,” you dismiss him.

“he’s a multimillionaire, y/n. i think he’ll be fine,” harry chimes in. “family discount,” you decide. tom chuckles and shoves his wallet back into his pocket. “you’re a funny one. can i make it up to you somehow?” his eyes lock with yours. you feel fluttery, like your heart is going to jump out of your chest. there could be a few reasons for that.

“um, can i get your autograph?” you murmur out. “easy. do you have something to write with?” he watches you scramble to get a piece of paper. you pull a pen from behind the counter and hand them both to him. a line is starting to form, but you can’t even pretend to care. there are more important things going on.

harry starts making tom’s drink while he signs the paper. he leans on the counter, his tongue poking out. he’s so sweet for doing this. your alarm goes off before you can tell him that. you quickly shut it and peek over the register to see. harry comes up to you.

“isn’t that for your medication? you should probably go take it,” he says so only you hear. you shrug a shoulder. “i set it a few minutes early. i’ll be fine.”

“here we go.” tom grins and hands you the paper, then the pen. you put it down with another smile before looking over his signature. you’re confused when you don’t see one. instead, he wrote down a bunch of numbers.

it can’t be...

“it’s my number,” tom explains, glancing over at harry for a second. he scoffs and puts the lid on his drink. “i figured you’d like it more than my terrible cursive.”

your whole body feels hot. whether it’s from putting off your meds or getting hit on by tom holland, you’re not sure. you wouldn’t mind the latter, though. it’s the safer of the two. in all seriousness, the fact that he has any sort of interest in you is pretty insane.

“wow, for real? thank you.” you look at the piece of paper in your hands, then at tom. “does this mean i can text you?” he’s practically beaming at you. “or call.” “tom,” harry calls from the pickup counter. he rolls his eyes for good measure. “i guess your drink is ready,” you laugh out. tom adjusts his scarf again.

“i guess it is. i’ll talk to you later?” you hold up the piece of paper. “that’s what this is for.” he breathes out a laugh and turns to go. you’re about to call up the next customer, but he looks back at you. you shake your head. it’s going to be impossible getting through what’s left of your shift. “enjoy.” tom nods confidently. “i will.”

━ ❆

the first thing you do once you get home is call tom. your roommate is out with friends, so you’re spread out on the couch. all the lights are off to help the headache you got. with your luck, you’ll wake up with a migraine. you’ve become too familiar with nursing those. it’s given considering everything that happened.

tom picks up on the third ring. you hold your phone to your ear and sit up. “hello?” he asks sternly. you cringe at yourself for not texting him who you are first. “hi, it’s y/n. i probably should’ve texted.” his tone softens. “no, you’re fine. i was waiting for you to call.”

“were you really?” you lay your head back on the arm of the couch. he hums proudly. “tom holland was waiting for me to call him?” “he was.” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “he really enjoyed your conversation earlier.” sighing, you look at your reflection in the tv. “i did, too. i don’t think harry could say the same.”

“he hates having me around. i’m embarrassing, apparently,” tom laughs at his brother’s behavior. you press your lips into a pout. “is that why i’ve never heard about you?” “probably,” he confirms. it seemed weird that he wouldn’t want to tell the world his brother is spider-man. then again, harry isn’t like that.

“that’s nice, though. it’s like i’m the same me before the movies,” tom lightens the mood. “not that i know you, but i feel like you are,” you agree with a small smile. he’s grinning at his phone. “speaking of not knowing me, when are you free?” he smoothly transitions to the asking you out part. you were hoping you’d get there.

“saturday. why?” “i was wondering if you’d want to go out with me.” you hold the phone away from your face and silently squeal. tom didn’t need to witness that. “that would be fun, yeah.” “anywhere special you want to go?” he asks. he’s hoping there isn’t because he already has a place in mind. you actually don’t.

“surprise me.”

-

i made a new taglist form, so fill it out if you want!! the link is in my bio

[quirklessidiot]

Title: tough luck Pairing: GN! Reader x Suna Rintarou [college au] Genre: domestic fluff and my bad comedy (teeny tiny angst if u squint)

Synopsis: “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.”               [this request of suna rintarou + fluff ]

Warnings: minor bad language but thats it Notes: 

omg i was finally able to write something fluffy yay! Hshdhdhd the mind- after all that angst. I hope yall enjoy this domestic college au suna hakhak where can i get one of these.

im posting three requests per week (its to help writers block and well, my english in general, they’ll be posted on random days) ill probably limit it to one when school starts though sike currently have four more requests to finish aye.

navigation

Thesis papers be damned.

You might as well burn your group mates to the depths of hell for leaving you to dry these past few weeks. They weren’t even replying to your messages tonight and you were having a mock presentation first thing in the morning.

You aggressively started to mix more cake batter after frosting the cupcakes.

“Baby?” a low voice echoes throughout the quietness of the kitchen, your steely gaze snaps to find your half-awake boyfriend standing there in his sleepwear, his raven hair completely a mess, if it were a normal day, you’d coo and snuggle next to your good-looking man and annoy the fuck out of him but no, you just had to be in a bad mood, “It’s four am, what’s with all the sugar overload?”

“I’m celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and my sanity. Want a cupcake, baby?” a sarcastic grin makes its way to your lips and honestly, despite his deadpan features, Suna was very worried. He had been bugging you these past weeks to stop living in coffee and instant noodles so he decided to crash your place tonight to scold you, cook yourself a hot meal, and smother you to sleep with his hugs but it seemed like it didn’t work at all and you just violently wormed your way out of his grasp.

He slowly made his way to you, eyes half-lidded, and grabbed the rubber spatula from your hands and snuggled his head on your shoulders like a kitten, “Sleep, Y/N. It’s not worth to stress over those shits.” his voice was blank as usual but you knew he meant well.

“Well those shits will be my downfall tomorrow if they can’t answer the panel’s questions.” You spat as you cracked the eggs harshly on the batter and snatched back the rubber spatula from his hand, letting out a loud huff as you continued to mix aggressively.

“Y/N…”

Silence.

“Y/N…” 

“Fine.” you grumbled, “Just let me-”

“I’ll clean up.” Suna sighs, grabbing the spatula once again from your hands, “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up at seven am, just in time for your class, right?”

“But i can-”

“Y/N.” Suna narrows his eyes, determined to get the last say between you two.

“Ugh.” You grumbled, shoulders slouched, “six thirty-”

“No, seven am. Your class doesn’t start until nine. You need more rest. No take-backs.”

Giving your boyfriend one last stink-eye, you slowly trudged yourself to the bedroom and just flopped yourself towards the bed. Ah, how bad could this day even get?

You shouldn’t have jinxed it.

You were almost late since the professor had moved the presentation time to eight am, thank god your apartment was near your uni, your boyfriend literally watched you shove the most decent outfit you could find and throw yourself out the door in a hurry. In the midst of the presentation, your stomach started to grumble too since you weren’t able to grab a cracker or your usual bread to go before class.

Even worse, your stink of an eye group mates weren’t able to get their parts right.

You were downright ready to throttle them, thank god that this was just a mock defense.

Your mood doesn’t exactly brighten even after the defense, you sit there and look like those cartoons who had fumes coming out of their ears. After class ended, you decided to bring it up to your professor and he tells you it’s too late to take the names out.

Your mood dampens even more.

Exiting the classroom with a scrunched up feature, you stop to see a very familiar figure standing there holding a brown paper bag and a cup of steaming hot milk on his other.

“Mornin’” Suna quietly greets you as he gives you a light feathery kiss on your cheek.

You blink.

“Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“The professor was absent, he had some staff meeting so I decided to get you a bento box and some milk. Try to avoid coffee for the time being.” Suna explains as he transfers the cup of milk to his other hand so that he could hold your hand, “Let’s have breakfast, Y/N. You don’t have class until another hour, right?”

Before you could protest, your boyfriend drags you to the field and under the shade of a large tree to eat the bento he bought.

Suna quietly listens as you rant on about how annoying and how much you want to throttle your good-for-nothing groupmates, occasionally wiping the little crumbs on the side of your cheek, “...You should take it easy.” Suna simply replies after you finish your rant, “You’ll get a cold if you keep this up.”

“My okaasan will definitely let me live in the cold if I fail a class.” You shiver at the mental image of your mother giving you a sermon. Suna just sighs as he fixes up your trash, he could never argue with you.

“Come,” he stands up and holds out his hand for you again, “I’ll walk you to your next class.”

The sun shines brightly yet your day doesn’t get any better, you had a pop quiz on one of your weakest subjects and you couldn’t even finish the readings since you were too preoccupied with your thesis and your groupmates.

You inwardly let out a groan as you made your way to the library, your phone rings and your brows contort in confusion at the name of your boyfriend. “Hello?”

“How’s class?”

“You’re such a miracle worker.” You sighed, “You always know when to call.”

“That bad?”

“Everything just sucks, ah life feel so shitty these days-” You confessed, scratching your head in annoyance.

“Hey.” He cuts you off, voice dead serious, “It’s just a bad day, Y/N. Don’t worry, we all have these days. How many classes do you still have?”

“Just two.” you huffed out, completely frustrated by how bad your day was going.

“Take a deep breath and drink some water, alright? I’ll see you after class, let's walk home and order some takeout then sleep early alright? My class ends the same time as you today.”

“B-But…” You stop protesting, realizing that Suna would shut down the idea. Saying goodbye to your boyfriend, you take in a deep breath and do as he instructed. 

Thankfully nothing major happens on the next subject and as you were about to proceed to your last class, Suna texts you that he has some milk bread on your locker and your favorite banana milk. A small smile made its way to your lips, one more subject and this wretched day was over then you’ll get to snuggle next to your boyfriend.

Again, you shouldn’t have jinxed it.

Someone had accidentally spilled the banana milk you were drinking all over your white shirt along with his cup of mocha drink (which thank god was cold because if it wasn’t, you’d be suffering a burn)

You had to sit through the whole class with the sticky feeling on your chest and that ugly slosh, you really should’ve brought a jacket today.

“Hey baby- jesus christ, Y/N what happened?”

It’s quite hard to gouge a reaction from your boyfriend most of the times but you can’t believe that something as easy as the big ugly slosh of mocha and banana milk stain on your plain white shirt would actually shock him.

You pressed your lip into a tight line, pissed, as you open your arms, “This,” you exclaimed, “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.”

Suna shakes his head at your antic and just takes his sports jacket to place it on your figure, he’s awfully reminded of a Pomeranian when you’re angry but he’d never say that out loud. 

Instead he softly grabs your hand and tugs it lightly, your quiet on your way home. He notices that maybe the fatigue is slowly sinking in, so the minute you guys enter your apartment, he urges you to change into your pajamas while he orders take out.

After a quick bite, you lay on top of him and snuggle on his neck, humming an unfamiliar tune as you draw circles on his chest, “Thanks.”

“Hm?’

“For being there.” You hummed, “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if you weren’t my boyfriend. So yeah, thanks...”

Suna feels a small smile make its way to his lips, he doesn’t respond, instead he just kisses your head and lets you lay on his arms, “Hey Y/N…” He paused and when he notices that you’re soundly asleep on his arms, his smile turns wider. i love you, he thinks randomly as he watches you sleep, “Goodnight.” he whispers instead out loud, kissing your forehead again and hugging you into his arms.

[guiltydumpling]

The Guard: Chapter 3

[KUVIRA X READER ROYAL AU]

Summary: “I called you all here to announce that we have a guest arriving sometime later today. Princess Y/N of the Kingdom of Elysian” The people in the throne room looked at one another confusingly. “Their palace was under sieged and the king had to send the princess away to keep her safe from any assassination attempts. Their kingdom has done a lot for us and has proven to be great allies for generations. She’s come a long way and has been traveling for a week, I expect nothing less than for all of you to treat her as you do a member of the royal family and to attend to everything and anything, she might ask for… This poor child has already been through too much.” There was silence in the throne room for a while, as they let the information sink in. “Dismissed.”

A/N: Hi beautiful beings <3 This chapter has mature content (i.e. masturbation and sexual thoughts) so please don’t proceed if that makes you feel uncomfortable !! 

P.S. I hope you are all enjoying the story as much as I am and I can’t wait to post the next chapters cause thing’s are gonna get interesting... and sad. According to my outline there’s about 4 more chapters left for this short story and I am exciteeeeedd

Word Count: 5.2k

A month goes by and each day you start to become more okay. You received a letter from your father two weeks ago and he assured you that things were slowly getting better and that you would be home soon enough. That letter was enough to comfort you for the next days to come while you in were Zaofu.

Meanwhile, since that night in your chambers, you and Kuvira grew to become incredibly close. You finally convinced her to start reading the book you recommended her which she reluctantly did after over a month of you suggesting it. It became a routine of yours to watch her spar every morning with the twins or train the new recruits.  She was a natural leader and everyday you admired her more and more. Occasionally you would bring a paper and a pencil to sketch her. She noticed you drawing her one time and you told her you just wanted to “practice” which she obviously didn’t buy but didn’t bring it up again. You enjoyed watching Kuvira in her element.

Some nights, she would join you for drinks in your chambers with Zhu Li and other nights it was just the two of you. You would be lying if you’d say that you didn’t prefer the latter. You talked about anything and everything. You didn’t have much of an interesting life and you were always excited to hear about Kuvira’s adventure and experiences as the Captain of the Guard. Everyday you fought the urge to do something you might regret with her and your self-control was getting weaker each day. Suck it up. You would say to yourself.

Before Avatar Korra left, Opal was able to convince Suyin to let her train with the Avatar and the rest of the new air benders in the mainland. Tears of joy nearly fell from your eyes when Opal was saying goodbye to you. You rooted for her so much and you were overwhelmed with pride when she chose to follow a different path rather than what was originally laid out for her.

What you would give to be able to forge your own path. But you didn’t have that luxury. Not anymore. Not since your sister’s death and the siege on Elysian. You had a duty to your people and to your father now.

You spent most of your afternoons in the library with Kuvira or in the garden with the Empress. You never knew your mother, so you were always eager to spend time with Suyin and have conversations you wished you had growing up. You really only had Zhu Li to talk to about things on your mind and it was comforting to know that Suyin was there too.

You were surprised to learn that your mother was born and raised in Zaofu. She was one of Suyin’s ladies and that she was originally supposed to marry your father to strengthen your kingdom’s alliance. You never knew this story and you never thought to ask about how your father met your mother. You always assumed it was like any other royal union. Early engagement and marriage. But this was so much more than that.

“Your mother was my best friend. And at the time of my engagement I was in love with somebody else. An architect.” She starts

“Emperor Bataar?” you ask, and she nods in confirmation. You were walking along the garden, collecting flowers to send to Opal along with many gifts from the Empress.

“While your father was here to court me, I would ask your mother to always cover for me so I can sneak out to secretly see Bataar. And along the way, your mother and your father got along really well. Not that I minded, in fact, I was happy for them. Your father talked to me about our marriage and we both agreed that neither of us wanted it. We ended up becoming good friends instead and I gave him permission to court your mother while I proceeded to marry the man I truly loved.” She explains and you nodded fully invested in the tale, urging for her continue. “Your father and I married separately but happily, and we knew that we owed it to each other. We loved one another not romantically but as people who we were thankful to have in our lives. After that, we didn’t need the marriage to strengthen the alliance anymore. Because we knew that no matter what, we would do whatever we can to be of service to each other.” The empress finishes as she picks the last flower for her arrangement. “Thank you for telling me this your majesty.” You say with soft smile.

~ ~ ~

You were playing the piano in the library while Kuvira sat on the couch reading the book you told her to read while humming lazily to the tune you were playing. “Her majesty told me about how my parents met” you say after you stop playing and Kuvira looks up from her book. “Did you know that my father and the empress were supposed to get married?” you continued and Kuvira raises her brows in surprise “No, I did not” she answers. “Neither did I” you say with amusement

“You would have been the princess of Zaofu” Kuvira suggested

“Or I probably would have never existed at all” You retort and Kuvira shakes her head

“Well then thank the spirits above that they did not end up marrying one another” she says as she goes back to reading her book. You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Why is that?” You ask Kuvira and she looks up from her book once more. She takes a moment to respond. “A world without you would be bleak. Not really a world worth living in if you ask me.” She says in a serious tone before going back to her book once more.

Heat rushes through your body and you fought the urge to smile. Kuvira did this a lot. She would compliment you or say sweet things to you so passively that you sometimes wondered if she knew how this, how she affected you.

You went back to playing the piano.

~ ~ ~

You just got out of bed when Kuvira walks into your chambers with morning tea for you and Zhu Li and you two thank her. “Are you training anybody today Vee?” you ask Kuvira as you take sip from the delicious tea while Zhu Li brushes your hair. “Nope, not today princess” and you frown slightly.

As inappropriate as it was, seeing Kuvira breathing heavily and sweating was the highlight of your day. If you couldn’t touch her, the least you could do was look at her. And it wasn’t like you were harming her or anything, you just needed to be entertained.

“Why princess? You had something in mind?” Kuvira asks and you thought about it for a while before an idea struck you.

“I was wondering if you could train me” you suggested and Kuvira raises an eyebrow at you. “You want me to train you?” she asks just to make sure she heard you right and you nod your head with a hum

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to fight, just in case a noble decides to piss me off” you say jokingly and Kuvira laughs “Fine. The nobles would most probably deserve it anyway” Kuvira jokes along and Zhu Li joins in on the laughter.

You were now on the training ground and you had on black bottoms that were made of spandex that hugged your legs perfectly along with a tank top similar to Kuvira’s, except yours was a deep red. Kuvira on the other hand, was in her usual training clothes.

“Okay so first thing’s first you’re going to have to learn defense before you can go offense” She explains to you. “Why can’t I do offense?” you ask “Well mainly because defense is more practical for somebody of your status and judging by your eagerness to learn, you’ll most likely start picking fights with random people all over the palace” she says with a playful look and you mischievously smile “just the nobles” you answer and earning a chuckle from Kuvira

The training started and you noticed that Kuvira wasn’t training you like she would train other newcomers. First of all, she was too gentle. She would pretend to do offensive techniques on you so that you can practice the application of the new defense move you learned, and you easily won everytime and it bothered you.

After she complimented you once you tried to do another defensive technique, you had enough. “Stop it” you say seriously, and she looks at you in confusion. “I’m sorry?” she asked “Stop giving me the special treatment. I know how you train people, and this is not it.” You say as you turn to her to meet her deep green eyes and her features harden. “You want me to order you around?” she asks and your stomach flutters. Something about the thought of her “ordering you around” was incredibly intriguing and hot. So, you nod. She looks at you for few more seconds before she speaks “okay then”

Moments later and Kuvira didn’t hold back in “ordering you around”.

“Tighter” she says as you grabbed a hold of her wrist in an attempt to stop it from coming at you. “Harder” as you try to fight against its force. “Stop” she says, and you do. “Horse stance” she demands, and you comply.

You stare straight ahead and Kuvira circles you, closely observing as she tries to look for something to correct. “your form is right, but you can be easily knocked over. The point of this is for you to be able to withstand force.” She explains and you nod. She kneels in front of you just enough for head to be leveled with your hips “look at me” she says, and you do.

Kuvira kneeling in front of you in that top with sweat dripping from her neck to her chest was a sight you might never be able to rid your memory of. She put both of her palms on either side your thighs and squeezes them, causing your heart to raise. “I need you to tense these up for me” and you do. “harder” she says, and you comply. She smiles at you before saying “good”

Kuvira slowly gets up without breaking eye contact and she was directly in front of you now. Her face and her body just inches away and your breath hitched when you felt her place both her hands on your waist. She dragged one hand to your abdomen to press it. “Now I need you to tighten this for me” she says. For me. At this point she can ask you to jump off a cliff for her and you might probably do it.

She is still looking directly at you, “I want you to think of something that gets your body to tense up. Anything at all” She tells you and you furrow your brows in confusion “what do you mean” you ask “What gets you riled up? What gets your body to react and stiffen?” she explains, and your mind flies to images of Kuvira immediately.

“Close your eyes and picture it, something that will get your body to physically react” she suggests, and you do. You close your eyes and picture things that might get you to tense up. Kuvira.

Her hands all over your body. Tracing kisses all over your neck to your collarbones then down your chest. One hand holding you by the waist and the other squeezing your breast. You think about her pushing your dress up to grab your thighs. Fingers inching slowly towards your heat to tease you as you feel her heavy breathing. You think about her pressing her middle and ring finger against your heat over your underwear and moves it agonizingly slow that your knees would buckle from arousal. You think about her wanting you. Pleasing you.

Naturally, your body stiffens. “Very good princess” Kuvira whispers in your ear. The thoughts running through your head along with your proximity with Kuvira was beginning to be too much for you to handle. You feel warmth pooling at your center and your breathing was starting to become heavier. Suck it up. You thought to yourself. “Open your eyes. You can relax now.” She demands and you follow standing up right once more. You see a faint smile playing on her lips. Her lips. “I want this much tension in your body everytime we train. Got it princess?” She tells you and you simply nod unable to form words, still feeling flustered.  

“How does it feel?” She asks you and you had to hum, indicating for her to repeat the question because your mind was still elsewhere. After she repeats the question you think for a moment. All you felt right now was desire and frustration from not being able to do anything about your desire. What do you feel?

“I feel… tired” you manage to say, and she nods her head in agreement. “We can continue another day. You should freshen up now. I’ll take you back to your chambers” she offers, and you shake your head no. “It’s okay I can head back there myself. Why don’t you go freshen up as well and I’ll see you after lunch?” you suggest, and she hesitates for a moment before agreeing. You turn to leave, and you feel your head start to spin. Was it from training or arousal? You will never know.

You reach your chambers and thankfully Zhu Li was already there tidying things up and does a curtsy when she sees you. You smile at her and you plopped yourself down on the couch not wanting to ruin the bed she just fixed. You close your eyes for a moment, and you feel Zhu Li’s eyes on you and as expected, you open your eyes to see her sitting across from you.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say to Zhu Li and she nods. You bite your lip feeling a little bit embarrassed by the question you want to ask but if anyone can help you it would be no other than Zhu LI. “How do you find… other women?” you ask her

“How do I find other women… physically or emotionally?” she asks, and you answer with “both”. “Well your highness, I think they’re really beautiful. All unique in their own way. As for emotionally… I guess I admire them, mostly women who are good in combat. Or outspoken.” She answers and you shake your head.

“That’s it? You don’t think about them… or try to not think about them at all? Or maybe wonder if… they might… think about you too?” you say, your voice trailing off and Zhu Li raises a brow at you. “You mean Kuvira?” she asks, and your eyes widen in surprise “What?! Where for spirits sake did you get that idea?!” you ask trying to not sound defensive but obviously failing.

“I’ve known you since you were a child your highness. I know you’re reserved and most of the time untrusting. But with Kuvira… You’re always glowing around her. I’ve never seen you more comfortable with anybody else since your sister” She explains “Not to mention that your face gets red after every single compliment she gives you” she playfully adds, and you bury your face to your hands in embarrassment. There was no point in hiding it now.

You let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know what to do Zhu Li” you say as you look back up at her. “What do I do?”

“As a friend… I would advise you to follow your heart. Cliché, but that’s the only way to be happy. And you deserve to be happy.” She says and you smile at her. “But as a royal subject, I would advise you to think about it carefully. At the end of the day, you are still an heir. The only heir at that. And although things have been more progressive since the Avatar admitted her love for Ms.Sato, it is still not generally accepted. Especially for people with your title. A title that requires heirs and a title that would require you to marry not for love, but for power and security.” She explains and you nod your head in understanding. You already knew these things. Which is why you never acted on your urges before because it would just be pointless. But it felt a lot more real now that it was somebody else who was saying these things to you. The stakes felt heavier. “Whatever you decide to do, I will support you. But I beg you… think about it” Zhu Li adds, and you nod your head once more. “Thank you for speaking your mind Zhu Li. I can always count on you to tell me the what I need to hear” you say before standing up. “Shall I draw you a bath?” Zhu Li asks, and you say yes.

You touch the water to check the temperature. Deciding it’s warm enough you start to disrobe before soaking in the bath. You exhale loudly as you let the warm water ease your muscles. I’m definitely going to feel this tomorrow. While scrubbing off the sweat and dirt on your body, your mind starts to replay the events this morning. You recall the feeling of Kuvira’s breath tickling your ear and her hands on your waist. The image of her on her knees in front of you, breathing heavily and glistening with sweat. You feel the warmth between your legs once more and you press them together to try to alleviate the sharp tingle.

You try to ignore the sensation between your legs as you proceed to rinse the lather off your body before you submerge yourself deeper into the bath. It was still tingling. Letting out an exasperated sigh, “fuck” you whisper to yourself and you close your eyes.

You remember your conversation earlier with Zhu Li about your desire to pursue Kuvira being impractical. You knew it was. But is it so bad that you want her anyway? Nobody will ever know right? How bad you want to feel her lips against your own. How you want to entangle your fingers through her thick hair. How you want her to kiss you all over your body. To feel her fingers there.

You peeked at the door to check if it was locked and with a shameful blush, you slipped a hand between your legs. I might as well get something out of this you thought. Your one hand rubbed against your sex in slow circles and you gasped when you started to increase your pacing. You dragged your free hand across your body to massage your left breast imagining it was Kuvira’s instead and you couldn’t help but let out soft moan escape your lips.

Your legs were starting to shake, and you slipped your middle and ring finger in and you had to bite on your lip to keep yourself from making anymore noise. Your fingers pumped in and out and you bring your other hand from your left breast to press against your clit. As you fingered yourself, along the way you pumped deep enough to find your sweet spot and your eyes widened. “Yes…” you moaned as you continued to pump your fingers making sure that you were hitting the right spot, but your body demanded more.

You increase your pace and you lifted your hips to rock them and match the rhythm of your fingers while your other hand continued to rub your clit. This time you didn’t bother to stop yourself from making noise anymore. “Fuck, Kuvira” you moaned, and you felt yourself clenching around your fingers. You were so close.

You put your hips back down and instead lifted your legs to rest it on either side of the tub, comfortably spreading your legs apart. You continued to pump your fingers and your hand moved to your neck, putting enough pressure to limit your air supply and this turned you on even more. Your mind replaced the hand around your neck with Kuvira’s as she whispered dirty things in your ear. “I want you to come for me princess” You imagine, practically hearing her voice. “Yes… oh fuck yes…” you moaned as you shut your eyes and your body starts to shake as you reach your climax and you had to bite your lip to keep you from screaming Kuvira’s name. You couldn’t help but let a string of moans slip from your mouth and occasionally Kuvira’s name as you continued to slowly pump your fingers, letting yourself ride your orgasm out.

Finally pulling your fingers out, you rinse them in water, and you emerge your body from the bath, your legs still shaking slightly. You patted yourself dry before draining the water from your tub. You turned to see yourself in the mirror and your cheeks and lips were more pigmented than they usually were which you admittedly kind of liked. It made you look very relaxed and problem free which for a moment back there, you were. And you knew in your heart no matter how much it embarrassed you, that whatever you just did, would not be the last time.

~ ~ ~

Two weeks go by and you were practically touching yourself to the thought of Kuvira every chance you got. It was starting to become a problem. Especially since Kuvira was really comfortable around you as well which meant more touches, more jokes, flirty lines, and innuendos. You hated yourself for it. You felt icky.

It wasn’t your first time touching yourself of course, it was just your first time touching yourself with someone in mind. You already knew she had similar feelings for you, but you doubt it was as strong as yours. And who knows, maybe it was just her being intoxicated that one night that led her to almost kiss you.

You had moments with Kuvira where she would intentionally let her touch linger a while longer than necessary and you just know that she knows how much it drives you wild. She would chuckle at you whenever she would catch you staring at her or whenever she’d witness you blush from one of her comments about you. It was as if she wants you to want her, and it was extremely frustrating.

Your combat training continued a few more sessions before you had to stop because she needed to train newcomers and you would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed. You tried giving her a lesson in archery once only to have Kuvira realize in that moment that she hated the sport, which you didn’t really quite understand if she really thought it wasn’t for her or if she just didn’t like the way you thought her in that one session. You were hoping for the former.

You were now situated on the couch in your chambers outlining a sketch of Kuvira from the training this morning. Moments later and you were drawing her arms. I wonder how it would feel wrapped around me. You blush and move on to her hands, her fingers. Those long and strong fingers must feel good pressed against me. And you feel the familiar warmth pooling between your legs, and you stop drawing. “Why the fuck am I like this?” You ask yourself quietly before placing the sketchbook down and slowly spread your legs comfortably on the couch.

You let out a deep sigh before undoing your night robe to expose your naked body. You lightly twist your nipples in between you thumb and your index before sliding your hand between your legs. You let out a soft moan when you start rubbing slow circles against your heat and you let your head fall on the couch, relishing the sensation. You close your eyes and your mind replaces your hand with Kuvira’s like you would usually do.

You start to rock your hips against your hand, and you increase your pace. “Spirits… fuck…” you moaned. You felt your hand starting to slip from your clit because of how wet you were, and this turned you on even more. You kept the fast pace and your legs were now starting to shake. You let go of your breast and gripped the side of the couch to release some of the tension you were building up in your body. You were so close to the edge and you were breathing so heavily now.

Knock knock

Your eyes snap open and you immediately get up from the couch to look over at the door. “Who is it?” you yelled with a hint of annoyance hoping they would get the memo and leave.

Knock knock

You huffed in frustration and secured your robe around your body in an attempt to look somewhat presentable. You stood up from the couch and walked over to the door to open it and you were surprised when you see Kuvira standing there with an unreadable expression. She was still in her uniform, but without the metal armor.

“I finished your book” she says, and your eyes widen in surprise

“That’s um… great?” you answered not quite sure why she had to come all this way at this hour to tell you that. “How’d you find it?” you ask

“I think it’s stupid.” She answers and you were taken back, “excuse me?” you ask somewhat offended. “May I come in?” she asks, and you let her.

You close the door behind you and Kuvira start to pace back and forth before she stops to lock eyes with you.

“Why would you make me read this? You told me it was a story of courage!” She says, frustration laced in her tone. “It is!” you answered back starting to feel annoyance amidst the confusion. “No, it isn’t! They both die in the end because of their stupidity and greed, Romeo should have just stayed away from Juliet in the first place!” she explained, and you were still confused as to why this affected her so much.

“Romeo loved Juliet. And for him, it didn’t matter if their families were never going to accept them because he was willing to risk everything just for her and her for him” You try to explain calmly, not wanting to rile Kuvira even more which seemed to work because Kuvira’s features softened. She walks towards you and stops when she was only a foot away from you. She stares into your eyes for a while before letting out a sigh.

“Do you really believe that?” she asks in a low voice. And you understand now. She was referring to the two of you. You nod, unable to form words at the moment.

“It doesn’t make sense Y/N” she says and your heart flutters when you hear your name fall from her mouth. She’s only every called you “your highness” or “princess” despite giving her the permission to call you by your name. Now she’s used it, and all you want to do is to hear her say your name over and over.

“What’s the point in pursuing someone if you both know that it will never work? That no matter how much you love one another; you just aren’t meant for each other. What do you do when all you want is to hold somebody in your arms and tell that person how you truly feel, only to have to let that person go at the end? What happens then?” She explains and your heart is now beating out of your chest. You try to fight the tears that are welling in your eyes and you don’t break eye contact with Kuvira.

“I don’t know… But isn’t better to live a life knowing love than not at all?” you start. You walk towards Kuvira. She doesn’t move so you take this as a sign to continue walking closer. You gather all your courage and you bring your hand up to her face, neither of you daring to break eye contact. Naturally, she leans into your touch and brings a hand up to put on top of yours and her other hand snaking around your waist to pull you closer. “Sometimes you have to stop thinking about the future. Why should it be such a sin to be selfish from time to time? To take what we want?” you continue. “What do you want?” she asks.

Kuvira’s eyes shifted from your lips and back to your eyes. You knew what she wanted to do, and you wanted her to do it. It’s been over a month of self-control, tension and denial and you were exhausted. You worried about what is expected from you all your life that you never really knew what you wanted. Only that you wanted to meet those expectations. But right now, with Kuvira right in front of you, you were never sure about wanting something in your life than you were at this moment. You wanted Kuvira.

She was the only person to ever make you feel so comfortable and secure. You never liked being vulnerable around other people, but everything was just so easy with Kuvira. Everything felt so natural, so right. You were absolutely nothing alike and you complemented each other so perfectly. You loved how she never tried to impress you or never hesitated to call you out unlike most of the people in your life. She was genuine and honest, and spirits was she everything you never knew you needed.

“I want you” you finally admit. And Kuvira gives you a soft smile. “yeah?” she asks “yeah” you confirm returning Kuvira’s smile and no longer able to wait, finally, you put your free hand on other side of her cheek and you pull her in for a kiss, closing the gap between you and she places both her hands around your waist to pull you even closer.

It was everything you ever imagined and more. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and the feeling of her lips against your own was something you never thought you’d experience. Her lips were soft even when pressed hard against yours and you decide to wrap your arm around her neck wanting to feel even closer.

Kuvira pulls away first and you were both breathing so heavily now. She presses her forehead against yours, “you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this with you” she whispers, and you smile at her.

If you only knew what I’ve been up to the past weeks. You thought

She pulls you in for another deep kiss.

[captainjanegay]

someone holds me safe and warm | Stucky | Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Timelines, 4+1 | 5.4k words | Ao3

Summary:

Four times Steve was sick or hurt and Bucky tried his best to care for him and one time the roles were reversed.

A short trip through Stucky timeline with loads of softness and care on the way.

A/N: It's here! My Secret Santa gift for the loveliest @snarky-drabbles​ ♥ I was so worried I won't be able to finish it and it turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but I really hope you'll like it :') I was so happy when I've heard you wanted some nice and soft sickfic and I hope I was able to provide you with exactly what you wanted ♥ I wish you the happiest holidays season, love! Despite the stressing, it was such a pleasure to write it for you ♥ Also big thanks for @metalbvcky​ for hosting this event, it was so much fun :’) And thank you my sweetest Luisa @its-tortle​ for giving it a read and being your incredible, supportive self :’)

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1. December 9th, 1928

The snow has been falling all night. Bucky’s mum had to almost forcefully drag him away from the window, because Bucky couldn’t stop looking at the tiny snowflakes making layers over layers of fluff on the ground. If he could, he would stay up all night, just to make sure the snow won’t disappear before he wakes up. The only argument that eventually makes him go to sleep is the threat his mum makes, saying that he won’t get to go out with Steve tomorrow if he doesn’t make it to bed in the next 20 minutes. He makes it in 15.

When his mom finally lets him go to the Rogers’ house the next day, it’s well past 11 o’clock. Luckily, the snow is still there and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s more of it than he remembered. On one hand he wants to take the longer route so he can spend more time kicking it up in white, fluffy clouds, jumping into snowdrifts or making snowballs. He doesn’t throw them at anyone, his mum raised him better than that, just drops them back onto the ground. The most fun was in creating a perfectly round ball anyway. But on the other hand, he wants to get to Steve’s house as soon as possible, so they can go out and do all of those things together. Eventually, he decides to take the shortest route possible but he kicks the snow around even more to make up for it.

Ten minutes later he runs up the stairs of the old tenement house and knocks on the door. Two slow and three rapid taps, as always. Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Steve to run to the door to let him in, as always.

But this time it’s not Steve who opens the door. It’s Mrs. Rogers, her face pale and with dark circles under her eyes. But as soon as she sees Bucky a big, genuine smile brightens up her face. It’s the exact same smile Bucky has seen on his friend many times.

“Good morning, James,” she says. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good morning and likewise, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky grins, taking off his cap. “Is Steve here? It’s been snowing all night and I was hoping we could go play outside!”

Mrs. Rogers sighs, her smile getting a bit sad. Bucky senses that something’s wrong, and his excitement melts like the snowflakes he tried to catch on his tongue.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Mrs. Rogers says. “Steve’s sick. He won’t be able to go outside for a while. I guess you’ll have to face all this snow by yourself today.”

Bucky's face falls upon hearing that. He was really excited for today and he spent long minutes before he fell asleep last night thinking about all the fun he and Steve could have. But Steve’s sick and the idea of doing all of them alone doesn’t sound fun at all. So instead of saying goodbye and heading home, Bucky looks at Mrs. Rogers with hopeful eyes and asks, “Would you mind if I came in and stayed with Steve for a while?”

The warm smile is back on Steve mother's face as she ruffles Bucky’s hair in an affectionate gesture and steps to the side, letting him in. “Of course, I don’t mind. Steve will be so happy you’re here.”

Bucky quickly shrugs off his coat and kicks off his shoes. Just as quickly, he apologises for all the snow he’s brought inside and picks up his shoes to put them on the rag by the door. Mrs. Rogers only waves a hand at him. Instead of running straight to Steve’s room, Bucky follows Mrs. Rogers to the kitchen when she asks for some help. Tongue sticking out in concentration, Bucky takes a careful hold of the bowl of hot chicken soup and slowly walks after Mrs. Rogers who is carrying an armful of meds and a glass of water.

As soon as they enter the other room, a small, blond head peeks out from under a mountain of blankets. As soon as it notices Bucky, a smile splits its face.

“Bucky!” Steve says, his voice all raspy and weird.

Bucky only grins in response, sending a quick look Steve’s way before he focuses back on the bowl in his hands. Only when it’s safely set aside on the bedside table, Bucky jumps towards the bed. Mrs. Rogers stops him when he tries to give Steve a hug, saying he might get sick, too, so it’s better if he keeps a bit of distance.

Steve's smile falters. He tries to convince Bucky that he should go so he won’t catch anything from him. In response, Bucky calls him a dimwit and drops onto the floor next to the bed. 

Mrs. Rogers checks Steve’s temperature, rubs his back with something with a very strong smell and gives him some medication. Steve looks miserable and a bit embarrassed through all of it. Seeing his friend’s discomfort, Bucky tactfully looks away and starts babbling about the snow, about mean Mr. Flanagan slipping on the icy pavement in front of his house today and falling onto his butt while shouting obscenities. He tells Steve how pretty the park looks with trees and bushes all covered in snow. He asks if Steve would be able to draw them if Bucky describes it to him with all the details he can remember. When he glances up at his friend, Steve’s eyes are finally bright and happy again, and he’s really excited to try. 

Mrs. Rogers leaves a few minutes later, dropping a kiss to Steve’s head and ruffling Bucky’s hair before she walks out of the room. Steve adjusts his pillows so he can sit more upright and takes a small sketchbook from the bedside table. Bucky rests his folded arms on Steve’s bed and places his chin on top of them. As soon as he starts talking about the snowy park, Steve starts drawing. It looks just like the real thing. Soon enough, Bucky starts making up details, at first some believable ones but then he comes up with more and more ridiculous things. Giggling, Steve dutifully puts them on paper. It’s really nice, knowing that Bucky managed to make his best friend laugh despite the misery and terrible cough that escapes his mouth every so often.

The snow might be nice but there’s still plenty of winter left, so Bucky’s sure he and Steve will have a chance to play outside soon. Bucky is more than happy to sit by Steve’s side if it means he can save him from boredom this way.

Besides, their version of the snowy park is so much better than the real thing.

.

2. December 14th, 1936

It’s cold. The old stove is not giving as much heat as it’s supposed to. They’re slowly running out of things to keep the fire running and Bucky should probably check if there are any old wooden crates or something he could take from the docks tomorrow. It’s not freezing yet, but the nights are supposed to get even colder. He has to do something. The coughing fit from the other side of the room makes Bucky take another log from the quickly disappearing pile in the corner, before he goes back to stirring the soup.

He didn’t make it, just heating up a portion of what his mom gave him when he came by for a quick visit earlier today. It’s better than anything he could make, but it’s not as good as Mrs. Rogers’. God, there’s no way anyone could compete with her in terms of cooking or baking. Bucky was pretty sure her chicken soup had some actual healing powers, considering how quickly it was able to get Steve back on his feet.

It’s easier to think about Mrs. Rogers' soups and their magical properties than the fact that each time Steve gets sick, it seems to be worse than the last time. Thinking about that won’t do anyone any good. And Bucky would rather swallow a log than let Steve see how worried he gets sometimes. 

So he stirs the soup extra vigorously before pouring it into a bowl when it gets nice and hot. It’s filled to the brim, so Bucky furrows his brows in concentration as he slowly makes his way across the room.

When he’s halfway there, he hears a laugh from the pile of blankets on the bed. It’s a bit wheezy but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he looks up, Steve is already looking back at him with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” Bucky asks defensively, feeling flustered all of sudden.

“Nothing,” Steve says. He looks tired and pale but his lips stretch in an even bigger smile. “When you’re concentrating on something, you still stick your tongue out. Just like when you were a kid.”

“Oh fuck off, Rogers,” Bucky mumbles, placing the bowl on a stool that serves as a makeshift bedside table. “You’re not getting any of the soup for being an asshole.”

“How am I an asshole?” Steve asks. “I just think it’s cute that you still do that.”

Feeling that his blush is only getting worse, Bucky turns around and pretends to be very busy putting away the food from his mom. After taking a deep breath, he gets a grip on himself and walks back towards Steve.

As he approaches, Steve tries to slowly pull himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking with effort. When Bucky reaches out to help him, Steve sends him a warning look so fierce that Bucky just raises his hands in surrender and backs away. He sits on the chair by the small table, stacked with books, old newspapers, letters, some of Steve’s sketches and who knows what else. While Steve eats, Bucky tries to tidy it all up, putting it all into nice piles and filling the quiet with mindless chatter. He tells Steve about the new Christmas tree they’ve put up at the docks, and about Becca’s new guy who seems decent enough to get Bucky’s approval of going out with his sister. Every once in a while, he throws Steve a quick glance. He tries not to sigh at the sight of Steve’s shaking hands or at the fact that he needs to take a little break every few sips as if even eating tired him out. Bucky doesn’t offer help, no matter how much he wants to. Steve would probably strangle him with his bare hands if he did, even in his current weakened state.

So Bucky doesn’t say anything about that, just keeps babbling nonsense, getting an occasional hum or a chuckle out of Steve. After a few more minutes, Steve buries himself back under the blankets.

“It’s very tasty but I’m full,” he says. “Give your mom my thanks when you next see her.”

“How do you know I didn’t make it?” Bucky asks in mock offense, putting away the leftover soup. “You were asleep for most of the day so you can’t be sure.”

“You’re a decent cook, Buck. But that’s way out of your league. You’ve reheated it like a champ, though!”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “You’re such a punk, Rogers. Now scoot over - for such a small person, you’re taking an awful amount of space. I’m cold and you have all the blankets.”

They both know it’s just a guise. There’s a perfectly good cover on Bucky’s bed on the other side of the room. Steve doesn’t protest though, just move forward a bit, leaving space for Bucky to slide between him and the wall. As soon as Bucky’s settled, Steve’s body goes lax next to him and he presses his back closer to Bucky’s chest. Automatically, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. He rests his head on top of Steve’s, the soft fair hair tickles his cheek. Soon enough Steve’s breathing evens out. Bucky closes his eyes, but it takes him a bit longer to drift away, as he anxiously listens to all the hitches and rumbles in Steve’s breathing. At some point, still deep in his sleep,  Steve in his sleep wraps his long, delicate fingers around Bucky’s wrist. The touch soothing enough to let Bucky calm down and allow the sleepiness to finally take him.

As long as he holds Steve close to his chest, nothing bad can happen.

.

3. December 20th, 1938

There are blood stains on Steve’s white shirt. Some around his collar and some on his cuffs, which means that he managed to pack a punch or two before he got beaten up by whomever he started a fight with this time.

Bucky’s lips are set in a thin line as he tries to get a better look on Steve’s face to assess his injuries. Which wasn’t that easy considering that Steve is currently looking anywhere but at him. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, can you just—,” Bucky says angrily, gripping Steve’s chin and turning his face up. He might be furious that Steve has gotten into another fight, but his grip is gentle. The last thing he wants is to cause Steve more pain. But God knows how badly he wants to punch that reckless punk himself, sometimes.

Steve jaw is set and at first, he looks like he wants to free himself from Bucky’s grasp. Changing his mind, his eyes gaze right into Bucky’s, a challenging expression on his face. Bucky would laugh if it wasn’t for the state of said face.

The blood is most certainly coming from Steve’s split lip. Or maybe it’s from the deep cut on his left cheekbone, surrounded by a darkening bruise. There’s some dried blood under his nose, too. He doesn’t have a black eye this time, so that’s good. Although by the way Steve flinched when squaring his shoulders to look up Bucky thinks it’s a safe bet he got punched or kicked in the ribs. Bucky prays none of his fragile bones are broken.

The anger he felt dissipates, at least a bit. What’s left is worry — which Bucky tries to hide, knowing that Steve would just get annoyed at that – and affection. He stopped trying to hide the latter ages ago.

“Who was it this time?” Bucky sighs, absentmindedly swiping his thumb across Steve jaw, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises.

“Some asshole, as always. He was shouting obscenities at a girl who didn’t want to go dancing with him or something and he tried to follow her home,” Steve says with a shrug, followed by a wince.

Bucky can’t stop another sigh that escapes his mouth. He really wishes the world would be a better place. A place where people weren’t harassed for no reason, so Steve didn’t feel obligated to help them. Damn Steve Rogers and all his righteous anger and his heart of gold.

“Sit down. I’ll clean you up, punk.” Bucky puts his hand down and takes a step back. When he sees that Steve opens his mouth — to protest, most likely — Bucky points a finger at him. “Don’t argue with me. I will kick your ass. Don’t think I won’t.”

Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of smile tugging at his lips before he turns around and walks toward the bed. Bucky goes to get something to clean up Steve’s cuts.

“I can do it myself,” Steve says when Bucky’s back, reaching out for the wet cloth Bucky brought.

“Oh, I know you can. Just let me be useful since you’ve stolen all the glory, being a hero who saves ladies in distress and all,” Bucky responds, taking a gentle hold of Steve’s chin again.

“If getting beaten up and kicked like a dog is glorious, then yes, I guess I have. You’d be more of a help than I was, if you were there.” Steve’s smile is full of irony as he tries to look away but Bucky’s hand keeps him in place.

Bucky drops the hand that was gently wiping at the cuts on his face and waits. Eventually, Steve’s eyes land on him, probably wondering why Bucky stopped.

“You are worth dozens of men, Stevie. Dozens of me. You’re half my size but you saved so many people already. You’ve stopped that asshole from doing who knows what to this girl and gave her time to get home safely,” Bucky says, his voice steady and sure and his eyes never leaving Steve’s, no matter how Steve wants them to. “You always know the right thing to do, and I swear your heart is made of pure gold. If that’s not glorious, I don’t know what is. You’re incredible, Stevie and help me God, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you keep putting yourself down like this.”

Steve chuckles at the last part and opens his mouth as if to respond but closes it a second later. The smile he gives Bucky is shy and soft. Bucky’s heart aches to just lean down and close the remaining space between them. Instead, he lets go of Steve’s cheek and goes to wet the cloth again. It’s not necessary, but he needs to take a grip on himself before he does something stupid.

A few moments later all the blood is cleaned from Steve’s face, his nose turns out not to be broken this time and most of his cuts have mostly stopped bleeding. Bucky counts that as a win. 

“Take your shirt off,” Bucky says, trying not to blush. “Gotta make sure your ribs are in one piece.”

“Just admit you want to get me naked,” Steve replies without missing a beat. When the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to say them out loud. “I mean— I didn’t—,” he stammers.

Seeing how the blush colours Steve’s cheeks, still visible despite the bruising, and travels down Steve’s neck and past the collar of his blood-stained shirt, Bucky admits to himself that he is not as strong-willed as he liked to think. Sliding his hand down, Bucky traces Steve’s delicate collarbone with his thumb.

“To be honest, I’d prefer to do that for purposes other than checking if your ribs are intact,” he hopes he sounds nonchalant, but he can feel his cheeks are heating up. 

“Oh really?” Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow up. The challenging look is back, and Bucky is going to lose his mind if Steve doesn’t stop looking at him like that. All cocky and sure of himself, like his face is not beet-red at the moment.

Bucky clears his throat and picks up the cloth. “I guess we have to wait until your cuts and bruises are healed and check.”

Steve laughs, gripping a handful of Bucky’s shirt and tugging him lightly. “Can you— Just come here, you jerk. I’d get up but it really hurts, I think you should kiss it better.”

And Bucky does. He kisses Steve’s split lip and then very gently swipes his mouth across Steve’s cheekbone and jaw to go back to his lips a moment later. A giddy laugh escapes his mouth and he thinks that there’s no other thing he’d be doing. He is not naïve enough to believe Steve will stop coming home with bruises of all sorts, but Bucky will always be there to kiss them better.

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4. December 1st, 2024

The room is quiet. Or relatively so, considering that Brooklyn rarely gets completely silent, even at night. But it’s quiet enough for Bucky to hear the change in Steve’s breathing, where he lays asleep next to him. He opens his eyes and turns around. Soon enough, Steve starts tossing and turning, his breathing becomes more erratic. All those sleepless nights, spent on anxiously waiting for Steve’s next breath, praying the next one would come are flooding Bucky’s memory. He’s not sure if it’s better now. Steve might not be physically fighting for his life now, but the night terrors that haunt him, certainly make him feel like he does.

Carefully not to startle Steve, Bucky places his flesh hand on his arm. He squeezes lightly and whispers Steve’s name. When it doesn’t help, he tightens his grip for a moment and speaks a bit louder. Steve breathing hitches and he goes still for a moment. But then a strangled cry escapes his lips and he tosses hard enough that it wakes him up. Immediately, he sits upright almost knocking Bucky down in the process and he pants heavily, looking around the room with wide, terrified eyes.

"Steve," Bucky says, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's OK. You're OK. We're in Brooklyn. It's 2024. You're safe, we're safe. Everything's fine, Stevie."

It's like a mantra that Bucky keeps repeating until Steve is able to take full, big breaths again. When he finally turns his head to look at Bucky, he looks scared and lost and it breaks Bucky's heart into pieces. Bringing his hands up, Bucky wants to stroke Steve's cheek in a comforting gesture. But before he has a chance to do that, a grimace crosses Steve's face and he quickly gets out of bed and rushes towards the bathroom. Bucky sighs at the sounds of retching he hears a moment later. He gets out of bed and follows Steve. With a voice no louder than a whisper, he repeats over and over those little affirmations he knows Steve needs to hear and believe anew as he gently rubs his back. 

It doesn't take long for Steve to calm down, but Bucky would gladly sit there all night if needed. Soon enough the dry-heaving stops and only a tiny sob comes out of Steve's mouth.  Bucky helps him to brush his teeth, since his hands are shaking so much it makes it impossible to get the toothpaste out.

After that, Bucky tangles their fingers together and walks out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to bed back to bed, he leads them to the kitchen. He turns on the small lamp by the couch as they pass it,mostly for comfort, since with their respective shares of the serum, navigating in the darkness is not much of a problem for them. The dim light softens the dark edges of the living room and open kitchen space.

Bucky puts the kettle on, his hand not leaving Steve's for a second. He smiles — a bit sadly — as Steve comes closer, and plasters himself to Bucky's back, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Steve hides his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, right palm coming up to lay flat on Bucky's chest, right over his heart. Bucky takes slow, deliberate breaths, knowing that his calm will help Steve. So without a word, he lets Steve see and hear and feel that they're both alive and safe. That whatever haunted him in his nightmare is not real. At least not anymore.

Bucky brings Steve's left hand, the one he's still holding, up to his lips and places a kiss after kiss on  each of his knuckles. More reassurances are whispered right into Steve's warm skin. 

It's hard to tell how long they stay like this. The water starts boiling and the electric kettle turns itself off at some point but none of them as much as flinch at the sound. It could be hours and it could be mere minutes before Steve's muscles relax and his breathing finally steadies. While he doesn't let go of Bucky, he doesn't cling to him like a lifeboat anymore.

Slowly, Bucky turns around in Steve's arms. His hands gently cup his face and he rests his forehead against Steve's. 

"You're here," Steve says. The statement is just a shaky whisper and Bucky's not sure what to make of it, but he gives a small nod.

"I am. And I'm not going anywhere,"

"It's—," Steve starts, and then swallows. "You were— I thought—"

Leaning away just the slightest bit so he can look at Steve's face, Bucky shakes his head. "Shhh, Steve. It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. Don't torture yourself, love. We can talk about it in the morning if you want to, yeah?"

After a second, Steve gives a small nod. Even though the unease still hides in his eyes, he tries to muster a smile as he shifts his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Bucky's palm.

"Now, I'm going to make you a cup of tea because as Mrs. Rogers used to say—," Bucky says.

" 'A cup of Earl Grey always does more good than harm'" Steve finishes and closes his eyes but the smile grows a tad bigger.

"Bless her Irish soul," Bucky says with a smile of his own. "So I'm gonna make some and then we'll go back to bed. Or cuddle on the couch, or take a walk or whatever you want to do, OK?"

Steve looks up at him, his hand stroking lightly across Bucky's cheekbone. "I love you, Buck. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never have to know. I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'll be right by your side for the end of time because that's where I belong. And we've proven enough times that there's not a damn thing that could change that.”

.

5. December 5th, 2025

Bucky was never the one to get sick. When he was a kid he had a bad cold maybe once or twice but it was all forgotten within a week or two. Which is pretty surprising, considering that he was hanging with Steve all the time but never managed to catch anything from him. Later, he has gotten the serum so getting sick stopped being a real issue for him.

So why does his throat feel all scratchy, his nose is too stuffy for him to take a single breath and he feels both hot and cold at the same time?

It's because the world hates him, that's why. There's also a teeny tiny chance that it has something to do with his and Steve's last mission.

They were trailing someone who aspired to create a biological weapon, as one does. It wasn't hard to locate this mad scientist's secret lair or to capture him. Overall it was a pretty simple mission and it was going really smooth. At least until they were to extract the highly reactive bio-bomb that — quite literally — blew up in Bucky's face. It was good he was alone in the room when that happened because as the Avengers-issued doctor has later told him, the substances implicit in the bomb would be lethal to regular people in the dose that attacked Bucky. But to someone enhanced the worst case scenario would mean a heavy case of flu that the organism would be able to fight, eventually.

So, of course, the worst case scenario is exactly what is happening now. Every single muscle in Bucky's body is aching, including the ones he wasn’t even aware existed. The sheets are drenched with sweat and he's still shaking under his layers of covers.

"Steve?" he calls miserably. His voice feels like sandpaper in his dry throat.

Not even a second passes before he hears footsteps and Steve enters the room.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. There's a worried wrinkle between his brows.

Instead of answering Bucky let's out a little whine and pouts, looking up at Steve from where he's buried under the covers so only the upper half of his face is visible.

And what Steve does? The fucker laughs at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?" Steve asks, looking amused.

"I can't sleep," Bucky rasps out. "I'm uncomfortable and everything hurts and can I just die already?"

Steve laughs. Again. Really, Bucky can't fathom where people got the idea that Steve Rogers is all polite, nice and righteous all the time. He's the biggest asshole Bucky ever knew. 

"I figured you'd be dramatic when sick, but I didn't expect that," Steve says as he sits on the side of the bed. He reaches out with his hand and places it on Bucky's shoulder. It's pleasantly cool against his skin and Bucky closed his eyes and sighs.

"You're a dick," he mumbles. "Absolutely no compassion for the weak and hurting, I don't know how you can live like this."

As Bucky says that, Steve leans over and peppers his face — or at least the part not covered by the duvet — with little kisses. It's nice but Bucky's point still stands. Steve's a monster.

"You need anything?" Steve asks, gently stroking Bucky's hair.

"Yes." When Steve makes a questioning sound, Bucky continues, "the sweet relief of death, please."

Steve sighs heavily but when Bucky opens his eyes and looks at him, his face is both amused and fond. 

“I’m gonna make you some tea and soup, how about that?”

“Huh, so you are going to kill me?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go for poisoning but if that’s—”

Not letting him finish, Steve just gets up and leaves the room. Bucky tries calling after him but he doesn’t get any response and he has a coughing fit after raising his voice, so he gives up.

.

This time Bucky might have actually fallen asleep. He’s not shaking as much so he figures the fever must’ve gone down a bit but now his head is throbbing so he’s really not sure which option he preferred. When he confusedly looks around the room, his eyes land on Steve. He’s back, sitting on the bed by Bucky’s side.

Did Steve wake him up? Now that Bucky thinks about it, he vaguely remembers someone shaking his arm. His point about Steve being a monster still stands.

“Why d’you wake me up?” Bucky whines. “You said I need sleep and now you won’t even give me fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve slept for over two hours, love,” Steve points out, his hand on Bucky’s cheek. “I’m only waking you up cause you’ve barely eaten today and I’ve made some soup.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. He looks at the clock on the bedside table, but since he has no idea what hour it was when he last talked to Steve, it’s pretty useless. He’s not really hungry, but he figures it’s a reasonable thing to do. So, with a loud groan, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. The monster beside him chuckles at that but actually helps him arrange the pillows so Bucky can sit comfortably and places the small bed tray in his lap.

Despite what Bucky said earlier, the soup is good. Recipes are probably the only rules Steve knows how to follow so he’s a decent cook and knows his way around the kitchen if needed. Bucky gladly eats the whole bowl, enjoying the way it soothes his sore throat. 

When he’s done, he thanks Steve, who takes away the bed tray and gets up, probably to take it to the kitchen. Before he can get up, Bucky grabs his hand.

“Stay with me for a bit?” he asks.

Steve’s face softens. He puts the tray down on the floor and gets in bed, lying on top of the covers next to Bucky. Soon enough Bucky is tucked safely into Steve’s arms and under his chin and he lets out a content sigh.

“You’re feeling any better, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know, I’m so miserable and tired all the time. I hate it so much,” Bucky whines. “Is that what you’ve been going through every time?”

“Mostly. I guess I was too used to this to complain much.”

“And too stubborn. You’ve never let other people see how bad it was,” Bucky points out.

“That, too,” Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You always were able to make it easier, though.”

Bucky smiles, tucking his face further into Steve’s chest. He feels sleepy again but this time the warmth he feels is not caused by the fever. He mumbles into Steve’s shirt, not sure if the words his brain is trying to communicate are the same ones that his mouth says out loud. But judging by the way Steve’s arms tighten around him and by the “I love you, too” whispered into his hair, Bucky thinks they are. 

[thesouthernpansy]

your hand, my hand (to hold it)

artemy burakh/daniil dankovsky

2,556 words

(here on ao3)

Dankovsky stands at the top of the staircase in his shirtsleeves. He's changed, again, from the last time you saw him, his eyes darker and his jaw weaker, but he takes your hands in his cool, gloved palms and tuts in that same distant, put-upon way he has.

“When was the last time you cleaned your fingernails?”

Even in pitch darkness, with your eyes closed, you could find your way back to him by his scolding.

“I think I have a few crumbs under there, I was saving them for later.”

Dankovsky tsks, not without humor. “I expect you'll try to convince me it's economical. Are you hungry? I have some bread and—well, I've been told it's trout, but who can tell these days. Some kind of smoked fish. It's yours if you'll wash up. Quid pro quo.”

Are you hungry? You wonder at his formality; you've been hungry for days.

His back is to you while he digs through his doctor's bag, the blades of his shoulders, the knife of his spine. Your fingers itch with the urge to touch, to run the pad of your thumb against his angles like it could draw blood.

“The townspeople are finally rubbing off on you, huh?”

Distracted thought creases a line between Dankovsky's brows. “Ah, the local bartering custom. You'll have to more fully explain the precise mechanics of the process to me at some point.”

It's heartening and unexpected progress, from him, the admission—the interest—though you refrain from saying as much.

True to his word, he sets out a generous heel of bread and paper-wrapped package bleeding fish-smelling oil. Leans his hip against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms across his narrow chest. The fine visible bones of his wrist, the pale exposed forearm, you could close your whole fist around them with space to spare.

“Where did all this come from, anyway? The Kains?”

Dankovsky stills, a sudden subtle tenseness, his gloves drawn tight across the knuckles.

“The doctor's fund,” he says shortly.

“Ah.” Guilt seeps through to tangle with the warmer sensation rising in your chest.

Dankovsky gestures dismissively, turning away. “Don't give me that martyred expression. You come to the hospital or you don't, all that's important is that progress is being made on the vaccine.”

“The panacea,” you correct him.

“Suum cuique. Do we have a deal or don't we?”

“The healer's hands are always bloodiest,” you say, half teasing.

Dankovsky satisfies it with a long-suffering sigh. “Don't you mean muddiest? By the looks of it you've been up to your elbows looking for your steppe herbs all morning.”

Always your herbs, an arrogant dismissal as if he doesn't by now have ample first-hand experience with the effectiveness of your painkillers, at least. It frustrates him doubly, you've gathered in time, that you insist on wasting your time with flowers rather than focus on the infinitely more practical and productive collection of infected human samples that Dankovsky continues to find himself unanimously denied.

Silence settles between you with gauzy tangibility, like the pest-thick air of the infected Bridge Square, grey-green and swimming-still.

An idea comes to you. Against the growing distance you lift your grime-streaked hands, palms open, up.

“With this I give you company. The road you walk is dangerous, but you don't walk it alone. I go with you, my help and my guidance.”

“Your guidance,” says Dankovsky, mostly to himself.

“What do you give me, oynon?”

Movement at the corner of his mouth. “Food. I had thought I made that clear.”

“A thing can be more than it is, more than an object to take up space in your hand. To give and take is to connect, a feeling or intention, or...” you falter, trying to remember. “Warmth. Kindness.”

Dankovsky bites out a laugh at that, harsh and short. “Kindness? In this town?”

“Comfort,” you persist. “Joy.”

“Nothing anyone has given me in this town has brought me joy.” He stops to look at you, then, though, to truly look. “I ought to give you rest, if I thought that you would take it.”

“You'd have to have it, first, to give it away.” Both of you well aware that this is the closest to rest you're likely to get today, and even that more than either of you can really afford.

Dankovsky turns towards the window, his jawline a taut cord of tension. His profile backlit with sickly light, casting him angular, severe, the unexpected stranger in the near-dark of Rubin's rooms. Near the hollow of his throat, the shadow of dark unshaven stubble, like a bruise.

“For all that it matters. What's the actual purpose of this asinine exercise?”

“I told you—” You reach out; his hair curls damply by his ear, the pulse quickening beneath your fingertips. “It's about connection.”

Prickling, “Warmth, yes, I remember. Here—”

He takes your wrist. Then, from the little shaving kit on the windowsill, a thin wedge of soap, soft from use. Presses it into your hand.

“Take...care.”

You have held human hearts in your hands, before—hot, and with the echo of beating still in them. Maybe this is nothing like that, but it echoes all the same.

“Thank you, oynon.”

“You're welcome...emshen.” At your smirk, “What? Didn't I pronounce it correctly?”

You shake your head, laughter on your tongue. “It's the vowels. They're tricky, if you didn't grow up with the language.”

“Don't you patronize me.” He swats you away and goes, muttering the word under his breath, to collect a washbasin and pitcher from beneath the bed. They're a matched set, not poor quality but plainly in disrepair, the enamel pattern chipped and cloudy. Dankovsky sloshes the basin half-full, notices your watching.

“Concerns, Burakh?”

“No, it looks clean.”

“Of course it's clean. I saw to its collection personally. Eva has been surprisingly diligent about boiling all the water she can gets her hands on, as well, for whatever good it does.”

“Cholera dies in boiled water,” you say absently. For a brief, suspended moment in Dankovsky's place you see the frightened woman in the Flank, her flat terrified eyes, her trembling fists.

Dankovsky frowns in dim recognition. “Someone else told me that recently. I can't recall who it was.”

“Maybe it was a dream.” Quick, careful efficiency as you strip away enough of your soiled smock to bare your arms.

“I have been having the strangest dreams,” he admits, voice soft. “Ever since I arrived here. I dream about walking, mostly, out across the steppe. I'm up to my knees in water and trying to reach something on the very edge of the horizon, or perhaps it's the horizon itself? And the sky is always red, dark red like blood, and I can feel in my bones that something is missing, as though the moon might not be there if I could think to look for it.”

Frown deepening, he shakes his head as if to clear the image. “In any case, perhaps it was a dream, then. I've been experiencing a great deal of déjàvu lately.”

The basin water murkies like a pre-storm dawn, greying lather sloughed away with the days' mud and blood and sweat. Like peeling back dead skin to see something fresh and pink underneath, new nerve endings, raw and receptive. It feels wrong, somehow. Dark water, clean hands.

“How do you imagine the Town will think of you when this is all over, after you're gone?”

“I don't,” says Dankovsky, clipped. “There are far more consequential matters that call for my attention. Who has time to worry about the opinions of small minds, with so much to do?”

Sanctimonious bastard.

“I do.” Gripping the edges of the washbasin like you could snap it in two, satisfying in the imagined sound of shattering, Dankovsky's startled expression, a rush of movement across the Stillwater's floorboards.

“Well, it's different for you, obviously. Being a local.”

You step away, scrubbing wet hands across your face. “I'm glad at least someone thinks that of me.”

Anger ebbs away in the ensuing silence. Then, the staccato click of Dankovsky's polished shoes accompanied by the faint sough of cloth. A towel, threadbare and yellowed, held like a surrender. You acquiesce, and Dankovsky pointedly avoids your gaze as he dries your hands with studious care.

“If you're...unsatisfied, here, you could always come to the Capital with me, when I return. Thanatica, or whatever's left of it, could benefit from your...unique perspective.”

His right hand in your left, points of articulation lined up—palm, wrist, knuckle, rib—and a warm thrum under your skin, heady and thick, like twyre bloom.

“That's a generous offer, oynon. You're right, though, I am a local. My place is here.”

“Yes,” he says. “well. I won't try to change your mind, if you're—”

“You could stay.”

Sudden, startled offense and dazed uncomprehending, Dankovsky's expression caught halfway between a sneer and something terrified. Defensive, cornered.

“I—here? No, what would I even—? No, no, I can't.”

“If you say so. I'll probably try to change your mind. Not right now. Later, when it matters.”

Dankovsky's eyes are sharp when they meet yours, lit with keen, unmasked curiosity. The full weight of his attention pierces like a pin punched through a beetle's jeweled carapace for display. A bright spot of pain in your chest, velvet at your back.

“You won't,” he says, weight in his words so you could almost see them falling out, bitten clean.

Fondness blooms in you at the thawing unease with which he holds himself, like a man who has forgotten how to be warm coming in from the cold. Reticent in a reluctant, guarded way you recognize, of all people, from Murky.

“I'll try anyway.”

A thin, unsteady laugh, reedy and nasal, and thenhe softens, all at once, deflating slightly, like a weight borne across his shoulders has been lifted free from him.

“Just so. Dum spiro, spero.”

“I don't know what that means.”

“I think you know,” he says carefully, “enough.”

Clearly, like a memory in your mind's eyes you see yourself kissing him, again and again, harsh and then tender, then tenderer still—the copper of blood on your teeth, the hazy, cooling steppe at dusk, the terrible sweet fever smell you know so well—a rush, like wind, like falling from a height, and here, constant, the place where the parallel nets of your lives snag and tangle.

Which is to say: what follows flows with the ease of the inevitable.

Dankovsky looks up, you look down.

The two of you meet in the middle.

The kiss starts slow, chaste and unsure and so nice; a pleased, helpless little sound escapes from you before you can think to stop it, and you feel Dankovsky's lips part slightly to form some wry response. You take it as an invitation, licking into the heat of his mouth, fingers threaded in the short hair at the nape of his neck. He shudders against you and moans, hitched breath and a deep, dreamy sigh that resonates like struck steel, pools low in your gut, molten and dark. Grasping, his hands find your waist, slide upwards to reel you close and keep you there.

Against your palm, the rabbit-pace of his pulse. Yours, sheltered against it. Dankovsky kisses you in the dim, stale Stillwater, and you think, the left and right hand. You think, yes.

Understanding: you are separate things like two hairs on a bull's back are separate, his heartbeat ending where yours begins without distinction. In the shared breaths caught between you, it's easy to believe that you could choose this—one vast, drumming heartbeat, one fast, endless line, strung through you soft and whole, tying indelibly together what you've feared would be inevitably torn apart. That after loss, losing, knowing what might still be lost, you could carve a harbor in the quiet and keep it shielded because you wanted it enough.

Behind you, the clock chimes the new hour. The adrenaline pumping in your blood start to sour.

“Fuck,” says Dankovsky, teeth scraping your lip.

You swallow thickly. “Is it two already?”

“Three, I think.” Focused on a point past your shoulder, his hands still under your shirt and his eyes already terribly far away.

“Shudkher.”

“You have somewhere else need to be.”

“I—yes.”

He nods, stepping away. His warmth goes with him. Clearing his throat, righting his clothes, you watch his expression shutter closed and feel like a limb that has been too long in a cast, pallid and shriveled and weak. Regret twists its clammy thorns around your heart, but there's nothing you can apologize for, nothing that it would fix.

“I'm sorry,” you say anyway.

Dankovsky shakes his head. “What for? Unless you're responsible for this whole wretched plague I can't accept that from you. And if you are responsible I wouldn't accept it it anyway, my reaction would be the furthest thing from forgiveness. Besides, it isn't as though I don't have work of my own to do.”

He recovers your discarded smock from the floor, gives it a vigorous shake. You take it from him, and he promptly busies himself elsewhere while you redress, the conspicuous return to silence aching in your joints like the promise of rain.

Dankovsky breaks it first. “Here, can you carry this?”

A hastily-wrapped parcel of waxed canvas, secured with a pair of safety pins that recently-acquired instinct hones in on immediately—that girl by the Trammel had been looking for pins, and she'd had a fingernail coin she was willing to trade—so that full focus returns with the thing in your hands and a stiff, dour set to Dankovsky's shoulders, the pull of his mouth. Unreachable, resigned.

“What is it?”

“My side of our bargain.” Hesitant, almost amused. “You didn't think I'd try to rescind our deal just because you can't stay for tea. Tell me you'll remember to eat it before it spoils.”

“I'll do my best.” Shifting aside bundles of twyre to tuck the food into your bag, as if you won't be tearing it open again as soon as you're outside.

“See that you do. I...be careful out there, Burakh.”

“You too, oynon.”

A fluid moment, blood pulled through the chambers of a heart, singing and open like the bare vein of Mother Boddho at the base of a tree. Pregnant with the promise of movement, the exposed unspoken, a restlessness that settles, itching, into the red of your marrow.

You wonder if Dankovsky would let you kiss him goodbye.

“Did you need something else, or are you just going to stand there hulking behind me while I work?”

The skin of tension splits, relief trickling out in a thin line.

“I'm going, I'm going, no need to force me out.”

“As if I could.” The formality of irritation over unmistakable affection.

You reach out and take his hand. Dankovsky watches warily, frowning as you peel back the edge of the clean black glove, but makes no move to stop you. The bare cradle of his palm still smells faintly of leather when you curve towards it, pressing your lips against the skin.

Dankovsky's eyes don't leave you even after you release him, fingers curling closed.

“Warmth,” he says softly, “yes, I see.”

[kylo-hen]

The Milk Man

A/N Hello I wrote this while I was in a Sackler mood yesterday at like 4 am and its the first actual smut I’ve written so bare with me! There is quite a bit of build up because for some reason I love establishing characters. It’s also vaguely  plus sized!reader but not strictly! Anyways, hope you enjoy & my inbox is always open for requests/feedback.

Adam Sackler x Reader

Summary: You run into an intense man in the dairy section in the dairy isle one Saturday Morning, and by Saturday Night he’s in your bed.

Warnings: SMUT! Spanking, name calling, Oral (F receiving), hair pulling, longer build up, and oat milk.

    Living in New York has its odd challenges here and there. There aren’t dishwashers in unit, rent is the price of one’s soul, people were colder, and grocery shopping was a drag. This Saturday morning was supposed to be relaxing, no work, no designs, no awkward booty calls from dudes I met in the club a moth ago looking for some action. It was all looking up until I looked in my fridge and remembered the Wednesday ritual was pushed back because of a meeting.

     With a groan I resigned myself to the reality that I would have to do some chores before I could allow myself the relaxing pamper day I deserved. Once I was out of my apartment, down a couple blocks, and at the grocery store I was relieved to know that on a Saturday morning it was pretty empty. Only a couple people that really just ignored each other as they passed in the cereal isle or the small produce section.

     It was an overall normal trip until I made it to the dairy section. There in front of the large selection of milk stood, what I could only describe as, a smoldering giant hunched over a comedically small phone.

    Usually in this kind of situation I would let them be, but he just happened to be in front of the only brand of Oat Milk I actually like, so it seemed like I would have to wait it out. This dude, however, was not one to mind social cues. After what felt like five minutes of awkwardly waiting off to the side for this dude to get the message and move on from the last bit of the store I needed before I could get on with my day, I decided he wouldn’t move without a nudge.

     “Ehm,” I cleared my throat softly, hoping that would alert him to my presence, “Excuse me.” The man barely grunted, acknowledging I was there but continuing to frustratedly channel into whatever he was doing on his phone. “Excuse me?” I said louder, hoping to get a civil response.

    “What the fuck do you want?” He finally snapped at me, actually turning to look at me. That was also the first time I was able to see him fully. The man was hot, I’ll give him that much. His tall frame matched by solid muscle, a tasteful amount of facial hair that suited the intense features, and now a scowl. A scowl that was presently pointed in my direction while I ogled at him. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded again; this time much harsher. I took a step back, not really expecting this full-bodied giant to be yelling at me on a Saturday morning in the grocery.

    “Fuck,” I muttered to myself trying to dip into some of my confidence I gained in the years living here and finding it much harder to let his anger flow off my skin as it usually does. “I’m- fuck- I just need some of the oat milk and you-“ I rambled on but stopped at the sound of a deep sigh from the man in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ I abruptly turned, figuring the milk wasn’t even worth it anymore. The experience spoiled any hopes for a peaceful day, and the faster I made it back to my apartment the faster I could wallow in the new mood crashing over me.

     “Wait, shit!” I heard from behind me before I felt two large hands brace my shoulders. One thing the man didn’t expect was for my self defense lessons to kick in the second he grabbed me. I swung my elbow into his stomach, well because of his height it ended up being more of an elbow to the man’s balls. As I turned and backed away from him, I noticed in his hands he had the milk I was looking at earlier. Shit fuck fucking shit fuck! He was trying to give me the fucking milk!

    “Oh my god, I’m so sorry fuck, shit!” I moved to help him stand up, his face beet red a twisted up as he processed the pain, I unintentionally put him in.

    “Fuuuck,” he groaned out while he took some deep breathes, “I, fuck you’re a good shot… I just wanted to give you the fuckin’ milk.” He muttered out, still mostly bent over. Guilt washed over me in waves. I just attacked the poor guy trying to give me milk, even if he yelled at me earlier. Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that. My body heated up in shame, burning from the inside out, hoping that I could just melt within my own skin. The day only getting worse by the minute, I prayed that I would get to my apartment in peace so I wouldn’t cause any more damage.

    “I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again, not being able to emphasize it enough, as he began to recover more and more, and stand taller but not his full height, “Thank you for the milk.” I said still feeling the dark pungent shame in my chest. As he stood up more and more, he handed me the milk.

    “Don’t-“ he breathed sharply, still regaining his footing after being in pain, “Don’t apologize kid.” He muttered the name out at me and I wondered how old he was suddenly, or how young I looked trembling in the middle of the grocery store. “I was a dick.” He breathed and straightened fully, towering over me.

    “No, no, “ I denied his apology, shocked that he wasn’t pissed anymore, “I shouldn’t just go around attacking people, you didn’t deserve that.” I took the milk that I realized he was trying to give me still.

    “Nah, don’t sweat it kid,” again with the fucking nickname, oddly enough it lit a fire in me somewhere I hadn’t felt in years. “I should’ve known better than to just grab a lady.” He smiled at me, chuckling at his own joke and I smiled with him. His moods sending me for a bit of a loop, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle myself.

    “I still feel bad,” I admitted to him, he tilted his head curiously, “could I get you a cup of coffee or something?” I offered, hoping that he wouldn’t be too offended by the offer. Something about this man was drawing me in, his effect leaving me wanting more and more. What the hell is going on with me today?

   “Oh, I don’t drink coffee.” He stated, rejecting me bluntly and with that statement. The shame bubbled hire a fire burning in my cheeks whether he can see it or not I was embarrassed. Another time I put myself out there, thinking I read a situation one way, and it going very differently. My eyes suddenly very interested at the floor rather than the attractive man before me. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, “Not, I don’t drink coffee but maybe we could get lunch or some shit?” he offered with a cocky smile.

    My eyes snapped up to meet his, a warm feeling that for once wasn’t shame flooded my veins, I smiled at him in return, “Yeah we can get lunch and shit.” I replied easily, proud of myself for regaining some of that confidence I usually held. But then I remembered where we were, and that I had a cart full of groceries I needed to get home, it seemed he was coming down in the same way. “Actually…” I trailed off, not knowing his name.

    “Adam.” He answered and shook the milk carton playfully in lou of my hand, “Adam Sackler.” His crooked teeth poking out through his smile making my heart pound faster in my chest.

    “Adam,” I hummed, testing out the way his name felt on my lips. It felt like they were always meant to say his name. “Since you don’t drink coffee, which seems sac religious to me,” I allowed myself to flirt with him, testing the water, “And I’ve got a shit ton of groceries to put away, what about dinner tonight?” I asked.

     He laughed, unabashedly checking me out, my chest tightened hoping he liked what he saw, “Fuck yeah, dinner sounds great.” He replied confidently, boosting my confidence.

    “Alright Sackler, it’s a date.”

    After exchanging numbers, into his comically outdated flip phone, we decided to meet at the grocery store before dinner. I rushed home to clean my apartment, a girl can be hopeful, and get ready for any outcome of the date. It had been months since any person had given me any romantic indication, dating apps had long since run dry and I was tired of having to explain my size to people before they met me. Rarely after meeting someone, in real life, had they shown as much interest that Adam has shown me in the last hour. That meant I was hopeful and hope was a dangerous game for a girl like me.

    By the time it came to meet up with Adam I was a nervous wreck. My brain kept trying to convince me of the worst-case scenarios as I made the walk to meet up with him. All of those thoughts seemed to fade to black when I saw him. He was dressed casually, as I was as well, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me approaching, he perked up from where he was leaning and met me halfway.

    “Sorry if I’m late, there was a man trying to save the turtles outside my apartment and I’ve already out run him twice so he’s out for blood.” I joked when he was finally close enough to me. He laughed at my ice breaker, and I thanked all the powers at play that he had a sense of humor, he was shaping up to be quite a catch as long as his mood stayed up.

   “Don’t sweat it kid, I got here early anyways. Fuckin’ in my bones at this point with acting and shit.” He grumbled the last bit as he flailed his arms about. An actor? I’d never actually been on a date with an actor before, I mean with there being globs of them in the city for Broadway and whatnot. I always assumed they were stuck up about looks, and if anyone could be Adam was definitely a hot enough actor to be picky.

    “You’re an actor?” I asked coyly, hopefully digging deeper into the mysterious moody man.     “Yeah, also do some other shit.” He answered vaguely which only drew me in deeper to the mystery of this man. Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck is he so hot? “I know this diner just a couple blocks that way, does that sound good?” He asked considerately, and in that moment, I swear I could marry him.

    “Fuck yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about, Lou’s is a fucking gem.” He responded with a grin, wide and unabashed, that made my heart flutter. But even when I made my way that direction, he kept his gaze on me, not in a creepy way but in a refreshing way. He acted like if he didn’t take all of me in now, that I would disappear forever, or that I would have been a figment of his mind. When I looked back at him a moment of sadness crossed his features, maybe it wasn’t sadness, maybe it was fear. He looked so young for just a split second, and I saw him, I really saw him.

    So instead of saying anything I simply reached out and offered my hand, and he grabbed it. With that we began walking back in the direction of my apartment on the way to the diner, and throughout the walk we talked about meaningless things like the mean lady that lives in his building to his morning run routine. I kept it light, trying to stay away from sticky topics before we sat down, but I also wanted to actually know who I was going out with.

    Once we were seated, the games began. Adam and I ordered before we got into a grittier subject matter but instead of just asking, Adam wanted to make it more fun. So, like middle school girls at a sleepover, Adam suggested we play truth or dare.

    “Truth.” I stated with no hesitation, what could he even dare me to do right now? It’s not like anything juicy could happen while we were in public.

    “Oh, come on, you scared of what I could dare you to do?” He taunted at me, still flashing his signature crooked grin.

     “I’m giving you an opportunity to ask me whatever you want Sackler, use it wisely.” I goaded him testing his waters, watching his reaction to see if he was game. His eyes trailed down to my shirt. Bingo, he’s interested.

    “Alright Kid, when was the last time you got laid?” He went straight out of the gate with a sexual question. The longer I spend with him the more apparent it becomes that Sackler might be a little sexually deviant, that thought only escalated the fire burning in my belly.

    “It’s been about six months since I got laid,” I started, “But about a year since I actually, let’s say, enjoyed getting laid.” I clarified, feeding into the building sexual tension.

    “Hmm, that’s a crime,” he responded, trailing his eyes over every part of me visible across the booth, “They should be punished for leaving a woman like you unsatisfied.” He murmured, leaning forward tracing a finger along one of my hands placed on the table. Every light touch, even if it looked innocent, felt dirty and drenched in the want I had for this man.

    “Truth or dare Sackler?” I angled my torso to him so he could see down my shirt, I could see his reaction, his eyes start to glaze over, his mouth open, ready. I had never been with a man so openly affected by me and at every move I took the opportunity to tease him.

     “Fuck, Truth.” He said, not really paying attention to what he responded with but more paying attention to the parts of myself I was revealing to him.

    “What do you think of me Adam?” I asked softly, some could even say sensually, as I retracted my hand and my body, ripping away the points of contact that he was latching to physically and visually. He suddenly retreated his stance as well, looking me in the eyes to see a knowing smile already dancing across my features.  He groaned playfully, knowing he played right into my hands.

      “Fuck, kid, what do I think of you?” He asked redundantly, “For starters I think you’re the biggest fucking tease and if we weren’t in public right now, I’d put you over my knee and punish you.” He began, speaking in a low threatening tone. Every word, every syllable, every fucking letter sent a shockwave to my core, shaking my resolve and tumbling every other instinct down. I let a soft delicate whimper, only loud enough for him to hear, pass my lips as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to take in what else he was saying. “You’re a tease, but you’re also fuckin’ gorgeous.” I snapped my head open, not expecting a real genuine compliment from the sexual haze we were in.

    “What?” it slipped out of my lips before I could really do anything about it.

    “Kid,” he began, by putting his hand on top of mine and staring so far into my soul I felt like I was naked in front of him, “You’re so fucking beautiful, like I- I saw you this morning and fuck I think you might actually be perfect and fuck! Like even if you’re not, you’re better than that.” He said and I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt like this, maybe never. He was so different, and intense, but funny, and God I want to sleep with this man, but I also want to cook dinner with him and see how he likes his eggs, or what his favorite book is, and who hurt him. I want him, and he wants me.

    “Thank you,” I began, getting a bit shyer under the smoldering chestnut eyes, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me gorgeous before, or if they have, I can’t remember.” I explained, trying to brush it off as a joke, but he doubled down.

    “They must be blind kid, or stupid.” He chuckled to himself, “Probably fuckin’ both.” He smiled, and I smiled back, bursting at the seams, but before I could respond our waitress came with our food.

    The spell we were under before we got food was somewhat broken when we were eating, returning to the more casual atmosphere, talking about our jobs and whatnot. He was really interested in knowing more about my job which made me feel almost as special as before the food came, but I kept it to surface details for now. Adam had a lot of weird habits from what I could tell, he cursed like a sailor, and he got super intense then switched back to normal out of nowhere. Yet, despite all the odd facts this man drew me in every time he opened his mouth, he had me on the edge of my seat constantly. Throughout the meal I couldn’t help but wonder, what’s going to happen next?

    When we both finished our meals the tension from before began to seep back into the conversation in doses. By the time the waitress returned with the check it was pretty clear Adam was ready to get out of there, and I wasn’t much farther behind. While Adam went to fish for his wallet, I threw enough cash out on the table to cover both meals, not wanting to linger for change. Adam looked like he was going to protest, but I just offered my hand out to him.

    “I asked you out,” I explained, leading him out of the restaurant and back on the sidewalk. “Its only polite I pay since I invited you out.” I turned to him and realized he was much closer to me than expected. He took a step closer to me and his long shaggy hair began to cover his face.

    “I guess I’ll just get it next them then kid.” He offered with a smile and I looked away, feeling an excitement bubble through me for more. “We never did finish our game.” He said not teasing anymore, I looked at him and pondered for a moment before answering his unspoken question.

     “Dare.” I said confidently this time, leaving him to smirk down at me in pride. He puffed up his chest and moved even closer. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me but just before he allowed our lips to finally meet, he stopped.

    “I dare you to kiss me.” His gruff tone sending my nerves haywire, a chill running down my spin at the command. His eyes darker than I had seen them, only balanced by the smirk on his lips daring me, goading me to follow through. The final straw was the sensation of his hands settling heavily on my waist, keeping me steady and sure as I surged forward and planted my lips on his.

    From there he wasted no time gaining access to my mouth and invading each of my senses one by one.

    Touch; the feeling of his tongue languidly pushing against mine, fighting a war for dominance and winning without hesitation. His hands finding themselves roaming over every point of my body, and mine deeply nestled in his hair.

    Sight; the possibilities of what comes next floating by in my head in vivid detail. The sheer number of ways this encounter could finish, all unbelievably tempting.  

     Sound; the deep velvet groan from his dulcet tones when I tugged on his chestnut locks, the whimper that snuck out of my mouth when his hands made home on my backside.

    Smell; the dark woodsy pine notes of his cologne mixed the sweet vanilla of my perfume creating an intoxicating scent.

    Taste; nothing I’ve had in my life could compare to the taste of Adam on my tongue, the feeling of wholeness only grew. My wanting grew with it, wondering if Adam tastes good now, what other perverse acts would taste even better.

     Eventually the heated kiss broke, and the depths of Adam’s eyes told me everything I needed to know in that moment. “My apartment is just a block that way.” I spoke breathlessly, pointing behind us in the direction the night would take place. He threw his head back with a groan, a sight that sent shockwaves of anticipation through my body and to my center. He nodded his head furiously.

    “Fuck yeah kid, lets go.” He spoke, pulling me along with my hand to head in the direction of my apartment. By the time we made outside my apartment and pulled out my keys Adam sprung into action, pulling my back to meet his front allowing me to feel the full effect I’ve had on him throughout the night. His errection dug itself into the curve of my behind and suddenly I realized just what I would be dealing with for the night. Adam Sackler is fucking hung.

    His kisses trailed up my neck, his hips grinding into my body and the noises he was making were borderline pornographic. The task of opening my door was lost as I allowed myself to lean back into the pleasure, he was giving me. His hand trailed down my arm slowly as he sucked on a particular spot behind my ear that made my knee buckle in bliss. His hand wrapped around mine, that was still holding the keys, and raised it to the door.

    “If you don’t unlock that door now, I’ll fuck you in the hallway.” He threatened, no doubt in my mind he would follow through with the threat. I quickly refocused on getting my key in the door and getting this man inside.

     As soon as the door was shut, he had me pressed against it, mouth pushing against my own once again, but now his hand travelled under my shirt kneading my breasts in his large sturdy hands. I reached, clawing at his shirt to come off as he unclasped my bra from the back, which only succeeded in turning me on. Once his shirt was removed, he made quick work of mine, stopping only to marvel at the sight of my topless body. He stared for just a moment too long, doubt flooded my veins and my throat tightened at another failed encounter where someone didn’t like what they saw.

     Just as I resigned myself to my own fate, reaching down for my shirt, Adam took both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once again pushing me against the door and pinning me from any other means of movement.

    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded with a dark grit in his voice I had not heard before, his fire like anger only lighting the fire of hope in my belly once more.

    “I thought,” I started and as soon as I began to speak, he ground his erection into my core, effectively beginning my decent into madness. “Fuck, Adam that feels good!” I cried out rather than explain myself.

    “Come on little girl,” He teased breathlessly into my ear, obviously enjoying the act as much as I did, “Explain yourself to me.” He spit out all that came out of my mouth in return was a needy whimper and shuttered breath. It set my body on fire, turned my bones to jelly as he shifted to hold my weight for me.

    “I- fuck- I thought you didn’t like it.” I said softly, simply as the pleasure built with every thrust of his hips against mine. My back arched as he slowed to a stop, my eyes shooting open to see him looking down at me with furrowed brows.

    “You thought I didn’t like your pretty little tits huh?” he looked down at me, and I nodded softly, shyly up at him and his eyes softened slightly. He made the move to prop me up against the wall and move his body down. He kissed his way from my jaw down to my chest, finally settling with both his hands caressing my breasts. “You have,” He punctuated it with a small suck on my chest leaving a hickey a few centimeters above the nipple, “The most,” He took his sweet time worshiping every square inch of my chest, “Glorious tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” Finishing it off with an intense attachment to my nipple that sent earthshattering shockwaves throughout my body from the first real contacted pleasure Adam had given me all night.

    “Please, baby girl,” he murmured against my tits as he moved further down my body, “Let me eat your sweet little pussy.” He spoke, the dirty message matched only by the lewd and carnal tone he spoke with. Before he could anywhere with my pants, I took his hands and began leading them to my bedroom, which wasn’t too far away.

    He followed like a lost puppy trailing its owner, looking at me with wide and hungry eyes, taking in every movement my body made. As soon as I laid back in the bed, he made quick work of my pants, pulling them off with my underwear in one swoop. I let him handle me however he wanted and he moved with swift expertise that had my core drenched by the time he was done.

     With his hands stabilizing my hips, keeping them pinned to the bed, he sat between my legs admiring the sight laid out before him. He smirked at my disheveled appearance, trying desperately to hold on to my sanity and he hasn’t even laid his hands on me. Suddenly his tongue was on me, taking one long stride of my core before focusing on my clit.

    “Fuck yes!” I shuttered out when he brushed his tongue in a zig-zag on my clit before detaching with a sadistic chuckle. He explored every part of me, places no man had ever considered now have me careening towards the pit of bliss at lightning speeds. He took his time prodding at my hole while swiping his nose at my clit and in that moment, I swore no one was better at this than Adam fucking Sackler. My hands twirled themselves into his hair tugging harshly, making him pause for his own pleasure. Only then did I notice his gyrations on the mattress himself, which sent my mind into an overdrive of pride and arousal.

     “Your pussy tastes so sweet for me baby girl.” He hummed smugly into my pussy, the vibrations bringing me that much closer to the edge. He looked up at me, watching me fall apart as he brought his hand to my entrance working in a finger, beginning to stretch me out for him. “Your pussy’s tight, that for me?” He spoke, knowing I was way too close to orgasm for me to respond with anything but whimpers of his name mixed with any expletive that comes to mind.

    “Adam,” I called out, tightening my hands in his hair, trying to signal him for more. “Please!” I cried out, his pace slowing to a teasing momentum before he added another finger without warning. My head tilted back, losing all sense but the sense he was feeding me through his ministrations. I was teetering a dangerous ledge and with every thrust of his fingers he brought me to the edge. He took one last thrust of his fingers hitting the deepest part of me, paired with his tongue swiping my clit and the damn burst within me.

    Euphoria was flooding my system; I was floating in orgasmic bliss surrounded by nothing by the feeling of Adam bringing me through my haze and the smell of sex mixed with his cologne. After what felt like a lifetime of bliss, I felt him begin to kiss his way back up my body, taking special care of my stomach, sucking hickeys along the way.

    “You’re so good at that.” I murmured, still coming down from my high. He chuckled into my neck before coming up to my face and planting a big kiss on my lips. I immediately responded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing him flush to my own body. I could taste myself on his lips, his facial hair still coated in a layer of my cum, which only added to the kiss. “Adam, I need you to fuck me.” I said as I broke the kiss. His eyes lighting up again like in the living room, he moved away from me to finally take off his pants.

    “Condom?” He asked as he stood in his boxers, outlining his prominent erection pulsating in need. I only shook my head, moving to the edge of the bed where he stood to palm him over his boxers.

    “I’m on the pill.” I whispered seductively in his ear, he nearly doubled over in pleasure once the statement registered in his brain. He wasted no time taking my hips and twisting me around so I was on all fours before him. A deep feeling of butterflies reverberated in my stomach as I arched back into the hands he planted on my ass. He let himself groan at the sight of me before him once again, this time he had his hand moving over his thick cock.

    He rubbed the head of his dick over my pussy before catching it at my hole and pushing forward. The sting of him stretching me was not lost on him as he braced himself around me, caging me into his dick. He hissed as I clenched around him, trying to accommodate the difference. “Fuck your pussy’s so fucking tight you’re gonna squeeze me out.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, waiting for my signal to go ahead. His dirty comment only helped relax me, sending me spiraling in euphoria.

    “Adam, I need you to move.” I whined out, desperate for the friction he was made to bring me. He pushed farther and farther in until he was buried at the hilt. Both of us shuddered out, he filled me to the brim, his body made for mine in ways I had never felt before. Suddenly he pulled back and slammed back in with a deliberate force, landing perfectly on my G-spot. I cried out his name, the only thing I could remember at this point.

    “Yeah, yeah that’s it,” He praised my squeals of pleasure, “Say my name you fucking whore.” He spit out making my pussy clench around him in absolute pleasure. The way his hips slammed against mine, the way his hands groped at the cheeks of my ass, mixed with the things coming out of his mouth sent me into another dimension. “You like that you little slut? You like when I call you dirty little names?” He prompted me, adding a harsh slap to my ass to punctuate his thrusts.

    “Yes!” I cried out, burying my head into the sheets, letting Adam have his way with me exactly how he wanted. “Yes, I love being your little slut! Fuck!” He landed another spank, jolting me forwards on his cock. He retaliated by taking charge with my hips once more, grunting out insults mixed with praise.

    “Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum on my fucking cock you whore?” He stopped his thrusts, teasing me and my climax fading. “If you want to cum on my cock, fuck yourself on it.” He demanded, his hands kneading and soothing the damage he caused my backside already. I began rocking back on his dick, creating a similar rhythm to before. The harsh slaps echoed around the room and the lewd situation escalated my frenzy. “That’s its little slut, you’re fucking yourself so well.” He lost himself in the pleasure of it all, meeting my thrusts halfway.

    “Adam,” I moaned out, feeling the same euphoric anticipation building in my gut, I escalated the force trying to push myself to the place of bliss. “Adam, I’m going to cum!” I announced feeling the cliffs edge building and building. His hands trailing up my back and grabbing a fist full of my hair and pulling me flush against his chest, changing the angle so he was pushing deeper inside me.

    “Cum for me little slut.” He commanded, another hand wrapping around me to rub my clit in time with his thrusts. The bubble built higher and higher until I felt myself release for the second time that night. His thrusts continued, faltering as my body spasmed in absolute satisfaction, his grunts of pleasure travelling into my ear as he chases his own high.

    As his hips begin to falter their rhythm, he pushed into me for one last time before he let go and painted my insides with the ropes of his cum, marking me from the inside out. He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing us both on the bed, his cock still inside me, beginning to soften as he spoons me from behind. Our highs collectively lower and he is left trailing small kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder.

     “Where have you been all my life?” I joked once the atmosphere was returning to normal. He chuckled out, squeezing me into his chest even if I didn’t necessarily fit, and shifted his hips away from mine for the first time slipping out of me.

     He moved to look at me properly before saying, “Brooklyn.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, my inbox is always open!

[petra-deserved-better]

Prompt from @himebee-5 Rivetra list.

“Petra getting injured/aggressed and we see her trying to overcome the trauma with some help of Levi and the squad and her other friends (Nifa/Nanaba)

(There was also the other prompt about Petra having a panic attack on the other list that I combined with the above but I forgot to write it down sorry!)

Pairing: Levi x Petra

Cannonverse

2795 Words

——————————————————————————

It had been two months since the incident on their last expedition, one month since she’d been deemed well enough to return to active duty. She loved her job, she’d been desperate to get out of medical and back to work. It was what made her present situation more frustrating, this couldn’t keep happening, every time she promised herself it would be the last time and every time she was wrong.

Sooner or later someone was going to notice. The thought terrified her. They would think she was weak, that she wasn’t ready to go outside the walls again. They’d give her desk duties!

The thought of that alone caused Petra to take a few deep calming breaths, the worst had passed already but her heart was still pumping a little too fast, her ears ringing a little too loud.

She flushed the chain of the toilet cubicle she had been hiding in, just in case anyone was outside wondering what she was up to. She walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face. Her reflection in the mirror was a sorry one, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes swollen from panicked tears. She splashed more cold water on her face, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, if she waited just a few minuets more it wouldn’t be obvious she had been crying, she just hoped no one had noticed her absence yet.

The door to the women’s bathrooms swung open, and Petra cursed her bad luck as Nifa walked in, she paused when she saw Petra and cast a critical eye over her appearance.

“What’s wrong?” Nifa asked softly, but the spark in her eyes showed that the softness would melt away if she thought someone had wronged her friend.

Petra loved Nifa, outside of her squad she was the person she was closest to in the whole of the survey corps but that didn’t change the fact that she was the last person Petra had wanted to run into. Nifa was altogether to intuitive and right now Petra had a secret she needed to hide. It was part of the reason she’d been avoiding Nifa since she came out of medical a month ago.

“My injury was hurting a bit after training that’s all.” Petra said quickly, it was the first thing that had come to mind. She was a terrible liar so she’d gone with a half truth. Her injury did ache mildly when she trained now, the excruciating pain of the first week or two of her recovery was still fresh in her mind and so she thought the excuse was plausible.

Nifa arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at her and Petra felt her stomach drop a little, she knew Nifa wasn’t buying it.

“Is Captain Levi working you too hard, because I can tell Squad Leader Hange to speak to him if you want?”

“No!” Petra cried a little too loudly. “No, honestly he’s not.” She laughed a little self consciously.

“Are you sure? You know Hange isn’t scared of him like the others, she’ll tell him to lay off.”

“Please don’t.” To her dismay Petra felt a lump form a little in her throat as she spoke, she was a crier at the best of times, but at the moment she just couldn’t seem to keep her emotions in check. She cleared her throat and gave Nifa a weak smile. “Honestly, Captain Levi isn’t working me too hard at all. If anything he’s going easy on me which he never does.”

It was the truth, she’d practically had to beg him to let her return to active duty as early as he had. He barely gave her half the exercises he had before her accident when they were training and seemed to be always finding excuses to send her off on stupid errands instead of getting her to do laps or push ups with the squad. He’d even mentioned her staying behind when they went outside the walls again next month. It made Petra sick just thinking off it. He’d been there when the titan had grabbed her on their last expedition outside the walls, he’d seen the whole thing, he was the one who’d sliced the nape of the monsters neck seconds before it had been able to swallow Petra whole. He hadn’t treated her the same since, he was disappointed in her she was sure of it. Every day she lived in dread that he was going to tell her she couldn’t be part of his team anymore, and then what would she do. She had planned to devote herself to this fight, she was devoted to him, life without her captain seemed meaningless.

Which is as why it was important that her squad mates and her Captain never found out about these episodes she kept having. No one could know the truth.

“Petra,” Nifa’s voice came out softer than usual she reached out and squeezed Petra’s arm. “I just want you to know, if you ever want to talk about what happened on the last expedition I’m always here.”

“Thanks, but really I’m fine now. I Just can’t wait to get back out there.”

Nifa huffed, Petra was pretty sure she knew she was lying.

“Ok, just promise me you’ll be gentle with yourself, some injuries take longer to heal than others.”

Petra nodded and rushed out of the bathroom as quickly as she could, Nifa was kind but she didn’t know what she was talking about, Petras ribs were healed, she was fine, she just needed to get back out there and show everyone she could fight titans without making any mistakes this time. Then she would be ok, then she would be back in control she told herself. She just had to get through the next few weeks without anyone noticing how far from ok she really was.

XxxX

The titans hand was huge and it loomed over her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breath, she could barely think her heart beat was pounding so loud in her ears. The gigantic hand inched closer slowly, if she could have moved she could have got out of its way but she couldn’t make her body work, her arms and legs were heavy, tied down by invisible weights. She opened her mouth but she couldn’t even scream. White hot pain spread through her chest before the titans hand had even reached her. She could smell the stale stench of its breath. The pain in her chest grew worse, her throat ached as she desperately gasped for air that she couldn’t seem to get into her lungs. In a few short seconds it would be over, this was it, she was going to die! If only she could move, she just needed to…

Petra sat up in bed with a strangled cry, tears were streaming down her face and her heat beat was still wild in her ears, but she was in her room.

“I’m safe, there’s no titan. I’m safe, there’s no titan.” She closed her eyes tight and repeated the words over and over until she felt the panic begin to subside, only then did she dare open her eyes again.

She took a moment to anchor herself into her small room. She looked at each item carefully, her desk, her chair, her little trunk that contained her uniform and some civilian clothes, her boots sat neatly next to her door. She looked at the slim line of dawn light that peeked through the gap in the curtains that hung on her small window. She told herself over and over that she was safe. When she finally felt calm she cursed the fact that it had happened again. The attacks were becoming more frequent.

She was still shaken when she went to breakfast later that morning. The boys on her squad were more like brothers than friends. Usually she reveled in their lively banter but today it grated on her nerves, she felt jumpy. She told herself she was being ridiculous, she was in the middle of the Survey Corps headquarters, there weren’t going to be titans hiding round corners waiting to grab her. She needed to get a grip. Her squad was doing fitness training today and she could barely wait to get started. She knew that once she was doing her workout her mind would be focused and she would feel better.

“Hey Pet!” Oruo clapped his arm round her shoulder and Petra felt herself jump out of her skin. She knew it was an over reaction but she pushed him away harshly anyway.

“Jesus Oruo are you trying to give me a heart attack.” She snapped.

Oruo held up his hands defensively. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared.” She said sharply.

“Are you ok?”

Shit. She knew Oruo was often misunderstood by people because he had a tendency to show off, but Petra had known him since they were five and knew him better. He was loud and a little bit of a smart mouth but he wasn’t stupid. He’d been asking her if she was ok on an almost daily basis these days and although she knew him well enough to know his heart was in the right place she didn’t have the mental composure to keep telling him she was ok when she wasn’t.

“Get off my back Oruo you’re not my keeper.”

She knew she was being unfair but she was rattled, she was jumpy and she was scared if she tried to answer his question she just might tell him the truth. To make matters worse she saw Captain Levi entering the mess hall, she couldn’t face him right now either. She grabbed her coffee and stood up.

“I’m going to go get some laps in ahead of training.”

She left quickly before any of the boys could ask awkward questions.

XxxxxX

This was why she loved to train, she thought as she ran laps around the training room. Her mind was focused, the slight burn of her muscles as she ran was a welcome distraction.

She was entirely focused on the task at hand. That in the end was her downfall, she hadn’t heard anyone else enter the room, she thought she was entirely alone, when she caught sight of the shadow of another person in her peripheral vision it was her undoing.

Her brain jumped to the most unreasonable conclusion, there was no rationalising, no sensible thought. It all happened too quickly, her mind screamed one word at her.

Titan!

She was in the forest again, and she didn’t see the Titan in time again, and it’s hand grabbed her again squeezing the life from her, inching her towards certain death inside its stinking mouth.

No,no,no,no,no.

Her heart raced wildly, her hands tingled, her vision blurred, she could hear the sound of herself sobbing as if she was listening to someone else.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been when the panic finally began to subside. Slowly her surroundings came back into view. She’d some how managed to get herself to the corner of the room, her knees up to her chest her arms curled protectively around herself. As she blinked to clear her vision the sight nearly made her wish she was truly back in the titans grasp- There staring at her with his usual half lidded expression was the one person she hadn’t wanted to see, Captain Levi.

“So, how long have you been having panic attacks?”

Petra’s mouth fell open as she tried to think of an excuse, some explanation. But there was no way she could explain away what he’d just seen, her secret was out. She dropped her head back down into her knees in despair. She heard the Captains footsteps walking away. She waited for him to return. She wondered if he would bring Hange or just one of the nurses who worked in medical, she wondered if they would let her rest some more or discharge her from the military altogether. She felt thoroughly miserable.

She barely registered the sound of his footsteps returning till he was practically in front of her, she summoned up the courage to look up and to her surprise it was still just the captain. He handed her a glass of water and Petra took it numbly.

To her immense surprise the Captain then sat down on the floor next to her and handed her the handkerchief he kept in his pocket.

“Thank you.” She said quietly as she took it from him and wiped the trail of tears from her face.

“You should drink that.” He said indicating the glass he’d handed her.

Petra obediently sipped her drink.

“How long?” He asked again.

“Oh, well, um, actually…” Petra faltered, as she wondered how she could down play what he had just seen without lying. She knew without a shadow of a doubt she could never lie to her Captain.

“Tch, tell the truth brat.”

Petra smiled slightly, she wasn’t sure how her Captain always managed to make the insult sound like an endearment.

“Since the incident on the last expedition.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry Captain.”

The Captain let out a long sigh and Petra closed her eyes and waited for him to tell her the words she’d been dreading, that she was off the squad. Instead to her surprise she felt his hand pat the top of her head, just for a split second, so quick she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it.

“People don’t almost end up as Titan shit and then just carry on like nothing’s happened. If I’m honest your lack of reaction was starting to concern me.”

Petra sighed, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest now someone knew the truth, it would almost be worth the consequences, almost. She glanced at her Captain, he was looking off into the distance, it gave her the confidence to look at him more closely she studied his profile trying to remember every detail of his face for later. Her chest felt hollow at the thought of not working under him anymore, not seeing him every day.

He turned to look at her, the sudden directness of his gaze made heat rise in her cheeks and Petra had to look away. She swallowed and took a deep breath, her father has always told her there was no point delaying the inevitable.

“Sir, I completely understand if you want me off the squad.”

“There are teas that can help,” he said as if he hadn’t even heard her. “Of course they only help with the symptoms. You need to actually talk to someone about them, rationalise your fears in order to really conquer them.”

“Yes sir.” She replied quietly head still down.

“In the mean time you can still train as normal but I don’t want you going out on any expeditions until your better understand.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes met his, her heart skipping a beat barely allowing herself to hope.

“You mean I’m not off the squad.”

“Why would you be off my squad?”

Joy bubbled through her, she felt dizzy with relief, without thinking she threw her arms around her captain. She only recollected how completely inappropriate her actions where when she felt the Captain jump at the contact. She pulled back, the Captains eyes were wide with shock and if Petra had been feeling more herself she might have noticed the blush that coloured his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry sir!” She said clapping her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. “I was just so sure you wouldn’t want me within a mile of the squad when you realised how weak I’d become.”

He frowned at her. “You would never have made it back from so many expeditions if you were weak Ral.”

“Yes but I almost didn’t make it back last time and now I’m a mess.”

An almost imperceptible dark shadow passed across her Captains face as she spoke.

“Well just make sure that doesn’t happen again ok, that’s a direct order. Speak to Hange she’ll be able to point you in the direction of a suitable Doctor.” He said standing up.

“Yes sir.” She replied also standing. “I’ll go speak to hange now.”

She left feeling lighter than she had done in the last two months. She had no idea that she had struck terror into the heart of the man she left behind for the second time in as many months. First when she’d almost gotten killed by a Titan and second when she’d spoken of leaving his squad.

[ruthoakenshield]

Very Good Friends (Chapter 10)

Catch up here: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8]  [Chapter 9]

Reader x Henry Cavill, Reader x co-star named Dan

Warning: This tale is for 18+ readers ONLY!!!  Mentions of flashbacks: (rape, anal sex, non-con sex, abuse), severe bruising and injury, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, humiliation, and some fluff to make us feel better. Smut comes later on  in the story… Several chapters down the road… I promise!!!

If ANY  of the warnings upset you or make you uncomfortable, DO NOT read below  the cut! go find something else to read in this case.

If you are okay with reading those things then enjoy the tale below the cut.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. I do not own Henry nor do I have any personal knowledge of him besides what is common knowledge amongst the Cavillary. Any mistakes and typos are mine, story is not beta-tested. GIF I got from the tumbler search thingy.

**********

Henry takes the bacon out of the oven and shuts it off. Placing it on a couple of potholders on the counter to cool. Henry then goes to the stereo and turns the volume down so he can hear you calling if you need him for any help. He goes back to the kitchen and looks up a pancake batter recipe. He checks to make sure he has all the ingredients and then goes about mixing it up.

Once he has the pancake batter mixed he pours it into an empty squeeze bottle with a nozzle and then mixes up the eggs, milk and cheese for the omelets he pours it into the hot skillet and then puts crumbled bacon and the peppers, onion and garlic mix into it as well. He adds more cheese and then flips it closed.

Henry makes two delicious smelling and yummy looking fluffy omelets. He puts them on the plates with foil over the top to keep them warm. Then he makes the slider pancakes. He quickly has a dozen for each of you and figures that’s enough. Putting the cap on the bottle, he puts it in the fridge and then covers the two plates with foil and shuts the burners off.

Henry goes to check on you and finds you sobbing in the bathroom as you sit on the toilet. Henry’s smile fades when he sees you sobbing, and he rushes to you. “Kitten? Honey, what’s the matter?” he asks as he holds your face. “It hurts! It hurts so bad to pee!” you cry. He pulls you into his chest and he holds you. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m sure that area was inflamed by his activities too. Do you want me to call the Doctor and see what he wants us to do?” he asks you. You nod.

“Honey, are you able to pee at all?” he asks. “Yeah, it just really, really burns and hurts.” You tell him. “Okay, Sweetheart. You gonna be able to finish getting ready?” he asks. You nod. “I’ll try.” You tell him, tears still trickling down your cheeks. He wipes them away with his thumbs. “I wish I could take all this pain away from you, Honey. I know it hurts a lot. Don’t give up, though, okay? You give up, he wins.” Henry says, looking into your pale blue looking eyes. “I’ll call the Doctor.” He tells you. You nod.

Henry heads for the kitchen and grabs the pill bottle with the antibiotic in it. He looks for the phone number for the Doctor and calls it. The nurse answers and Henry explains who he is and why he is calling. “She is in a LOT of pain this morning and says it hurts and burns really, really bad when she pees.” He says.

She tells him to hang on and she will get the doctor. He gets on the phone and talks with Henry. He asks Henry to bring you back in right away, and they will check for a bladder infection. “If it’s hurting that bad and she has been taking the antibiotics as prescribed, she may need a stronger one if the bladder got irritated or infected. Sometimes it happens when there’s prolonged sex going on and bacteria gets into the urethra and makes their way to the bladder. Or the walls can become inflamed just from the constant friction, which can cause pain and burning sensations.

When you get here, have the nurse get me right away and I’ll check her and get tests run.” He tells Henry. Henry thanks him and hangs up. Luckily, he made sure you were taking your meds as prescribed, so he is pretty sure you’re gonna need a stronger antibiotic.

He goes back to check on you and you’re hunched over the sink trying to wash your face, grimacing from the pain. Henry sees you and comes to help you. “Here, Sweetheart, let me help.” He says. You nod and sit back down on the toilet, so it hurts less. He washes your face for you and brushes your hair. You sigh and thank him.

“Do you think you can walk, Kitten?” Henry asks. You shake your head. He comes over and gently picks you up and carries you over to the dinette. He gently sets you on the chair and then goes to get your breakfast. He places it in front of you with butter and syrup, water and your meds. He grabs his plate, and some OJ and sits across from you.

“Doc says to bring you back in as soon as we can. He thinks you probably have a bladder infection from Dan fucking you for so long. Said it probably irritated the walls of your bladder and such. Said he’ll run some tests and will probably give you some stronger antibiotics.” He tells you. You nod and eat your food.

“Thank you, Bear, for letting me stay here and for taking care of me.” You whisper. Henry remembers your throat is still sore and he gets up and kisses your cheek. ‘That’s what friends do, Sweetheart. They take care of each other.” He tells you as he pulls a travel mug from the cabinet. He heats up some water in the electric kettle and then puts a honey and lemon tea bag into the travel mug and pours the hot water into it. Henry lets it steep for a few minutes then pulls the tea bag out and tosses it in the garbage. He snaps the lid on the mug and hands it to you.

“Kitten, how did you sleep last night? I noticed you crawled in with me in your little burrito again. Did you have another nightmare?” he asked. You shook your head. “I just didn’t feel as safe laying on the couch by myself. So I came and curled up next to you. For once, I didn’t have any nightmares.” You whisper.

Henry gives you a warm smile. “Well, I’m glad you feel safe enough with me to do that with me, Kitten.” He tells you. You nod and stuff another piece of omelet in your mouth.

After a few moments, Henry asks you, “Kitten, would you like to try a self-defense class or drawing to help you cope with what you’ve been through?” You shrug. “I’m not much of an artist. I suppose we could go watch the two classes she recommended. I don’t know.” You mumble and look down.” “Honey, if you don’t want to do it, that’s okay. I just thought it would be good for you to see what some of your options are. Who knows, maybe something will spark an interest.” He tells you.” You shrug.

“I’ll call and see if we can come observe. A few of the classes for each. If you don’t want to try it, that’s fine. At least you had a look to see if it was something you might like.” He says. “Okay.” You tell him then take your meds with the water.

You shiver a bit and Henry asks if you’re cold. You nod. “It’s chilly in here this morning.” You tell him quietly. He nods. “Yeah. I’ll have maintenance come turn on the furnace today while we’re gone.” He tells you and grabs his phone.

Henry makes a few calls while the two of you eat, and Maintenance says they’ll be over in an hour to check the furnace and get it going for you. He thanks them then calls the two martial art studios the counselor recommended. They agree to come let the two of you observe a couple of classes to see if its something you’d like to try and tell Henry to just come when the two of you have free time. No appointment needed. He thanks them both as well.

Henry looks over at you while you are finishing eating. You look exhausted. Your skin is paler than usual, and your cheeks are slightly flushed. The bruising on your neck and chest is dark but is starting to turn green and yellow around the edges. He reaches across and puts a hand on your forehead. It feels a little warmer than usual and he suspects you have a low-grade fever.

Henry caresses your face, and you sigh and lean into his hand for a moment and close your eyes enjoying his touch. “We’ll get you through this, Kitten. I know you aren’t feeling well right now. Hopefully the Doc can figure out why you’re hurting so bad and get you something to make you feel better.” He tells you quietly. You nod, and he lets go of your face. “Come on, now, finish up and we’ll go get you dressed and head out.” He encourages.

More chapters to come…

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[hellowkatey]

What are Men to Rocks and Mountains? Chapter 3

Rating: T | No warning apply | Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze

Summary: Quinlan Vos has a good Obi-Wan bullshit-meter. Satine continues her pattern of not having fun at balls. Obi-Wan is trying his best.

Read it on AO3 Here

Chapter 3: Care to Dance?

Obi-Wan sits on the bench of the training room, pouring the cool contents of his canteen down his throat. Sweat is pouring down his back from nearly twenty minutes of sustained saber practice. Somehow Quinlan Vos, his sparring partner, is still swinging his lightsaber around in various loose katas. Obi-Wan is pretty sure his energy is endless.

"You could at least act like you are tired," Obi-Wan huffs, setting down the canteen.

"Against the Jedi Code, lying is," Quin mocks Master Yoda in a surprisingly accurate voice. Obi-Wan chuckles, standing and spinning his saber around with a loose wrist to prepare to re-engage.

"What form are you practicing?" Quin asks, knowingly eyeing the opening stance of Ataru. "Or should I say, supposed to be practicing?"

"I didn't realize I was sparring with Qui-Gon."

Quin snorts. "C'mon Obi, I'll do Makashi."

"You suck at form two," Obi-Wan deadpans.

"Exactly, maybe you'll have a chance."

Begrugedly, he shifts his stance to Soresu. The stance feels unnatural after practicing Ataru so vigorously-- mostly because Qui-Gon has just begun training him in more advanced forms. He is set on mastering Ataru to catch up to his peers like Quinlan who are already experimenting with other forms. His Kiffar friend has practically mastered Ataru himself but has been working on his Djem So the last couple of weeks.

Quin tips his saber down in the Makashi opening salute. It looks out of place, a formal duel beginning done by the unconventional and infamously roguish Jedi. Quinlan immediately steps forward with less grace than is supposed to be employed with this form, but it holds power all the same. Obi-Wan accepts his defensive position and catches the saber on his own, satisfied with the ease it blocks the blade.

Quinlan is, of course, unrelenting. He twirls, quickly performing a counter move that unblocks his saber and goes for another calculated hit. The movements remind Obi-Wan of the sparring session he witnessed while with Lady Satine, and a smile appears unwillingly on his face.

"What's that stupid look on your face?" Quin prods when they lock their blades once more. The green and blue blades light up either side of his friend's face, making his eyebrow wiggle more menacing than he meant it to be.

"Not sure what you're referring to." Obi-Wan decides to throw in some acrobatics, using the Force to launch him to the other side of Quin as he is going into a backswing. It adequately catches him off guard, making him go on the defense for a moment while Obi-Wan integrates a few more aggressive attacks.

They get into a stalemate, stalking one another from a few meters apart. "Either my chest is sending you into a conniption-- which, understandable, I have been working out." Obi-Wan glances down at his friend's bare chest, rolling his eyes. Or... it's something up there," he gestures his lightsaber at Obi-Wan's head.

"The first, obviously." Quin has always been known for being difficult to clothe. Obi-Wan can still remember the way their creché master's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she walked into him cutting the sleeves off his tunic-- unsuccessfully, as he stole a practice saber from the training room to do the job and failed to realize it was in training mode. It had the cutting ability of a flashlight. Quin claims he feels restricted in clothing and prefers to wear as little as possible. Obi-Wan has gotten used to it at this point, so Quin's half-clothed state didn't even register in his mind.

"I knew it."

They fall back into step. Quin's Makashi is beginning to look suspiciously like Ataru with every passing second, and Obi-Wan is aching to return to it as well. Remaining on defense isn't nearly as fun as getting to attack. The moment he gains the upper hand, he switches back to the more aggressive form, managing to draw a rare yield from Quin. Now he looks tired.

"I'll get you next time, Obi," Quin says as Obi-Wan extends his hand to help up his friend. Quinlan walks across the training room and unties his locks from the bun he had them strapped in. They fall in neat heaps to his shoulders. "Though I still am curious, what're you thinking about?"

"It was really nothing. Your horrible Magashi form just reminded me of something amusing."

Obi-Wan ties his tunic and slips on his outer robe. Quin has already thrown on a shirt and haphazardly secured his own robes when he appears at his side.

"What kind of amusing something?"

"Is it any of your business?"

"Things that make you look like a youngling with a crush are always my business, Obi my boy."

"Youngling with a-- you're crazy, Quin." Obi-Wan throws his bag over his shoulder but Quin trails closely behind him.

"I'll ask Bant."

"Go ahead," Obi-Wan says. He hasn't really told anyone about his current mission... he isn't sure why he is keeping it fairly guarded. He has a... feeling. Obi-Wan isn't sure if it's a good or bad feeling, but the Force is different as of late and he is still trying to figure out why.

"Interesting," Quin makes a point of rubbing his chin as though he has facial hair to stroke. "You didn't even tell Bant, then? Must be not a something, but a someone."

Obi-Wan makes the horrible mistake of stopping in the middle of the hall. Quin's eyes grow wide, making his yellow facial tattoo upturn like a giant smile. He is fairly sure the hyper Kiffar may start throwing a party.

"Obi, you dirty dewback."

"Quin, please--"

"You sneaky bastard. Who?"

He sighs. He hasn't even had the chance to figure out for himself what the hell is going on with him, but what Obi-Wan does know is that he left Lady Satine's home with a fluttering in his stomach. Why? He has no idea. The entire afternoon was practically a nightmare. He was stuck in a room with three Mandalorian teenagers who made making him as uncomfortable as possible a game. The only words Lady Satine and him exchanged were laced with sarcasm and a bit of underlying displeasure with one another, so why he found himself captivated is well beyond him.

"It's-- Well I have-- There's..."

Obi-Wan's sputtering just makes Quin laugh, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll keep the secret that you have the hots for someone unspecified so long as you promise to tell me about it when you figure out how to speak again."

"It's not the hots... Blast it, nevermind," he throws his hands up in defeat and they continue back toward their respective rooms. He can feel his cheeks flush red and he just hopes any passerby assumes from Quin's disheveled appearance it's from a recent saber training encounter. 

He steps into the shared apartment of him and Qui-Gon, finding his Master sitting in the living room, strolling lazily through a datapad. Qui-Gon glances up. "Obi-Wan. How was sparring?"

Obi-Wan drops his bag and goes straight to the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. "Good, Master. I beat Padawan Vos."

A hum of approval makes Obi-Wan relax, a wave of happiness blossoming through him. He drops tea bags into two mugs and carries one to Qui-Gon.

"Thank you, padawan."

Obi-Wan takes a seat across from Master Jinn, watching as the water slowly darkens with every passing moment. "Any word from Lady Satine today?" This time, Qui-Gon puts down his datapad and looks up with a look that Obi-Wan often equates with trouble. "Master, you know I hate that look."

"What look are you referring to?"

"You know the one."

"I have no idea what you could be talking about." He reaches down and picks up his mug, taking a sip despite it definitely not being done steeping. Dramatic bastard, Obi-Wan thinks, shaking his head. "I did hear from her this morning, actually."

A pause. For dramatic effect, it seems. Obi-Wan has a very strong feeling he is not going to like this. "It appears there is a fundraiser tonight that Lady Satine is to attend. We agreed it would draw too much attention for me to attend, as the invitees of the party are young politicians and leaders and I am not as young as I once was... But you--"

"Master don't tell me I have to go to another party."

"But you won't stand out among your peer group."

Obi-Wan sighs.

"Oh, and one more thing," Qui-Gon says, a sly smile crossing his lips. Okay, Obi-Wan has a really bad feeling now.

_____

The only thing that Satine can think about is how strange it all is. Strange that she is sitting here with her sister, cousin, and a Vizla boy waiting to leave for a fundraiser. Strange to see the accents on Nel's formalwear matching her gown.

They'd been spending a lot of time together the last few days. Nel is not as quiet as she initially thought him to be, and has really grown to be a pleasant companion.

He was showing her holos from Mandalore before the war. They were reveling in the good old days when suddenly Nel's eyes caught hers, and Satine realized they were sitting quite close. Close enough that his leg pressed against hers and one of his arms had found its way across the couch behind her.

Her heart raced, and she ever so slightly shifted her leg away to reduce the tension. And then his hand slid from the couch to her shoulder and she was sure she stopped breathing.

"The fundraiser," Nel said, his eyes watching her carefully. "Could I have the honor of being your date?"

She didn't think. How could she think with a man as attractive as Nel sitting so close? She just nodded, and he cocked his head to the side. He's waiting for a real answer, she realizes, and she clears her throat. "Yes, yes that would be lovely, Nel."

Then Bo-Katan came in, and though Nel didn't seem concerned with their position, Satine sprang back, severing any contact between them.

And now she sits next to Nel, his arm across the back of the couch behind her, and his accents the same blue-green color as her gown.

Bo sits across from them, outfitted in one of Satine's old dresses. It's an emerald green dress, structured through the torso and with a lightweight skirt and long billowing sleeves. She knew Bo would like it because it was a birthday gift from her father-- meaning the structured top is really a beskar chest plate, not battle-grade but enough to provide adequate protection. Leave it to Mandalore to figure out how to make elegant dresses with beskar. Satine's own gown is a newer model, instead of a chest plate the material is woven with beskar fibers. Much more flexible and can still stop a blaster shot. It's has a similar silhouette to Bo's A-line dress, but her sleeves are cinched at the wrists rather than hanging open.

Kira walks in, dressed up in her own beskar plated dress of a more simple design. "I believe the Jedi is on his way up," she says, causing Bo to roll her eyes.

"I don't understand why he has to come."

"The Chancellor was specific. I go anywhere public, I must bring a Jedi."

"I didn't realize the throne of Mandalore bowed to the Chancellor of the Republic," Bo says spitefully.

Satine lets out a frustrated huff. It's been like this all week. Things between them are fine and then suddenly she is reminded of Bo's short circuit. Anything involving the Republic, political tasks, and the Jedi seem to set her off. Satine feels like she's been walking on eggshells ever since she came.

"It's called diplomacy, sister. I meet the requests of the Chancellor and a good relationship is achieved that may be helpful one day. You must trust me. I know more about this than you."

The door opens and in walks Obi-Wan. Satine sees him and nearly double takes in surprise.

Gone are his ratty Jedi robes. Instead, he wears a dark blue formal tunic with a long dark gray outer piece that hangs down to his knees. His blue pants tuck into a pair of shined black boots. Even his hair seems to have been contained. His messy spikes now look soft and neat. The only indication that a Jedi still stands before her is the tiny braid that peeks out from behind his ear, though it is tucked away, that horrible ponytail, and the glimpse of his lightsaber strapped to a black leather belt, complete with silver accents. It's simple, modest, yet it flatters him.

Obi-Wan bows. "Good evening, Lady Satine of House Kryze, Lady Bo-Katan of House Kryze, Nel Raiko of House Vizla, and Kira Kryze of Clan Kryze," he says fluidly. Satine suspects he rehearsed it, though it rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

"Padawan Kenobi," she replies, bowing.

"Great, now we can leave," Bo says, standing and pushing past Obi-Wan. Satine shoots him an apologetic look, and Nel comes to her side.

"Ready?" he says, extending his arm out. Satine slips her arm in the crook of his elbow. When she looks up at the Jedi she realizes he looks quite uncomfortable, his eyes trained on her arm in Nel's. The realization dawns on her. He thought we were going together? She thinks back on her conversation with Obi-Wan's master. Yes, she did word it as him accompanying her...

"Padawan Kenobi, I thought you could be Kira's date for tonight. So you two could collaborate."

She glances at Kira who nods and walks next to the Jedi.

"Yes, Lady Satine, I think that is a splendid plan." He turns, mirroring Nel and holding out his arm for Kira. Satine holds back a laugh as Kira looks surprised by this gesture, but takes it nonetheless. Coincidentally, Kira's gray dress goes well with Obi-Wan's own attire.

"This should be interesting," Nel whispers as they head toward the lift.

"Oh, undoubtedly."

They arrive at the fundraiser in higher spirits than they left. To Satine's surprise, Obi-Wan was quite attentive to her cousin Kira. The entire ride he chatted with her, not about their duty as she would have expected, but just asking questions and getting to know her. From overhearing their conversation, Satine learned that Obi-Wan is also eighteen years old (but nearly nineteen), he is from Stewjon originally but considers Coruscant and the Jedi temple his home, and he and Master Jinn have been partners for five years now. How could this be the same standoffish boy she's encountered many times in the last few weeks?

With Nel and Bo engaged in their own conversation about who-knows-what, Satine began to stew. She isn't quite sure why her mood changed, but something about being treated rudely by the Jedi when he obviously is more than capable of being civil-- even pleasant!-- doesn't sit right with her.

Nel seems to notice the shift, pressing a hand into the center of her back. "You alright?"

"Of course," she says, not bothering to lessen the sharpness in her tone. Nel's arm drops. Immediate regret fills her. She reaches up and gingerly places her fingers near the crook of his elbow. He wings it out so she can slip her arm through. "Apologies. The last time I was at a large event my life was endangered."

Nel nods. She told finally him about the occurrence the day earlier. "Not to worry. I'm sure your shadows won't allow anything to happen to you," he says, glancing back at Obi-Wan and Kira. Nel leans in, his lips slightly grazing her ear. "Nor will I."

A shiver runs down her spine, followed by a blush she hopes her makeup covers.

The fundraiser is much smaller than the Senator Ball, though still as grandiose. It is a special event that Satine has genuinely enjoyed the last few years because it only invites young politicians. They raise funds for causes that affect younger generations and give the spotlight to up and coming movements. It is quite progressive and makes Satine feel at home with like-minded individuals. The banquet hall is beautiful decorated with lights and holos advertising the various causes that are being supported. One end contains gambling games where all the proceeds go to the winner's choice. The other end is a giant dance floor that is already occupied with dozens of occupants. The border is lined with various information booths with gifts and incentives to donate. She already has a few causes she is eager to learn more about.

"I think I will visit the booths first," Satine says. Nel looks down at her, his handsome face cool and neutral.

"I told Bo I would go with her to play a few rounds of sabacc. I am considered the best player among my friends."

Disappointment fills Satine. "But how will you know what cause you want to donate to if you do not learn about them?"

Nel shrugs. "Well, whoever you want to donate to, I will oblige."

She sighs. She has half a mind to directly ask him to stay with her, but she meets the eyes of Bo, who approaches them.

"I found a table where the players are quite inexperienced," Bo says with a grin. Nel detaches himself from Satine, stopping to give her a smile. His hand reaches up and grazes her cheek.

"Only for a little bit. I very much would like to have a dance with you once we get the fundraiser portion of the night out of the way."

Her chest flutters with excitement... or nervousness? dread? She isn't sure.

"Yes, I look forward to that."

He disappears into the crowd.

Satine sighs, turning to find Obi-Wan and Kira watching. She swears she sees the Jedi raise an eyebrow in the direction of Nel. Kira leaves Obi-Wan's side and joins her. "Shall we, cousin?"

They walk from booth to booth, hearing the pitches of the representatives. Once again, Obi-Wan surprises her. He follows closely behind, seemingly interested in the causes and asking a few questions between the sessions. His interest is genuine, she can tell, but his knowledge of politics seems to be lacking. She watches the way his face seems to fall when she starts talking about political procedures. He seems more interested in the idea of change rather than the process, which disappoints her. Ideas are great, but there is much that needs to be done to insight true action.

By the end of their circuit, they are spit out near the casino area. Satine looks over to see Nel and Bo still huddled around a sabacc table, piles of chips in front of them. She stares at him, hoping to catch his attention, but he doesn't look up.

"Lady Satine," she turns to see Obi-Wan with his hand out. "Would you care to dance?"

"I would," she says without hesitation. Her eyes go wide and Obi-Wan bows and turns to find a space on the dance floor. Satine leans back so she is close to Kira.

"Did I just agree to dance with Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Kira chuckles. "I daresay you find him amiable, Satine."

"Which would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity."

Kira places a hand on the back of Satine's back and gives her a gentle push forward. She sighs, catching up with Obi-Wan.

The music shifts and Satine recognizes the characteristic chords of the Sarabande, an Alderaanian partner dance. For a moment she panics that Obi-Wan is not knowledgable of this, but he lines up across from her, his stance correct for the dance.

The chords pick up, indicating the first step. Obi-Wan steps toward her, holding his hands out for her to take. She grabs them softly, and he pulls her gently toward him before they separate in half-steps.

"You know this dance," she says with a hint of surprise peeking through.

"Of course, I wouldn't have asked you to dance if I was to make a fool of myself."

She holds back a smile. They meet once again, his hand taking hers and they stand parallel to one another.

"Your clothes are... different than what I was expecting."

He glances down, suddenly seeming a little insecure. "Well, I told Master Jinn it wouldn't be appropriate to wear my robes... even my good ones as it would make me stand out. I borrowed these from another StewJoni padawan."

"So they are traditional of your home planet?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"They are nice."

He smiles, his youth suddenly returning to him. Satine hadn't realized until this moment, but what was striking her as different about Obi-Wan was how much larger he looked in these clothes. Broader. Like a young man rather than a boy in oversized robes. The attention that she usually gave to his raggedy clothes was suddenly focused on the bright blue of his eyes and the dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he smiled. I daresay you find him amiable, Satine.  Satine pushes back that comment, forcing it to not echo in her mind as it has been since they began this dance.

She glances toward the cards table and sees Nel still not paying any attention. Her mood dips. Obi-Wan spins her, allowing the quiet to fall over them.

"It is your turn to say something, Padawan Kenobi. I commented on your dancing. Now you ought to remark on the party, or the number of couples who obviously have no idea what they are doing." she says, her eyes watching two Mid-rim senators struggling to keep in step.

"Do you talk as a rule while dancing?"' His tone is light, but it jabs at her efforts to attempt to be civil with the Jedi. As he had been with Kira all night.

"No, no. I prefer to be distant and taciturn. It makes it all the more enjoyable, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan is quiet for a moment. She feels his grip on her hand slightly stiffen. The air around them suddenly changes. She can feel the tension build, causing her cheeks to feel warm.

"Then I shall oblige, Lady Satine. I must say, I am curious. Nel Raiko is your date, is he not?"

They reach the part of the dance where she turns, so her back is to Obi-Wan, relieving her of his sudden question. She swallows hard, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as they meet again.

"He is a childhood friend and has been quite supportive and lovely as of late. So yes, he is my date this evening."

"I see he is being especially supportive tonight."

They turn so they are parallel once again and Satine is relieved he can't see the tightness in her lips. It is a low blow. A valid observation, but not one that he has any right to comment on.

"To use one's skill in sabacc to support a good cause is an excellent way of support, I would think. Not that you would know, but charity comes in many forms."

"Not that I would-- why would you say such a thing?" he says, his calm demeanor giving way to an emotion that Satine cannot identify.

"I am just making out your character, Padawan Kenobi."

"And what have you discovered?"

"Very little." They fall silent. His face is hardened and his jaw set in a way that makes him look much older than he is. Much more imposing. They are standing, staring at one another while the music progresses, trailing toward the end of the song. Thankfully the final cord is played. Both of them bow to one another. "I have observed such different sides of you in such a short time. It puzzles me as to how you can genuinely be all of them."

The rising and falling of his chest slow as she sees in real-time him calming his emotions. He looks at her with apathy, which is more jarring than any anger he could have displayed. "I hope to give you more clarity in the future then."

He turns, leaving Satine alone in the middle of the dance floor.

A tap on her shoulder. She turns to see Nel, his eyes trained on Obi-Wan pushing through the crowd.

"Are you okay?" he asks, finally looking down at her. "It looked pretty... tense over here."

She lets out a breath, hiding her shaking hands behind her back. So he had been watching. She can see his deep frown as he tracks the Jedi with his eyes, even still. Is he... jealous? The thought nearly makes her laugh. Nothing in the world could make her want Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has nothing to be jealous of.

"Everything is perfect, now that you are here to dance with me," she says, holding out her hand. Nel's frown becomes a small smile and he takes her hand in his.

_____

Who would Obi-Wan run into as soon as he returned to the Jedi Temple than Quin? Of course. Even worse, his other friends Bant Eerin and Garen Muln sit in the windowsill with him. As soon as Quin sees him, he jumps up, his eyes wide. Right. I'm still dressed like a blasted politician.

"Obi, where the hell did you just come from? Out seeing a certain someone?" Quin says. This is exactly the attention Obi-Wan is not in the mood for at this moment.

"Nowhere and no one," he says coldly, just wanting to go hide in his room and meditate. He tries to push past Quin, but he grabs Obi-Wan by the bicep, his playful demeanor suddenly shifted to seriousness. Even Bant and Garen have gotten to their feet, staring at him with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He sighs, pulling his arm out of Quin's grasp. "I need... I need to meditate, Quinlan." He can't bring himself to look at Bant or Garen.

The use of his full name seems to catch him off guard enough that he releases him. Obi-Wan makes a mental note to apologize to him and the others later, but for now, he has two things on his mind: getting these damned clothes off and sinking into meditation so deep it rivals Master Yoda.

He takes off down the hall, leaving Quin, Bant, and Garen speechless and standing in the middle of the passage.

As soon as he gets in his apartment, Obi-Wan starts pulling off pieces of his outfit. How long did he spend tracking down that senior padawan to borrow these clothes? To look nice? To make his impact less obvious for Lady Satine's sake? He marches into his room, throwing them in the direction of his hamper. Now standing in just a plain shirt and his undergarments, he takes a deep breath, letting the Force surround him. He summons good feelings, using them to help push out the bad ones.

"Obi-Wan?" he distantly hears his name, but he ignores it for now as he sinks into a meditative pose on the floor.

It is not the Jedi way to be angry. To be affected in such a way. I release these negative sentiments to the Force.

It is not the Jedi way to be frustrated. To let the words of others, especially of those I have sworn to protect, to make me bitter. I release these negative sentiments to the Force.

The weight on his shoulders lessens and he relaxes.

It is not the Jedi way to take my emotions out on my friends. I shall explain my poor mood to them and apologize. I release these negative sentiments to the Force.

Maybe he will go see them tonight. They are likely still sitting out there discussing his strange behavior.

It is not the Jedi way... he swallows hard. It is not the Jedi way to... you know. I release these sentiments to the Force.