#me: what a pleasant evening i think ill just hang out for a few hours before downfall

[burr-ell]

On the subject of Vex's flaws, I think it's interesting to compare and contrast the conversations she has first with Vax and then with Percy in 1x63. Right before the episode break, Vax goes to Vex to talk to her about the title Percy gave her and tells her that while he appreciates that it made her happy, to him it's like "gilding a lily" and that she's "already perfect" to him. She insists her strength is an act and he immediately replies "bullshit".

Immediately after the break, Vex seeks out Percy, and thanks him for the title and tells him how much it meant to her that he took up for her that way. Percy says a title is "mostly there to remind you you don't really need it" and "it doesn't change anything", and they have a brief discussion about the logistics of what her title means. He teases her that "I imagine you're eventually going to become very insufferable" but then adds that "you have to be".

Now on its face it seems like Percy's saying the same thing Vax is! But there are a couple of crucial differences. For one thing, the comments Percy makes about her becoming "insufferable" (and then that actually she should be) are clearly playful, but it's also an acknowledgment that she can be exasperating. Lighthearted it may be, but it tells Vex that Percy's not afraid of her flaws or put off by the ways she could potentially be annoying. For another, he openly admits that she doesn't actually have any land—the land isn't his to give; it's Cassandra's, as the actual ruler of the city. Percy's promising her what he CAN give her, with an honest explanation of what that is. Like with the come-from-money conversation, he's being both kind and objective. It's at this point where he says a title "doesn't change anything", and I think that allows Vex to see his gesture for the totality of what it is and make her own choice about what she does with it. It's like the arrows; he's giving her the tools to forge her own path, trusting her judgment.

Now I'm not at all hating on Vax here, but I do think Vex's conversation with him revealed some flaws in their relationship. Vax only emphasizes how Vex is cool and strong, and when Vex directly states that it's an act, Vax dismisses this and says he needs her to keep being strong. And he clearly means well! But it's a fascinating choice from Laura to go from that conversation and then talk to Percy the first chance she gets, and one of the things that says is that Vex does not trust Vax's judgment of her in that moment. He's her brother, and he just explicitly said she's perfect! Vex has, by this point, started to see her own flaws clearly enough that just telling her how amazing she is doesn't address the issue, and she's less inclined to trust the opinion of someone who does it. She wants to know that someone can see her flaws, assess her honestly, and still love her.

And the conversation with Percy shows Vex someone who looks at her and sees through her, who has seen and done terrible things and is clever and pragmatic and ruthless, someone who does his best to evaluate a situation as objectively as possible and someone who's striving every day to become better. And that person trusts her, wants to see her succeed, and gives her everything he can to make that happen.

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 2

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

series summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up. loosely inspired by the tv series one day!

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse, making out, titty sucking, blink and youll miss it dry humping (lmk if i missed something)

word count: 5.1k

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A/N: im so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter! im so sorry this took so long, this chapter was originally well over 8k so ive just decided to split it, which means the next chapter is pretty much ready maybe ill have it up by wednesday. thank you so much to everyone who interacted, hope you like this. [not beta read!]

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

divider credit @cafekitsune ! title of fic is from 'peter' by taylor swift.

Age 18

“i think that’s enough pictures, mum.” y/n held up her arms to shield herself from any more photographs her mother might take. she felt self-conscious enough already, grimacing at every picture, thinking how the flaws glaringly stood out. her parents thought she looked beautiful as always though, and wanted as many photos as possible to keep as memories of their daughter’s special night. only she didn’t want to believe there was anything so ‘special’ about it anyway.

she heard an impatient car honk coming from outside, just in time for her to make her exit. “let me at least take a picture of you and your date.” her well-meaning mother attempted, earning a whine from her daughter, “for the last time he’s not my date.” not really he wasn’t, they were just going as mates, nothing more, she reminded herself as she waved her parents a quick goodbye.

then why did her stomach flutter seeing aegon leaning against his irritatingly green, flashy sports car. taking a drag of his cigarette, his platinum hair was mostly gelled back, few strands allowed to fall to his eyes either fashionably or as a result of hurry. he was dressed simply, black suit and a white shirt. but seven hells did he wear the hell out of that suit, y/n had to admit. he looked neater than usual, the light stubble he usually carried had now been shaved off, his eyes didn’t look nearly as red as she was accustomed to. he even wore dress shoes, when truthfully y/n had been betting on him showing up in his usual jordans.

she couldn’t help but beam as she realised walking towards him, that all this effort he had made for her. aegon hadn’t even wanted to go to their senior prom. he’d said he would simply throw the after-party for the prom back at his mansion, where he wouldn’t be required to ‘come dressed as a penguin,’ in his words. the entire school knew about aegon’s famous ragers by now, and the night of senior prom was guaranteed to be the greatest ‘one-last-hurrah’.

it was y/n who had wanted to go, in order to live the full high school experience before they would be forced to enter the adult world after summer. and there was no one else she would have rather taken to prom. so, after countless hours begging and pleading (and some threatening), aegon finally relented. but his acquiescence hadn’t guaranteed to her that he would even bother following the dress code. yet, here they were.

she was going to comment on what a pleasant surprise it was to see him look like a ‘penguin,’ when she saw the look on his face. his eyes were suddenly alert and his mouth slightly agape, cigarette in his hand forgotten momentarily with his hand hanging still in the air holding it.

“what is it? do i have something on my face? on the dress?” she patted her cheek in alarm, before looking down at her dress. she’d chosen a simple black, satin dress that hugged her just right, pairing it with the deepest red lipstick she could find. she smoothened the front in anxiety, scared her high heels were going to make her trip on the fabric any second.

“no, it’s just...you look nice. very pretty.” her eyes focussed on aegon’s trying to gauge his expression, but his gaze remained transfixed on her figure.

“is it that shocking that i would look pretty, that you have to go and make that face?” she snorted. that snapped aegon’s attention back to her face with an eyeroll, “i didn’t mean it like that and you know it. you look good, would it kill you to just take the compliment?” her lips turned upwards at his words, “yeah i’m just messing with ya.” she tried to hide how the praise made her feel warm inside her chest.

“you don’t look so bad yourself, targaryen. look you’re even wearing the shoes and everything.” aegon grinned at the words giving a quick twirl to show off his full look. “who knew you had it in you?” she teased.

“had to step up my game. can't let my date outshine me, can i?"

date? the word rang in her ears. did aegon think this was an actual date?

“oh, please,” she tried to maintain a cool façade, seemingly uncaring of his words, “i've always outshined you.”

“only because i let you.” he claimed, flashing her one of those lazy half smiles of his that would make her mind wander to what else he was capable of doing with those lips—

she immediately shook her head to get that image out of her mind.

“got you something. well, technically mum got you something” aegon opened the passenger seat of the car, and retrieved from it a beautiful, very expensive looking bouquet. “she wouldn’t let me leave the house without flowers for my date” there it was, that word again, ‘date’!  she thought, astonished as she received them.

did aegon think this was a date? a date-date? was he expecting something? did she expect something? her mind started to race with a hundred things.

she had to clear her throat to bring herself back to the present, “these are beautiful, tell alicent i love them.”

“great, can we go now? i want to get the boring part over with so we can properly party later at my place.”

the prom itself ended up being less dreadful than aegon had been sure it was going to be. aegon spiked the drinks, and then proceeded to get his friends leon and martyn as drunk as possible. it didn’t escape y/n’s notice that aegon himself, was merely buzzed. she even dared to hope for a second that he was limiting his cups out of respect for her, and her very known hatred of his drinking himself into blackouts.

he remained clear-headed enough to laugh about and reminisce with her over their years at the academy. “no, i remember clearly, you’ve never once said sorry about making me fall on my first day.” y/n accused as she attempted to drink the very strong punch aegon had made for her. “and i remember very clearly, you came in my way.”

she narrowed her eyes at his blatant lie. “cunt.” he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at her drunken-vitriol. “and i think that’s quite enough for you.” he grabbed the cup out of her hands in spite of protests. “good gods, aegon targaryen preaching moderation? must be the apocalypse.” she nudged him playfully.

in that moment, smiling and laughing with her best friend, she couldn’t help but realise that this time of their life was coming to an end. come fall, they would be on different sides of the country.

y/n had been accepted at her first choice, sunspear university only weeks ago, but she hadn’t discussed it with aegon. he hadn’t spoken of his plans for university either but helaena had told her that their grandfather was using his pull to get him into the family alma mater, oldtown college.

any time she had attempted to so much as talk about life beyond school with aegon himself though, aegon would get irritated and cagey, eager to shut down any and all conversations about the future. then again she couldn’t blame him, for some reason her first instinct too had been to hide that acceptance letter from him.

yet as they stood there, she had a feeling that he was thinking about the same great uncertainty that lay ahead too. thinking, that their days of being by each other’s side like this every day were numbered.

“come on” he suddenly offered her his arms, getting a puzzled look in return. “you wanted the ‘full high school experience’ right? dancing at prom is kinda the main thing.”

she let him lead her to the dance floor, feeling her cheeks going red. he brought them right in the middle, and when he placed her arms around his neck, his own hands becoming placed around her waist, she couldn’t find a word to say.

couples around them were slow dancing to some song she couldn’t quiet place, and she couldn’t believe that aegon had willingly placed himself in the scene around them. this suit, the shoes, the dancing, the flowers – none of it was remotely close to his scene. yet she had barely heard him complain. she had to give it to him, he had been on his best behaviour because he knew how much the night meant to her.

“thank you,” she finally said, looking at him with adoration in her eyes. “for agreeing to come.”

aegon’s expression was unreadable at first. after a second he seemed like he was going to lean in towards her to say something, when his eye caught something behind y/n shoulder.

she turned her neck to see who it was and felt her heart drop down in her stomach.

cassandra baratheon, the most sought-after girl at school, her golden hair and confident demeanour were hard to miss. y/n looked up to see aegon was transfixed on the tight red dress she wore.

she felt his hands drop from her waist, “get you something to drink?” but he didn’t so much as look at his friend.

“sure” she mumbled, trying to mask her disappointment, but he didn’t wait for a response before he started walking towards the blonde.

she watched as aegon approached cassandra, his charm on full display. y/n sighed, tired of how predictable his routine was. she danced with a few classmates, trying to keep her spirits up, but it wasn’t the same without aegon.

after a while, she grew tired of pretending and slipped out of the ballroom, certain she wasn’t going to be followed by the only person she wanted to be with. she started walking in the direction of her home, too angry to think to call someone to pick her up.

the sound of her heels against the pavement and the chattering of her own teeth from the unexpectedly cold night couldn’t distract her from her woeful thoughts.

she should have expected this, she chided herself. aegon’s attention had always been fleeting, especially when it came to pretty girls. but it still hurt. she had hoped, maybe just for tonight, things would be different. at the beginning of the night he’d been giving her all his attention, and making her feel as if she was the only one who mattered in that room.

yet, he had to go ahead and ruin that, by chasing one more skirt to add to his long list of distractions from anything that could actually matter.

when she reached her house she was grateful her parents had long since gone to bed, not wanting to talk about her night.  she walked up to her room and changed into some comfortable clothes.

she curled up on her bed, but sleep seemed to escape her. she tossed and turned but she could not forget the look on her best friend’s face when he looked at cassandra baratheon, ignoring her. she couldn’t help but wish that the way his eyes trailed down her figure, the open lust with which he watched her, the desire that carried him away from her – she wanted it all to be hers.

it was perhaps the first time she had admitted it to herself. she wanted this, she wanted him and not just as a friend.

her mind then wandered to that one moment of hope she had not dared to let herself dwell on. the way his hands felt rested on her back, how he looked for a split second as if he were going to lean in to her, what might that have felt like if it had been allowed to go on? would he have kissed her? would his lips have felt as soft as they looked? would his tongue—

she didn’t realise when in the middle of all these wandering thoughts her hand had slipped down to underneath her shorts. over the cloth of her panties, she could feel a wetness building as she slowly rubbed the top of her entrance, her imagination building up the tension between her legs.

just as she was getting comfortable though, she got the fright of her life when she heard her window open. “fuck me!” she sat up straight on her bed, clutching her blanket in front of her chest.

she let out an exasperated breath at the now-messy platinum hair glinting in the moonlight, that she could make out even in the darkness of her room. she moved to get up and turn on the lamp next to her bed. the light revealed a slightly different aegon to the one she had left back at the dance, stumbling into her room.

his jacket now gone, his white shirt was untucked and the first few buttons had been left undone (one of them was missing, from what she could tell), the semi-open shirt allowed her to make out lipstick smears trailing his chest. his eyes were red, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to walk straight, told her he’d returned to drinking at his usual pace once she’d made her exit.

“what are you doing here?” she sighed, crossing her arms across her chest, both defensively and because her bra had been long discarded, which left the tank top she wore revealing far too much for her liking.

he almost looked earnest when he answered “came looking for you. you never showed up to the party at my place.”

“yeah, well i don’t like your parties” “sure you do!” he snorted

“no, aegon i don’t! i never have. i only ever come for you and i’m miserable the entire while, and you never notice!”

he looked hurt at her accusation, blinking as if it had never crossed his mind that she didn’t enjoy getting high and causing chaos as much as he did. that hurt quickly turned into anger of his own as he shot back.

“fine, even if you didn’t wanna come to the party, why did you leave prom so early? for weeks it’s all you wanted to do, going to prom. you dragged my ass there and then just ‘puff’ i turn my back for one second, and you’ve disappeared.” he sounded almost as if he felt abandoned, wounded.

“you seemed busy.” she cooly replied.

“busy?” aegon echoed, his brows furrowing. “i was just talking to people.”

y/n shook her head, her eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and frustration. “you always do this, aegon. you leave me for the first pretty girl that catches your eye.”

he shook his head as if y/n were being the unreasonable one here “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like?” she demanded, her voice rising. “because it feels like you’re always looking for a distraction. and tonight, i needed you.” her eyes burned as tears pooled in them. “it was our last night in school. it meant something.”

he flinched at her words, the truth of how much he had bruised her, cutting through the haze of alcohol. “i didn’t mean to—"

“didn’t mean to what? make me feel invisible?” y/n's voice softened, the anger giving way to sadness. “it’s like you don’t care.”

aegon stood there, steadying himself by leaning against the desk, looking deflated. “i do care, y/n. you’re my best friend.” she could tell he was trying, trying to make her see he cared, trying to be a good friend. the fact that he had left his own party simply to come look in on her, hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

but unluckily for him, y/n was tired of his constant trying when she knew it never led to any real change.

she took a deep breath, steadying herself. “we need to talk about something else, too. we’ve been avoiding it all year.”

aegon looked up at her, confusion and apprehension mingling in his eyes. “what do you mean?”

“college, aegon. you’re going to oldtown, and i’m headed to sunspear,” y/n said, her voice trembling slightly. “i’ve tried to bring it up, but you always change the subject.”

he looked away from her, fiddling with the rings on his fingers almost anxiously. “because i don’t want to think about it.”

“well too bad, because we have to discuss it” she insisted. “this is big. we’ve never so much as spent one summer break apart, you’ve dragged me to every family vacation and christmas dinner. but come fall, that’s over. you don’t think that’s important enough to even talk about? doesn’t it matter to you at all?”

“of course it matters!” he finally spat out, taking stumbling steps towards her. “i don’t want to talk about it because i know it’ll change everything.”

aegon’s eyes were glassy, his emotions threatening to spill over. “because you’ll be far away, making new friends, living a different life. you get to conveniently walk out on me and my fuck ups. i don’t want to talk about it because you’re leaving me.”

“leaving you?” the aegon that stood before her was shaking like a scared child, gone was the playful, laid back popular boy. for the first time that night, she could see clearly through him, the first time he’d allowed her to.

y/n moved closer, taking his hands in hers. “aegon, i could never leave you.” she promised. “you’re a part of me. distance doesn’t change that.”

“you say that now…” he mumbled, looking away as she caught tears running down his cheek.

“i’m not leaving you,” she repeated, more firmly this time, her heart aching for him. “we’ll find a way to make it work. i promise.”

“do you really mean that?” her hand reached out to his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “with all my heart,” she whispered. the vulnerability in his eyes was raw and unfiltered as he confessed “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t,” she assured him, putting her arms around him as she pulled him into a tight embrace. “we’ll figure it out, together.” she sounded sure, determined.

he clung to her, and she could smell the weed and cigarettes on his shirt, she knew that he wasn’t as clear-headed as he should have been for the conversation they were having. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, y/n.” he muttered into her hair. she smiled against his chest. “lucky for you, you don’t ever have to find out.”

as one of his hands trailed down to her lower back, she suddenly felt her shorts were far too short for her to be having company. his other hand started to rub at her side, his thumb brushing up against the side of her breast and lingering just enough that she knew he could tell she was bare beneath her flimsy cotton top.

they’d been standing in silence for a minute when he suddenly spoke up, “i’m sorry that i mess everything up, you deserved to have me there with you tonight.”

his hand had stopped right by her cleavage, causing her throat to dry up. “it was just a stupid dance.”

“yeah, but it mattered to you.” he brought his other hand to her ass, as he pulled apart slightly to look down at her. her breathing became rapid as she looked back up at him.

in that moment, the tension between them shifted. aegon leaned in, his lips brushing against hers hesitantly. y/n responded, closing the distance again, with more passion.

there was a sense of urgency, a rush as his tongue entered her mouth. the hand on her ass moved to slip past her shorts and panties to grab at her bare skin, causing her to moan into his mouth. her own hands attempted to undo the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt, before letting her fingers roam around his exposed chest.

he pushed them back, till she felt the edge of her bed behind her making her fall back on it, pulling him down with her as she went.

his mouth moved to trail sloppy, wet kisses on her neck, and then down to her collarbone. she could feel him use his teeth, marking her for the next day.

situated as he was between her legs, she could feel his semi-hard on from under his pants, rubbing against her in the most delicious way making her wrap her legs tighter around him, to feel that friction more intensely.

his mouth broke away from her now-sensitive skin momentarily, as he lifted her top enough to expose her breasts to him. his hands roughly gripped the flesh, making y/n gasp with how cool his rings felt pressed to her skin.

his mouth then took in one of her nipples, as she whimpered at the sensation, her fingers pulling his hair as he flicked it with his tongue, before sucking on it.

when he finally lifted his head to look up at y/n, she couldn’t believe the scene before her. in that moment aegon was looking her with a hunger and wanting, that she didn’t think he’d even given cassandra baratheon.

what might come next though, made y/n nervous. she’d never gone this far with a boy before, reasoning with herself that she’d never liked anyone enough. but she could admit to herself now that she’d been waiting to share that experience with aegon, waiting for him to come around.

still, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go all the way, or how to do it if she was.

thankfully for her, aegon reached ahead and merely kissed her lips once more, softer this time. then, even more unexpectantly, he placed a final, tender kiss atop her head, before climbing off from between her thighs and crashing down on the pillow beside her.

she blinked at the figure of him, lying next to her completely relaxed, as if what they’d just done was so routine, it didn’t warrant another thought. “get that lamp light next to you, would you?” he yawned.

as if in a daze, y/n wordlessly switched the light off, plunging the room into darkness.

she could hear him breathing beside her, close enough to block her nose with the smell of cigarettes she was sure she’d have to wash out of the sheets the next day. but with his pale hair falling like that against his fluttering eyes, she knew he was the only person she wanted, flaws and all.

drowsiness began to take over her after sometime, and she wasn’t sure if she actually heard him mumbling “love you” or if she’d dreamt it but she drifted off with a faint smile on her face nonetheless.

the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over y/n’s room. she stirred awake, stretching out lazily when her eyes fell on to the snoring boy beside her. she couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful his face looked, her hand stretching out to tuck behind the strands of platinum falling to his eyes.

she tried to be as quiet as she could in walking to her bathroom. standing in front of her mirror, she noticed the now purpling hickey right by her collarbone. she still couldn’t quite believe that the events of last night had actually occurred, but the evidence was staring her right in the face. her fingertips grazed the bruise, and the corners of her lips turned upwards automatically.

she washed her face and brushed her teeth in a haze, where all she could think about was what was going to happen next. would she and aegon have a conversation about it, or would he pretend it was nothing? oh god, what if he regretted it? the thought made her tense. instead of going back to her room she sat on the edge of her bathtub, nervously thinking about what impact last night would have on their friendship. she couldn’t imagine losing aegon, she thought. if it came down to taking whatever happened yesterday forward or saving their friendship, she would pick the latter, she determined. before she could lose her nerve, she decided to go back to her room with that thought.

upon her return she realised the object of all her anxiety was already up, rubbing his eyes with his palms and groaning, clearly nursing a hangover. her heart suddenly started to pound in her chest. “you’re up early. it’s not even noon yet.” she teased as she came to sit by him. “and morning to you too” he grumbled.

“how are you feeling?” she hesitantly asked, “like i got hit by a bus,” he said, attempting a weak grin.

she gave him a faint chuckle. she looked around the room as silence filled the space. she was hoping that he’d be the one to bring up last night, rather than making her go through the embarrassment and awkwardness of coming to that topic.

how did you even start that conversation? she wondered as she pulled at a few strands of embroidery coming untethered from the rest of her bedsheet. ‘hey last night was the best kiss i’ve ever had, let’s do it again sometime soon’? no, that wasn’t it. she stole a glance at aegon who had picked up his phone, neither of them having said anything to break the silence. i could start by telling him how i’ve always liked him? no that would definitely activate his commitment-phobia, and he’d go running out the door, she realised. sitting this long without either of them talking felt far too weird and she started to panic slightly.

she kept thinking if he was going to approach the topic, wondering if she should instead, when suddenly aegon got off her bed.

“what have we got here” he walked over to the basket where some of her old toys had been kept for her mother to donate when she went to college. “nothing just some old things” she replied, surprised that this was what he wanted to discuss now. he seemed to be entertaining himself by going through her things as if he hadn’t been in her room a hundred times before.

well, if he was going to avoid it, y/n decided she should be the one to rip off the band-aid. she cleared her throat to start speaking, when he suddenly cut her off, “do you still have that lightsabre i gave you for your 12th birthday? the one that used to light up and all?” “no, because you broke it playing with it in my garden that same day you gifted it.” she reminded him, “right…” he muttered, before going back to his rummaging.

this time she stood up and walked over to him, and started to say, “y’know i think we should talk—” “what’s ollie doing here?” grinning, he grabbed an old red octopus from the basket and lifted one of its stuffed tentacles to wave at her. “did this mean old lady steal you from me ollie?” “no, you stole him from me, remember? and alicent had to return it back” she reminded him, snatching the toy back from him in irritation. if he was going to keep mucking about, she was never going to be able finish what she wanted to say.

she exhaled a big sigh, and built up her courage again, “we have to talk about last night—” “yeah, what did happen last night?”

she could only blink, as aegon nonchalantly asked, not even bothering to look up from the box of broken, dusty toys. “what do you mean ‘what happened’?”

“as in how did i end up in your bed?” he laughed, “don’t remember much after us arriving at prom” her heart sank at his words. “you blacked out.” she said in realisation. she turned around and walked back to sit on her bed so he wouldn’t see her wounded expression.

he didn’t even remember what was possibly one of the biggest moments of her life, something so monumental that she’d woken up this morning as if waking up to a new life. all those years she'd spent unknowingly pining for him, she’d thought that now there was finally some hope that she could actually be with him. but one little sentence from him had made her memory of last night dissipate like a mirage.

what had she even been thinking, he was drunk out of his mind and was probably barely in knowledge of himself when they did what they did last night. it was a mistake, and it should have never happened. she couldn’t control the tears slipping down her cheeks, her back facing aegon to shield herself subconsciously.

“you were pretty drunk. you climbed up to my room and we talked for a while. you fell asleep here.” she answered in robotic narration, not daring a look at him. she wiped her face quickly as she heard him stop with his aimless search and come sit next to her.

“sounds accurate. i do anything stupid i should know about?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. it was the standard question he asked when he blacked out. for a second, she wondered if she should tell him everything.

y/n shook her head, smiling faintly. “no, you didn't. just needed a place to crash.”

she thought about it rationally – even if they did talk about last night, what was going to be the best-case scenario? he would be glad of what he did? but even then, what would happen next? she was going to dorne, and him to the reach, and a long distance anything was going to be impossible enough. here they were nervous about their friendship surviving the distance, but a relationship? she couldn’t see any way this would end well.

and this was considering if aegon even wanted any of it. last night may have been special for her, but if drunken fooling around and crashing into bed was all it took to get him to pursue someone romantically, half the school was ahead of her in that line.

this was the best thing for both of them, she sadly thought, to preserve their friendship.

him putting his arm across her shoulders and squeezing her brought her out of her miserable thoughts, “thanks for looking out for me, as always.”

“of course,” she replied softly. “that's what friends are for.”

aegon met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “yeah, best friends.”

a few minutes later she left momentarily to get herself a glass of water but by the time she returned, her room was empty with her window left open and her red octopus missing once again from her bed.

[tariancadman]

How could we ever just be friends?

Once again I have written a shitty fanfiction. You're welcome.

Read on Ao3

Summary:  The sound of the rain greeted him as well as a soaked Chaol. Dorian took another deep breath.

“Look Chaol, whatever you’re going to say, I just want you to know I’m sorry-”

“Do you want to dance with me?” Chaol interrupted. 

Dorian’s mind simply stopped. He was like the human version of the loading symbol. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water before managing a broken, “What?”

“Do you want to dance with me?” Chaol asked again. There was an odd look on Chaol’s face, something like hope. Dorian gazed into his brown eyes and remembered the text he had sent. The part where he’d mentioned his gorgeous eyes, the ones he felt like he was being sucked into every time he looked at them. 

***

The rain beat on the windows violently, as it had been for the last few hours. The sound of it was oddly relaxing. Even the thunder that seemed to shake the entire house was nice in a way.

Dorian had been sitting in his room on the windowsill since the rain had started. It had proved pleasant background noise while he finished his homework. He had plugged his earbuds into his phone, played music from one of his playlists, and finished most of the homework he had.

About an hour ago now, Dorian’s father had sent a maid up to tell him the old man had left the house and would be back later tonight. Dorian had thanked the woman and settled back into his work. The house had quieted after his father had left, most people taking his absence as a chance to sit for a while and rest. His father would have wanted him to go tell the people to get back to work, but he couldn’t care less what they did. They deserved a break anyway after working for his father for so long.

Dorian sighed, pulling his earbuds out and packing his notebooks, pencil case, computer, and other things into his backpack and placing it by his bedroom door. Just then, he received a text.

Aelin: Sorry Dorian, I don’t think we can hang out today. My dad is all worked up about the storm and doesn’t want me to leave the house until it’s over :(

Dorian quickly texted her back saying it was all okay, that they could hang out next weekend instead. He couldn’t help the slight disappointment he felt though. They’d been meant to binge Heartstopper while he moped over Chaol, and Aelin held him while he cried.

Dorian jumped onto his bed, thinking about what he could do with the new free time he had. Immediately he thought of face timing Chaol, but that wasn’t a good idea. Last week, Dorian had been drunk and sent Chaol a text about how in love with him he was. When he had woken up in the morning, there had been a bunch of texts and missed phone calls from Chaol saying they needed to talk. Dorian had been avoiding him since, not wanting to hear Chaol say he didn’t want to be friends anymore and that he had never wanted Dorian like that.

Dorian sat back up and ran a hand through his hair before an idea popped into his head. Grabbing his phone, Dorian ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Why hello there, boy,” Thalia said from where she sat on a barstool. “Is there something you’d like for me to make for you?”

Thalia was his family’s cook. She had been around for decades now and was the only person who dared to speak ill of Dorian’s father openly. Dorian thought of her almost as a grandmother. She’d always been nice to him, giving him extra sweets when he was younger and talking to him about school when his parents ignored him.

“Not today, Thalia. If it’s okay, though, I’d like to use the kitchen to bake something.”

Thalia smiled and slid off the barstool and hobbled over to the door. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart.”

The door shut behind Thalia and Dorian quickly went to work, grabbing everything he needed.

***

Dorian sat at the kitchen island while he waited for the last batch of cookies to finish cooking. The smell of fresh cookies had engulfed the room, making Dorian’s stomach rumble. He was forcing himself to wait for them to cool off enough so that he didn’t burn his mouth when he took a bite of one.

The oven beeped, signaling there was only a minute left on the timer just as a young maid, the same one who had told him his father was leaving earlier, walked into the room. She wore an apron over a nice pair of black slacks and a white shirt. Her dark curls were pulled back into a tight ponytail on the top of her head, and Dorian thought he could see some sparkle on her eyelids.

“Hello Sir. There is a man at the door asking to see you. He says he’s your friend. Would you like for me to let him in?” The woman said, her voice soft.

Dorian couldn’t hide his surprise. The calls and text messages from Chaol had stopped yesterday, and he’d thought that would be the end of that. He’d cried for hours, knowing he had finally fucked up their friendship in an unfixable way.

The woman stood there waiting for his answer, but Dorian was still a little shocked that Chaol was here and couldn’t even tell her not to call him sir. The timer on the oven decided right then was the best time to go off and Dorian went to grab the oven mitts, moving on autopilot, but before he could, the woman grabbed his hands.

“Go talk to your friend sir, I’ll deal with your cookies.” She was smiling now, as if she knew something he didn’t.

“I-um-Thank you. I’m going to go, uh, do that.” Dorian managed. “Thank you, ma’am, very much,” He yelled as he ran through the halls towards the front door.

As he neared the closed door and saw Chaol’s silhouette through the glass, his stomach turned over. Maybe Chaol had come over here to yell at him or to give him back something he’d left at Chaol’s place. Dorian pushed the nerves down and took and deep breath, opening the door.

The sound of the rain greeted him as well as a soaked Chaol. Dorian took another deep breath.

“Look Chaol, whatever you’re going to say, I just want you to know I’m sorry-”

“Do you want to dance with me?” Chaol interrupted.

Dorian’s mind simply stopped. He was like the human version of the loading symbol. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water before managing a broken, “What?”

“Do you want to dance with me?” Chaol asked again. There was an odd look on Chaol’s face, something like hope. Dorian gazed into his brown eyes and remembered the text he had sent. The part where he’d mentioned his gorgeous eyes, the ones he felt like he was being sucked into every time he looked at them.

Dorian, not trusting himself to speak, nodded his head and gestured to the coat closet. Chaol smiled and nodded, understanding what he was trying to convey. He always did that, understood Dorian without even needing to try. It was aggravating.

Dorian moved on autopilot once again, grabbing his shoes and tying them quickly. When he stood up and moved back into the doorway, his eyes met with Chaol’s outstretched hand. Dorian took hold of it, Chaol pulling him out of the house and reaching behind Dorian to close the door.

Dorian closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of Chaol when he was so close to him and savoring the feeling of their chests pressed together. Chaol’s hand tightened its hold and then he pulled him down the steps into the pouring rain.

The cold soaked through his clothes in seconds, chilling him to the bone, but Chaol didn’t stop moving, instead he pulled him into the garden and let go of Dorian’s hand. Chaol reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pressing a button before tucking it back into the pocket.

“Until I Found You” by Stephen Sanchez and Em Beihold started played through speakers Dorian couldn’t see. Chaol reached out his hand again, looking slightly nervous now. His wet shirt clung to his body, and Dorian wanted to trail his fingers along his muscles, but he reminded himself he couldn’t.

Cautiously, Dorian grabbed Chaol’s hand, and Chaol pulled him in close. One of Chaol’s hands went around his waist and the other stayed holding his hand. Chaol moved them into a dance that was incredibly romantic.

“You told me once a few years ago that the most romantic thing you could think of was dancing in the rain,” Chaol whispered in Dorian’s ear. Dorian’s heart raced as he realized what Chaol was implying and at the thought that Chaol had paid attention to something so small.

Chaol spun him and pulled him back in, pressing himself to him as tightly as possible. Dorian looked up slightly and brought the hand he had rested on Chaol’s shoulder to his face, gently cupping it and running his thumb along his cheekbone. Chaol shuddered, his face looking absolutely wrecked as he closed his eyes.

Dorian smiled softly. “You also remembered my favorite song.”

“Yes,” Chaol whispered. “I’ve wanted to speak with you.” Chaol opened his eyes and they stilled, staring into each other’s souls.

Dorian swallowed, letting himself hope. He watched as Chaol’s Adam’s apple bobbed and as his tongue came out to wet his lips. Dorian forgot about the rain causing him to shiver, focused solely on Chaol.

“I read your text, and at first, I simply stared at it. I couldn’t believe what I had read, I thought, he must be pranking me, but then you didn’t answer any of the messages I sent you and I knew it was real, that you were panicking because you thought I would be mad with you. I have been trying to contact you so I could tell you that you are not alone in your feelings.” Chaol pressed Dorian tighter into him.

“I love you, Dorian. Your eyes sparkle when you are happy and your laugh is beautiful and you me feel dumb and I love it. I have loved you ever since we were children and I want to spend every moment of every day with you. I have spent the last years thinking that I was destined to be alone forever because I had found my soulmate, but he did not see me as his.” When Chaol finishes, he is panting.

Dorian smiles and then pulls away from Chaol to fall over laughing. Chaol stands there surprised only to realize how stupid this whole situation is and starts laughing as well.

Dorian stands back up, grabbing Chaol’s face in his hands and resting their foreheads together. “I can’t believe we have been desperately in love with each other this entire time and not noticed it. We are possibly the most oblivious people ever.”

Chaol chuckles and stares into Dorian’s eyes as he says, “Did my romantic gesture live up to your expectations?”

Dorian’s smile grows. “Yes, 100 times yes. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Chaol pulls him in close and suddenly spins Dorian away from him before leaning him over like in the movies and presses his mouth to Dorians. When they pull away from each other, both out of breath, Dorian says softly, “Would you like to eat fresh cookies with me and cuddle in front of the fire, wishing we hadn’t spent so much time in the rain?”

Chaol laughs, the sound loud and uninhibited. “Of course I would, Dorian.”

[shadowfromthestarlight]

self-pity party:

i don’t have it in me to celebrate or even be a remotely pleasant person right now. i had a cold starting on december 11th, which never progressed into anything worse but never entirely went away, then i must have caught something on the way to florida on the 23rd, because on christmas day i came down with what felt like a cross between covid and strep throat (maybe it was lol; i didn’t test). eating and drinking became a chore because of my swollen lymph nodes. my whole body hurt. i got a plush toy to remind me of my cat because i wished i could have my cat to cuddle with. the sore throat and aches gave way to a massive sinus infection. on wednesday morning, everything just started coming out. i had to work, but i also had to blow my nose every couple of minutes. falling asleep was hard because it was hard to breathe from the congestion. normal cold & flu medicine didn’t help. by friday night, i’d lost my voice. saturday morning, my eye hurt and there was never-ending green gunk coming out, my voice hadn’t improved, the congestion hadn’t improved, the sinus pressure was barely tolerable.

i spent the last day of 2022 feeling the worst i’d felt all year, unable to speak in anything above a hoarse whisper, a never-ending headache and pain all over my face, my eye clogged with goop, weak and fatigued from days of illness. i spent three hours of the afternoon waiting to get prescribed antibiotics at an urgent care. my head throbbed more and more as the night wore on. i was in so much pain and discomfort and frustration from being sick for three weeks and all-around misery that i wished i was a child so it would be okay to fall on the floor and scream. i watched the fireworks (at least 2 dozen displays) from the balcony and kissed my plush toy and went to bed. 

medicine and sleep marginally improved things; i can now think without a pounding headache and my eye isn’t oozing every minute. i might be able to travel home without people freaking out because i look like i’m patient zero for the next pandemic. i can still barely talk. i woke up coughing from post-nasal drip. i’m so over it. i’m over being asked how i feel, i’m over being told what to do to feel better, i’m over being asked if i’ve taken my medicine, in fact i would like to not be spoken to at all. i just want to go home, pull the covers over my face, and hide in the dark with my cat.

[i don’t even feel happy about the new year; i actually feel nothing much at all. i had never looked forward to 2023 anyway because i didn’t like the number. besides, from a global standpoint, it’s going to suck. we have possibly the greatest concentration of “leaders” who don’t know how to lead in human history. they’re all either weak-willed, stupid, or just plain psychopathic. there will be zero accountability for the people who just from a moral standpoint deserve to be hanged for crimes against humanity over the past three years. they’ll just come up with creative new ways to abuse us. can’t wait to see what the next annual propaganda campaign is!]

i feel awful because i’m a walker and a hiker and a step counter and i’ve barely been able to do anything for days. i haven’t had 10K steps since the 22nd. i’ve had one meal i would consider satisfying in the entire past week. i look scrawny. i have to do a lot in january to make up for it, but right now, instead of excited, i just feel exhausted.  

i think i’m gonna try crying and see if that helps get more... you know... out. 

happy new year same shit, different digits. enjoy it while you can, before WWIII hits. 

i might be back in a few days. idk.

[myfanfictiongarden]

The Words Spoken, The Mind Healed- Dracula (1897)

Because we were left out of the evening of 25th of September

----

Mina Harker´s Journal

26th of September- Early morning. The clock had just stuck half past eight as Jonathan went out of doors to bring over the good professor from his hotel to breakfast at our place. Because I will have a few minutes before they arrive, I shall put down what went on yesterday evening, my head full of thoughts and impressions that are so convoluted and entangled, that it seems like I carrie the Gordian knot itself and desperately need Alexander's sword to make end of it. To think that all is true…

After professor Van Helsing left to read the manuscripts at his room in the hotel, I was left again with Mary alone in this big house and decided to finish bookkeeping that needed to be done, but had a hard time concentrating. Yet, I was thankful for the distraction, for while concentrating on figures and numbers my mind stayed clear for a while of other thoughts that might have distressed me if dwelled on too long without rest. After I was finished with the calculations of expanses for the next week it was time to think of supper. A letter came from Van Helsing that lifted a heavy weight from my mind yet brought dark dread upon me as well. Jonathan was sane, my dear beloved the brave man I always thought him to be- but his captor was then real as well, as were the other beings of his kind, and he in London. While I sat down to compose an answer, a telegram arrived just at that moment from Jonathan, telling he would be back with the last train at 10:15, so Mary and I agreed on the meal, which I was to have earlier and later on then only tea and some biscuits as to keep him company while he sups. Night came and the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind St. Peter, the hours passing by too slowly. By 10 o’clock I had abandoned both the novel I had attempted to read, the printed letters morphing into bats and beasts and wolfs, as well as the needle work that hanged limply in my hands, and so kept watching through the window for his form to arrive and bring me peace. 

Finally the knock on the door and a moment later I there to open it. Seeing his face, if even in the dim light of the hallway lamp, made my heart easy and some tears of joy about to sprung, so I drew my arms around him in embrace last he should see them.

“I am so glad you are back home.”

“Me too. I missed you, even if it was only one day.”

“Did you have a pleasant journey? Wait, let me help you. Mary has left some cold lamb and vegetables so you can eat right away.” With his coat and hat sat off I began to hasten to make the dining room ready, but he insisted late supper in the kitchen would do just as well.

“You are too humble for a lawyer.” I told him while he took the first bite after having set up the table by himself, like if he were still a simple clerk and not the master of a nice house.

“You are right. From tomorrow on I´ll set up the household as that we should live like the Tsars in the Winter Palace.” I knew he was jesting and loved him the more for it.

While he ate I asked him more about how his trip to Launceston went and if his client was satisfied, and he told me as much of his work as he could, continuing later to describe the picturesque town and landscape he saw from the train.

“How was your day?” He asked.

“I had a visitor today. You know the gentleman that wrote me concerning Lucy’s passing? He was her doctor and is the mentor of one of Mr. Holmwood´s friends. Wishing to learn more about her illness he received permission to read her letters and diary, and so came upon my name and wanted to meet me as to ask about our stay in Whitby.”

“I'm sorry that you should have such a distracting visit, she was such a dear friend of yours.” He said and placed his hand on mine in a gesture of comfort. I went on-

“He also asked me about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes, in the letters to Lucy, and my diary kept in Whitby, there was much mention of you. He asked me about your business trip and your health, and feeling bold in his presence I gave him your journal to read. He says- he says its all true.” My voice went to a whisper at the last part and the words hung now in the air, silence following them. He moved his hand from mine, his eyes widening for a moment, before his look settles on his half empty plate and stays there, long heartbeats without movement.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don’t be angry with me! You gave me your journal to keep and I promised you, upon my soul, that I shall have it safe, to only read if duty commands it, and I have kept my promise, for when that episode caught hold of you in London it became necessary to learn the cause of it, the cause of it all to save you from further distress!”

“It is all true, so I am sane.” He whispers finally, and before I know what’s happening he has moved his chair to mine and taken hold of both my hands in his, bringing them to his lips and kissing feverishly. 

“My Mina, my darling Mina, most beloved in the world! What a blessed husband I am in you! But you, you had read it all, and must know now that I would battle all these demons again, imaginary or real, just to make it to you. It pains me, pains me so that you had to witness that horrors even if only in writing, yet part of me is glad to have a confidante in your collected mind.” We kissed, and tears streamed down both our faces. 

It was getting late so we decided to move upstairs to our room, leaving the kitchen for Mary to clean in the morning. It was simply by going through the motions that I dressed for the night, glad when finally under the covers and Jonathan sitting by my side. The bells were toiling midnight through the silence of the night as we both waited for our mouths to form a coherent word.

“Tell me.” I said at last, and so he did. It was only a shorter account of his journey and his stay at the Count's castle, but hearing it from his own lips made it even more horrifying. He would stop at times, as if battling with himself and his memory to distinguish what had really happened and what might have been imagined, at times worried he might shock me too much, but he did not need to say everything in order for me to understand.

“And when I thought it all had just been an awful dream brought upon me by fever, and sure I had passed the worst, I saw him there across the street, in London, walking among people like he were a man too. And while he didn’t see me, I could see his eyes, forever burned into my mind as their were, so blazing red, like- like…”

“Red like the blood red setting sun.” I said as a memory washed over me.

“How do you now?” He asked, noticing my expression change as frightful realisation finally settled upon me.

“Because he was there that night with Lucy.” I told him finally the whole story of my stay by the sea, and that awful night that I had found her lying on our bench up by the old churchyard. He listened patently as I told of all her instances of sleepwalking that followed, of her ebbing spirits and the rattle of wings at night at our window.

“What ever illness she acquired there, he must have brought it with him. To think her sweet nature in his presence…”

“It truly is an illness that consumes body and soul. Don’t cry my darling, for what ever misplaced guilt you may feel- yes, I say misplaced for I know you already blame yourself for not having protected her better- it matters little when he sets his mind, believe me, I know from being in his presence and in the one of these frightful women, although that word is unfit to describe them just a he is little a man himself. I know not what he is, or what they are, nor what any of it means, but if this professor Van Helsing has as much wisdom as you say- and he seems to know a deal more than us poor people from Exeter- he will bring light into this terrible darkness and peace to our minds. There may be yet a way to fight this evil, and I am ready to take up my sword like St. George did when facing the dragon.” His voice was even and strong, and I could see a change in him, his old strength of mind returned. 

Full of gratitude for seeing him not doubting his mind  anymore, I leaned closer and kissed him gently.

“What ever we will have to face, we'll face it together. “

[clonecaptains]

kept promises

a fives x f!reader fic~ 

word count: 4k

rating: m - for mild smut 

summary: fives aims to keep his promise to marry you when the war is over. but things get complicated when he’s been shot. this is my fix it fic where fives doesn’t die :) pls enjoy

a/n: fives is the loml and ive been wanting to write about him for so long~~ i hope yall like this!! comments are appreciated!! 

A loud knock on your apartment door stirs you from your sleep. You weren’t resting well anyways, but the bang on the door startles you. You push the covers back and feeling disoriented you rush for the front door. You fear something is wrong because who would be banging on your door at this hour. If Fives was coming home, he wouldn’t knock. He knows the entry code, it’s his place too.

You push the button, and the door opens with a hiss. You’re greeted with the sight of Rex and Jesse standing in your doorway. It’s always nice to see them, but from the looks on their faces it’s not going to be a pleasant visit.

Your face falls and you feel ill.

Fives.

“Is he alive?” you feel tears well up in your eyes and you reach for Rex. His eyes are sad, he carries a weight on him, and you know it.

“For now,” Rex winces to tell you the truth. “He’s been shot.”

Your hand flies to your mouth and Jesse reaches out to touch a hand to your arm.

“We came to get you to take you to him,” Jesse tries to speak as gently as possible.

“You need to pack a bag,” Rex puts his hand on your shoulder. “I can’t tell you why, but you need to hurry. There’s more to this than we can say right now.”

You nod and move aside so the boys can come in.

“Rex? Can you get some things you think Fives might need?” you ask him, you’re not entirely sure of the situation and he nods disappearing back into the bedroom you share with Fives. You yourself grab a bag and begin to stuff random clothing items in it, unsure of what you’ll even need.

This is more your place than Fives, he’s working constantly and only comes once in awhile when he has rare time off. But you have nothing here that really matters to you. What matters is him.

Your bag is stuffed full, and you’re flustered bringing it into the living area. A thin lacy pair of underwear hangs from the top, and Jesse quirks a brow.

“Packing the essentials?” he teases. “Has he seen you in that?”

“No, as a matter of fact he hasn’t,” your face warms and you shove it deeper into your bag and zip it tight.

“Jesse,” Rex’s voice is stern. He might have smiled before, but not now. “We need to go.”

Rex shoulders the bag packed for Fives, and Jesse takes your bag and slings it over his shoulder casually. You follow the boys, and your door closes behind you for the last time.

“Where are we going?” you ask, keeping up with their long strides.

“Can’t tell you,” Rex nods in the direction of a small ship outside your place. You follow them on board and Jesse is quick to get the ship into the atmosphere. He punches in the coordinates and before you know it, you’re off Coruscant headed out into space.

Rex sits down in front of you, and you feel queasy. You know he’s about to tell you something difficult and you’re not ready to hear it.

“You know when Fives sets his mind to something he won’t stop,” Rex smiles softly at that, knowing his brother’s determination. You smile too but a tear falls down your cheek. “He got into something he shouldn’t have, and he was shot for it. We took him off Coruscant for his own protection, and our own. If anyone were to find out about this, we could be in serious trouble.”

You nod. You won’t say a word.

“Besides Jesse and I, Kix is the only one who knows. He’s with Fives now. Get some rest, it’ll be hard to see him when we arrive,” he nods.

You nod back and take his advice. You try and sleep but to no avail. You do lie still and try to prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.

The ship exiting hyperspace stirs you before Rex comes to get you. He’s quiet and patient while you sigh heavily, knowing you’re about to see him.

The planet you land on is one you’re unfamiliar with but it’s beautiful. Trees and mountains fill your sight. The boys take your bags and lead you to a humble little house nestled in some trees near a small pond.

Rex goes in first, and Jesse waits outside with you. Just in case something has happened. They don’t say that, but you know that’s why.

Rex opens the door back up and gives you both a small nod that it’s ok. Jesse puts his hand on your lower back and walks with you into the little house.

It’s a comfortable space, and you’re greeted with Kix as soon as you walk in. He gives you a soft smile and a nod, telling you that it’s ok.

“He’s in the back,” Kix tells you and the boys let you walk into the bedroom alone to see Fives.

In a cozy bedroom, Fives is laying out on the bed on his back. He’s hooked up to a number of machines. You’d seen a medical droid in the living area with Kix, so you know he’s in good hands. But it still breaks your heart to see him like this.

His head has been shaved, and there’s a cut on the right side of his head. It’s been patched up, but you can still see some old blood that seeped through the bandage. He’s shirtless and there’s a bandage wrapped around his chest from where you can only assume is the blaster injury.

You reach for him and touch his shoulder. Then you stroke his cheek with the back of your finger. You place a tender kiss on his forehead before you lay down on the bed next to him. Careful of everything he’s hooked up to, you rest your head on his shoulder.

You fall asleep there and you don’t know how long you stay there with him. It’s Fives who wakes you. His body stirs and you gasp softly sitting up. His eyes open, you can tell he’s exhausted. Even the rich tones of his skin seem paler. But he smiles when he sees you. His hand reaches up to cup your face and he mumbles a mando’a pet name.

He falls back asleep, and you feel tears well up in your eyes again. Just a brief glimmer of the life in his eyes is enough to bring you joy and sorrow.

You think about when you first knew him. How you and your friends would go to 79’s and they would try to push you in Fives’ direction. How if he ever looked your way you’d look away and avoid his gaze. You did this for weeks. Then he’d leave for a mission, and you wouldn’t see him for months.

Before too long, he approached you. And it was his brothers teasing him. Daring him to talk to you and howling when you agreed to go out with him.

You sniffle softly with a smile at the memory of when you kissed him on the cheek, and he was quick to put his helmet on to hide his flustered face.

The boys would tell you later that you were the first person Fives was interested in that made him act like this. Usually he was smoother, more charismatic with charm. But with you? Brain dead. Just as flustered as you.

That was months ago. But it feels like a lifetime ago. He made a promise to you before his last mission that when the war was over, he’d settle down and marry you. He said this a few weeks back before he left. And now here he is, laying on a bed recovering from being shot.

You sit up and press a kiss to his lips before you climb off the bed. You’re hurting and you need some air. And you think it’s wise to tell Kix that Fives woke for a moment.

“Rex?” you whisper, and he’s quick to stand when you speak his name. “Will you walk with me while I get some air?”

You don’t want to be alone right now. Especially not on this strange new planet. And you trust Rex with your life. You don’t know this, but Fives made Rex promise to keep an eye on you if something ever happened.

Rex is right behind you when you step outside. You breathe deeply and he does too. You can’t imagine it’s ever easy seeing one of your brothers hurt like this.

The two of you begin to explore and walk quietly together.

“Fives is a good man. One of the best I know. He’ll make a good husband I think,” Rex smiles offering you his blessing.

“He told you?” your face warms at the thought of him talking about you.

Rex chuckles, “we always knew in the barracks that night if he had a date with you. He wouldn’t shut up. He told me months ago he wanted to marry you.”

You cover your smile with your hand, and Rex smiles seeing the affection on your face.

“Seeing our brothers find joy in this war is a gift. And you have been a true joy to him.”

You spend the rest of the walk in silence. Enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees. It’s peaceful. You see a few animals and some homes nearby. It’s good to know you aren’t truly alone out here.

You can only assume the boys will pack up and leave- no matter the outcome.

But then Rex gets an unexpected message that they are needed. They have to pack up that night. Kix runs you through everything you need to know about what you can do to help. He’ll leave the medical droid there with you to help as best it can.

You can’t help the tears that fall when the boys get ready to leave.

You give each one a hug and a kiss on his cheek. Thanking them for what they’ve done for you and for Fives.

Rex hugs you a little tighter than the rest, and you know he hates to leave you here alone. Kix feels a pang of guilt leaving Fives too, but none of them are even supposed to be here. Kix has already reported Fives as KIA to keep the both of you safe, but it’s hard to leave.

Then it’s quiet. It’s just you and Fives and a droid. Fives is still resting, and the droid is checking his vitals. Based on what Kix told you, Fives sustained a couple broken ribs from the shot. He should be fine, but it will take time to fully heal, and he will be sore.

That’s how you spend the next couple weeks. Fives slowly starts to heal and he’s able to get on his feet. You take walks when he feels like it, and you learn about each other. For the first time in a long time, you have time to spend together. Getting to share meals and stories and watching silly videos on the holonet.

You even find out about the end of the war when you’re here. The turn of the tide. That there’s an empire now. Fives has a hard time that day. Feeling betrayed, knowing he was right. Pain eating him up inside knowing many of his brothers are out there fighting something in their head they can’t stop. The lives that have been lost. Even the Jedi.

He’s quiet for a few days then. Trying to rationalize what it all means. And where he fits in in this galaxy.

When he comes to bed that night, you know he’s haunted.

“Take it easy my love,” you kiss his temple. His hair is starting to grow back and it’s soft to the touch. You smile at being so close to him. You’ve shared a bed with him for the last few weeks, and even before when you lived on Coruscant. But you’d yet to be intimate with him.

You’d never been intimate with anyone at all. And you know the day will soon come that Fives will be your first. And hopefully your only.

“I can’t believe the war is over,” he says gently pulling you into his arms. It’s less and less painful now to hold you. He kisses your stern brow. “And I made you a promise,” he grins.

You’ve thought about that promise every day. Especially when you thought you might lose him. But now it’s even stronger sharing a bed and all your time with him. He’s so close to you. You can feel his warmth and smell his skin. The soft touch of his lips on yours before bed.

When your relationship was new you told him you wanted him. And he told you the same. But you made an agreement to wait until after the war. You can’t really remember why now. Because when you thought you lost him, all you could think about was the moments that might have been lost. Or the regret.

But now that he’s safe, and the war for him is over – you’re glad you chose this. There’s no urgency. And you both know that once he heals, you’ll take that final step together.

And it’s getting closer. A growing feeling in the pit of your belly tells you. Fives is able to do most things now. He had difficulty staying in bed. Staying still. He wanted to get up and move. He thrives off the day-to-day chores around the house and taking care of their land that you’re not sure how Rex even got ahold of.

You woke yesterday morning in Fives arms and his hard length pressing against you. He was just as flustered as you were, but you saw the flame of desire in his eyes. And that flame licked your body all over. You were tired of waiting, but now you had to for him to heal. You would feel terrible if something happened to him for the sake of pleasure. But you could only imagine his wry chuckle in saying he wouldn’t mind at all.

“Fives?” you call to your lover this afternoon out the window. He’s in the back tending to the garden that has begun to grow. He perks his head up at the sound of your voice and he smiles warmly. With his forearm, he wipes sweat off his brow and joins you inside. “How are you feeling my love?” you ask him after he gives you a kiss. You taste the salt from his sweat and you’re aching. You need him. Now.

He knows you, and your looks. He knows what this means.

“Good enough to keep my promise,” he gives a little wink and pulls off his sweaty shirt. He only grunts a little from the movement, but it’s nothing major. You giggle at his eagerness but then feel your knees buckle at the sight of his sweaty chest. Dark hair is dusted lightly over his pecs and lead down to his waistband.

“Fives,” you moan and touch his skin. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him shirtless or touched him like this. But it feels different now. There’s a scar and a slight yellowing from his bruise almost done healing.

He reaches for the hem of your shirt when there’s a quiet knock on the door.

Fives laughs because you’ve been alone for weeks and now there’s a knock at this moment.

“Who is it?” Fives calls and Rex answers. You both light up at the sound of his voice, and Fives runs to open the front door for him.

Rex looks exhausted. He has a cut on his head in the same place Fives does. And he wears a tan poncho over his armor. Any humor about the moment has gone when Rex sees Fives and hugs him tight.

Something in you tells you that Rex has lost too many brothers over the last few weeks. And seeing Fives alive is a peace he needed.

“I came to check on the two of you,” he tells you finally. “But I seemed to have interrupted you,” he almost looks shy.

“Actually,” Fives stops and looks at you for a moment with a smile. “You might be just the man we need.”

Fives disappears into the bedroom. You and Rex exchange looks as you hear Fives clattering around. He emerges moments later in full armor. There’s a blast mark on his chest plate and you try not to look at it but it’s the thing on everyone’s mind.

“Why did you put this on?” you ask him touching his shoulder. You love how broad he looks in his armor, and you lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek. You love him so much and it’s hitting you hard seeing him in this armor. Just how you could have lost him and yet here he stands.

“Rex? Wanna marry us? Can you do that?”

Rex smiles bigger than you’ve ever seen, and no one really cares if he can legally or not. You’ve been married to Fives for a long time as far as you’re concerned.

“Well wait, I want to look nice too,” you stop and head to your room to put something else on. You choose one of the nicer things you brought with you when you were scrambling to pack all those weeks ago. You put it on and feel giddy with love.

Fives offers you his arm when you come out, and he leads you outside into the quiet of the woods. He takes your hands in his and Rex stands with the two of you.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to a wedding before,” Rex chuckles, getting a loud laugh from Fives. “Fives,” Rex speaks his brother’s name, and Fives stands at attention. “The Republic has fallen. We live in the times of the Empire now. You’ll always be a soldier but this time – your duty is to this one in front of you. Promise me, yourself, but most importantly to your riduur  that you will protect and love with all that you have. I know you will. But it’s an order Fives.”

Rex smiles, and Fives gives a nod. He squeezes your hands, and you know he will keep his promise.

Then Rex looks to you. His eyes are gentle.

“You have been given a gift. And that’s the love of my brother. I know him better than anyone, and I know how much he loves you. I know he would do anything for you. Because I know I would if I were in his shoes. I’m trusting you to look out for him. Protect his heart. I know you have, and I trust you with him.”

By now you have tears in your eyes. But it’s more than just from love- it’s knowing that you have Rex’s trust. He’s one of the best men that you know.

Rex pauses, and steps back a moment. And Fives takes that opportunity to cup your face in his hands and kiss you deeply. Then he presses his forehead to yours and if only you knew then what the gesture meant to him and Rex.

When you part, you reach for Rex and give him another hug and kiss on his cheek.

“I owe you everything,” you tell him, and his brow is stern even with his small smile.

Fives then grabs Rex in an even bigger hug and kisses him loudly on the cheek. They touch foreheads and then Fives laughs shoving Rex on the shoulder telling him to get lost.

“We have things to do,” Fives laughs again, and Rex can only roll his eyes with amusement.

“Stay safe, I’ll contact you if I need you again,” Rex tells you both and with that he’s gone.

The moment Rex is out of sight, Fives grabs you. His hands are on your hips digging into your skin and his lips are on yours. He’s already moaning into you as he backs you into the house.

He knows that you’ve never been with anyone, and it makes him even more hungry to touch you. He’s eager and excited and between his kisses and tugging off your clothes, he makes sure every action is alright.

He’s so excited that he forgets to undress himself, and he has you naked in front of him while he stands in full armor.

“Fives,” you feel shy and tempted to cover yourself while he stands proud in his armor.

“Oh, right,” he chuckles and begins to take off his armor piece by piece. You help him in between kisses, and he sneaks little butt grabs and smacks while he can. He gets distracted easily by the sway of your breasts as you move, and he squeezes them until you squeak.

When he’s free of his armor and blacks and everything else, he tips you back onto the bed and kisses you all over. Every bit of you that he can kiss, he does. His goatee tickles and you tug on his hair even though it’s still really short.

He finds himself between your legs and he takes his time. Going back and forth between his mouth and his hands until you’re crying out his name. He’s almost too rough in his eagerness and you gasp and giggle pushing him off you. You could cry, you’ve never been wanted so much in your life.

“Sorry,” he presses a kiss to your thigh. “You taste so good,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Don’t be,” you feel warm, “I just want more from other parts of you,” you giggle when he raises an eyebrow.

He slides up your body and delves his tongue into your mouth and squeezes your breast again as he lines up with your entrance. He’s slow moving inside and you cry out in his kiss. Your hands are on his shoulders, and you tell him to wait.

He’s patient and kisses you while you adjust to him. But you can tell he’s ready to move. He grunts and his abs tighten, and he can’t help the wince that escapes his lips.

“Do we need to stop?” you ask him, your voice full of concern.

“No,” he shudders when he pushes in a little deeper. “I need you mesh’la.”

He focuses on feeling the pleasure of it and making sure you feel your pleasure. When you arch your back and press your chest to his, something about the action sends him over and he cries out in your ear as he spills inside of you.

He whispers another apology but you’re moaning and gasp when you feel his thumb press where you need him most. You find your release with a whine.

He pulls out of you but stays on you. He slides down a little and rests his head on your chest. His face nestled between your breasts and his ear can hear your heartbeat pound.

“Happy?” you giggle scratching his head as he nuzzles your breast.

“Happier than I’ve ever been. Are you?” he looks up at you, resting his chin on your sternum.

You nod and scratch his back then his scalp. “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I love you baby,” you tell him.

“I love you cyare,” he mumbles kissing your sternum before laying back down.

You don’t know if he’s thinking the same thing, you are. But all you can think about is how a few weeks ago you were laying in this bed with him hoping he would get up. Hoping he would move. Praying he was alive.

Now that you have him in your arms, you’ve never been more thankful he’s alive. But in this case, you don’t want him to move. He feels too good.

He can feel your heartbeat, and you can feel his warmth. The life is in him again and you truly have never been happier to have him alive. Heart pounding and life in his veins, and that fire of love in his eyes.

[caramelcal]

His Favorite Girl

a/n: HELLO. (sounding like the guy in the cinema cba lol) anyways I have returned for a brief period of time to share this update with you guys. It’s based off of this request here: “ Do you think you could write a Luke x gang again where maybe he has to leave for work during sex and the reader touches herself out of frustration and he comes back and finds her ?” 

STOP BECAUSE THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT WHAT THE REQUESTER WANTED BUT ILL WRITE SOMETHING AGAIN BUT LIKE JUST TH REQUEST IF THATS WHAT YOU GUYS WANT SDGHGDFGBH but this is kinda a part 2 to the Bambi/His Favorite Secret series thingy cause a few people wanted that! thank you guys so much for all the love mwah

i should literally be studying rn but im not so <3 im very sorry for this abomination lol

sorry for the long a/n guys! :( enjoy x 

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smutty stuff (fucking, fingering, anal and all that...ive never written this before so PLS PLS PLS give me feedback omg) uh choking, doesn’t have a daddy kink in this but sir is mentioned. talks of being tied up and being tied up? talks about overstim... he calls her little girl at one point...

“Luke! Stop moving!” She lightly slapped her boyfriend’s hand, to which he groaned in return. Her tongue stuck out slightly from between her lips in concentration, eyebrows furrowing as she returned to the task she had firmly put her mind to. That was, until the blond giant moved again, “Luke!”

“Bambi,” Luke echoed lightly, using his nickname for the smaller girl in front of him who looked up at him with an unimpressed facial expression.

“You’re gonna ruin it,” She mumbled lightly, pointing back down at her artwork which Luke only then first looked at. It was safe to say, although he shouldn’t have been, he was thoroughly shocked.

His nails, which his girl had somehow managed to convince him into painting weren’t black, or blue. No, they were bright, blasting, hot pink. He groaned lightly, wondering just how exactly she had managed to rope him into this and just how he was going to hide his nails from the rest of the gang later on tonight when he -they- met up with them tonight.

She was a bundle of both nerves and excitement, finally getting to meet Luke’s closest friends. It had been about a week since their argument, and now she was meeting his friends. It seemed like everything was moving in the right direction, thankfully. She couldn’t wait to be honest, very much looking forward to being able to hear more about Luke from his friends, and just meeting them in general.

They seemed fun.

Well, as fun as gang members could be. She probably should have been more cautious surrounding them, but Luke got her guard down so quickly and she was yet to regret that. How scary could they possibly be considering the man in front of her, soft blond curls held back by her bunny bath headband, nails painted hot pink, was supposed to be the scariest man in the whole city.

“Cal’s gonna rip the piss outta me for this, Bambi,” He complained softly, with no plans to take the polish off of his nails as he looked at his girlfriend, between his legs, small hand wrapped around the bottle of nail polish with her other hand laying against his knee.

She couldn’t help the small upturn of her lips as she blew softly against the nail polish on his fingernails, not patient enough to let it airdry despite it being a fast-drying polish. She shrugged lightly, head flopping to the side adorably as Luke stared down at her, resisting the urge to run his hands through her hair; another issue he had with the wet paint on his fingernails.

“I think it looks great, we’re matching,” She then flaunted the bright pink color that coated her own nails, and Luke’s lips twitched into a grin, careful not to ‘aww’ at the cute words that came out of the smaller girl’s mouth.

He hummed lightly, leaning back against the couch but his baby blues never leaving her face, “They look a lot better on you than they do me, Bambi.”

“I think they’re cute,” The girl climbed onto his lap, making Luke take a deep intake of breath as she sits barely an inch away from a rather sensitive area of his. She, however, seemed to pay no attention to the risen area of his jeans as she leaned against his chest, face hidden in the crook of his neck, soft breaths from her mouth fanning against his neck.

He twisted to give her a small kiss on the forehead, to which she responds by kissing his neck softly, lips staying against his neck as her hand traveled up his stomach up to his neck, holding him close as she began to kiss the base of his neck more.

“Lu,” She whispered softly, “How much time have we got?”

“Like an hour, baby. Why?”

However, the girl never replied verbally, and instead repositioned herself carefully, Luke’s neck void from her warmth before her hand started to travel down, painfully slow, until it landed right above the tent in his jeans. His eyes traveled up to meet hers, eyebrow raised as she dropped her hand down barely, lips struggling to pull the smirk away.

He lifted his hands to her back, going to reposition her before she shook her head, “Your nail polish, Lu. Hands down.”

His hands didn’t move, frozen in place around her clothed waist. His nails were long since dried, she knew that, but she liked this. She liked the intake of breath he took when her hand ghosted over the hardened cock in his jeans, the way he couldn’t lift his hands; scared to smudge the pink on his nails.

He was restricted. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Her hand gently palmed against his hardened, clothed cock, causing a grumble to emit from his throat. It was a deep rumbling sound, -something that the girl had heard numerous times but would never get used to.

To her, everything about Luke was perfect, even his moans.

“Bambi, you know the rules about teasing-”

Her lips attached to his, cutting him off rather efficiently, pressing softly as she continued to palm him through his jeans, gently rocking on his thigh. He moaned into their kiss, her tongue, as a reflex, finding its way into his mouth. Their tongues pressed against one another, lips still pressed together as her spare hand crawled up to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls.

Her palm pressed into his fully hardened cock now, his tongue swiping over her lips before tugging on it, pulling apart, breathless. His hands found a place on her waist, guiding her softly but firmly, taking back the control he craved.

Looking her straight in the eyes, one of Luke’s hands went around her neck, thumb pulling her lower lip down as he unbuckled his belt with one hand, taking his cock out of its confined clothing and bringing her hand down to hold onto it. It wasn’t the first time that she had given him a handjob, and it wouldn’t be the last, but she still couldn’t help but be nervous.

Despite not being a virgin when she met Luke, she still lacked a lot of experience that Luke definitely had. She knew that he would never judge her, but that never stopped the nerves that festered.

“All shy all of a sudden, Bambi?” He mocked, hand around her neck tightening as he bit down on her ear lobe, gently tugging at it before letting out a breath, “All big and brave, teasing Sir, aren’t you? If you’re going to start it, then you’re going to finish it. On your knees. Now.”

Releasing a shaky breath, the girl clambered out of Luke’s lap dropping to the floor, in a similar position to the one she had been in minutes before, only in a more sexual manner. Her lips met the tip of his cock, tongue lightly swiping across the base.

His hand grabbed firmly onto the hair on the back of her head, holding her steady as she got used to the feeling of his cock in her mouth before thrusting against her. She gagged as it hit the back of her throat, sending vibrations up him, releasing a deep moan from his throat.

“Suck, little girl,” Luke commanded deeply, leaving no room for argument as the smaller girl abided to his command, tongue swiping over him as she reached up to cover the last part of his cock with her hand.

Yet, she didn’t get much further when a ringing sounded through the room, Luke groaning but ultimately pulling away from the girl who stayed on the floor, watching Luke as he grabbed his phone.

“What?” He gritted his teeth lightly, trying to keep his frustration at bay after being interrupted.

He sighed softly, not looking at the small girl with furrowed eyebrows still on the floor as he pulled his jeans back up, clambering to get shoes on and getting ready to leave, hanging the phone up.

“Luke what’s going on?”

“Gang shit, Bambi. I gotta get going, be ready for six, we’re meeting Cal, Ash, and Mike later, remember?” He offered her no more words, but she can tell he isn’t angry at her, just due to their interruption.

However, she can’t help but be frustrated at the interruption, waiting until after Luke leaves to huff and puff about it before starting to get ready.

. . .

“Luke has this old penguin fan account on Instagram from like seven years ago. There’s this one picture on there with him with a penguin hat-”

“Cal, stop,” Luke interrupted Cal swiftly, an arm going around his smaller girlfriend’s waist who looked far too amused by the embarrassing things about Luke that Cal was telling.

“No, no, Calum please keep going. Please,” The girl begged, feeling very comfortable around the Maori boy. They were pleasant, to her at least, and so far they had made her feel very comfortable and very much at home. It was hard to believe that the people joking with her where infamous mobsters, ones that were feared all across the city, and state. 

They had met in Ashton’s house, who she had already met before, at six o’clock. It turns out gang members like to be punctual, or maybe it was only these ones.

Luke was in a bit of a hurry once he arrived back home, with no time to finish what he and his girl had started before he had to leave in a hurry, leaving her oh so frustrated. This was only magnified when she saw him afterward, ready to head to Ash’s in that pale pink silk button-up that only seemed like it would suit him; like it was made specifically for him.

Maybe it was.

Luke was never shy of customized clothing, cars, or anything he wanted honestly. If you have the money, why not? Was always his answer when she asked why he seemed to wear all of these expensive items. If it wasn’t custom-made, it was a high-quality designer that he wore, she rarely ever found him in anything that didn’t smell of cash and high-class, -far too expensive but albeit intoxicating- cologne.

This money of Luke’s also happened to extend to her also. He was never shy of picking her up a few things, letting her have his card for shopping and now, he started going out shopping with her too. He didn’t look like the type that would go out with his ‘girlfriend’ or anyone, but in the case of her, he followed her around like a lost puppy; willing to hold her bags, let her drain his bank account. Not that she did, anyway. She was still mindful, even if Luke had more money than he knew what to do with.

“Nah, can’t. Don’t want Luke to kill me for embarrassing me in front of his precious little girlfriend,” Calum teased lightly, shaking his head as his eyes darted to meet Luke’s baby blues. Truthfully, Luke could pretend to be annoyed at Cal and the rest for exposing his old penguin Instagram account but he was just glad to see them getting along with the girl that owned his heart.

She was the first girlfriend that his best friends seemed to approve of. He didn’t normally bring his girlfriends to meet them, but the ones he did, the boys he called his best friends didn’t usually like them. For the first time, Luke could actually see a future with the girl in front of him, beamingly smiling as Cal and Michael joke about with her and laughing at their attempts of humor.

God, he loved her.

“So, do you think they like me?” She asked the moment they got home, the door shut behind them. Luke turned around, staring at the wide-eyed girl with a small smile on his lips.

Did she seriously not realize how much they liked her? Especially with how much joking that they had done with her, he was certain that she would have realized but then again, she wasn’t the most self-assured person when it comes to new people. He nodded his head, “Yeah, Bambi. They really liked you.”

Luke would never get over the way her eyes sparkled, his smile only growing. She looked amazing in that red silky dress that he had bought her, and he looked just as good in the coral colored button-up he was wearing.

Their lips met softly, Luke bending down slightly to meet her lips as the girl went up on her tiptoes, bare feet on the top of Luke’s shoes. He didn’t mind, in fact, he barely even realized as he swiped his tongue across her bottom lip for access which she quickly gave him. Her hands wrapped around his neck, one entangling in his blond curls, while his went around her waist and one under her ass, lifting her up.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, lips never breaking away from his as she moaned into the kiss. She pushed herself closer to him as the kiss heated up, eyes closed as Luke tried his best to navigate the way to their bedroom. Thankfully, even with his eyes partially closed and completely distracted by the soft lips on his, he managed to get there, fumbling with the doorknob before kicking the door open.

Luke pulled away quickly to get a breath, now at the edge of the bed as his mouth went to the side of her face, pressing kisses along her neck before whispering in a sinfully sultry voice, “Let’s finish what we started earlier, huh?”

With that, she was placed down on the bed, staring at Luke with a glaze in her eyes, lust, lips slightly swollen as he pushed her dress up, nudging her underwear to the side. His fingers ghosted over her pussy, making her take a ragged intake of breath. He was on top of her, watching her as she awaited every movement of his fingers, completely helpless under his touch.

“So wet for me, baby,” He murmured, pressing a few chaste kisses against the base of her neck as he rubbed her slit. She didn’t reply just yet, whining lightly when he slowed down his movements, coming to a stop, “Tell me what you want baby.”

“You, Lu. I want you, sir,” Her words flooded out of her mouth quickly, the aching between her legs becoming too much. If Luke didn’t do something about it soon then she would have to. She stared up at his smirking face above her. His fingers pulled away from her, making her whine as he reached for his belt, skillfully unbuckling it and letting his cock spring free from its confines.

He looked up at her as he repositioned himself, her squirming with need beneath him before he lined his tip at her entrance, baby blues meeting her eyes, “You sure?”

She nodded vigorously in return, but Luke didn’t move, commanding lightly, “Words, baby.”

“Please Luke, I’m sure. Please fuck me.” He swatted her thigh at the sound of the swear falling from her lips but obliged nonetheless, plunging deep into her letting out a moan, her strangled moan following behind.

He plunged in once again, hitting a spot that made her whimper and moan at the same time, hands reaching around to his back, clawing on the now exposed skin. Luke’s hips are flushed against hers as he goes deep inside of her once again, both moaning.

“Fuck, Bambi,”

Luke’s pace quickened, thrusts becoming sloppier as he continued to thrust into her, hitting her sweet spot over and over, moans filling the room with small pleads from her and soft curses from him.

Then a phone went off. Luke froze inside of her, and she groaned, sweaty, a mess, and incredibly sexually frustrated. She could feel Luke sitting inside of her; how big he was. She thought that he was going to ignore the phone call, to continue something that they were robbed of earlier. He wasn’t really going to let them be interrupted twice today, was he?

He reached over to the bedside table, picking his phone up and looking at the caller ID before sighing. He pulled out of her, baby blues looking at her with a frown, “I need to take this.”

“Luke,” It was a plead. For him to stay with her, to let them finish what they started. She shuffled lightly until she was sitting in front of him, on her knees. Her hand went to the side of his face, caressing it gently as she put her face at his neck, “Stay with me, Sir. I need you.”

He knew exactly what she was trying to do, but he wasn’t going to fall for it. He pulled away from her, gripping onto her side as a warning with his free hand, “No, Bambi.”

His voice was low, a warning for her to stop what she was doing as he sent her a pointed look. He didn’t even let her make another move or get another word in before he was back in his jeans and walking out of the room, leaving her alone.

The seconds that she was alone turned into minutes, and those minutes turned into ten, then fifteen. She shifted uncomfortably, still on edge and incredibly frustrated. It didn’t seem like Luke was coming back as he had left without saying goodbye or telling her where he was going to be or how long. Was this all because she had tried to get him to stay?

Well, if he wasn’t going to get back, she would have to take stuff into her own hands. Leaning back, her hand reached her own clit, rubbing desperately, basking in the feeling once again. This time, she would get the job done.

Her fingers slipped inside of her, curling into her, moans softly filtering out of her lips. She was close, her fingers covered in her own slick as she continued to curl her hands into herself, soft pants falling from her lips as she spread her legs more to get a better angle, trying to go deeper.

Her hands would never be as good as Luke’s though, her small fingers not holding a torch to his digits. He knew everything that made her squirm, even better than she did, he had her all decoded, knew how to navigate her better than anyone else ever could.

“Baby I need to get-” Luke opened the door, stopping when his eyes met her figure on the middle of the bed, fingers inside of her as soft breaths fell from her lips. Her head titled back, eyes lidded as he froze on the spot before a smirk made its way onto his face.

“Really?” He asked incredulously, sauntering up to the bed before grabbing onto her wrist, pulling her fingers out of her desperate cunt making her whine. Her eyes met his, which never strayed, even after he brought her hand up to his mouth and swirling his tongue around her slick-covered digits.

“Lu-”

“Quiet,” He shut her up quickly, voice hard and commanding, something that made nerves bundle in her stomach and turned her on even more. He stood up again, sauntering over to the dresser before pulling a belt from the top of it, grabbing her hands and confining them with the thick leather, “Since you can’t keep your hands off of that pretty little pussy of mine, I guess we’re going to have to do something about that.”

Luke pulled her up to the headboard, hooping the leather around there and tightening it. When he let go, she pulled against the leather restraints, only to find her hands unable to move from their position at the headboard.

“So desperate to cum, baby? Well, you’ll be desperate to stop after I make you come over and over until there’s no more cum left in your body and you're writhing beneath me. Do you understand me, baby?”

“Yes Sir,” She whimpered out in return, nodding her head as she breathed heavily, watching Luke’s hand as it trailed teasingly down her side until it reached her pussy, a finger flicking up and down it, making her hips jerk up.

“But first of all, I need to go deal with the drug run. See you later, Bambi.”

And with a smirk on his face, Luke left his girlfriend there, tied up to the bed, whining for him to come back. And he would, and when he did, she wouldn’t be walking for days afterward.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.19

The True Heir

03/09/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,781

Warnings: angst, depression, pregnancy, marital troubles, pining

A/N: There is very little editing. Forgive me. I’m sleepy. I’ve been up writing all night. I’ve also been hurting, but it’s all good! I’m so happy to get this chapter out. *insert evil laugh* If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! it truly means so much, more than you know. xoxo

Sunday

Today you do nothing.

You’d opened up your laptop last night and attempted to scribble a few lines for your next book, but all you could think about was Thor, Jane, the babies to come, and where exactly you fit amongst all of it.

After typing Thor’s name along with a few other random words for the tenth time, you gave up and shut the laptop. You’d crawled into bed, bundled up under your fluffy comforter, and bid goodbye to the world as you caved in to unconsciousness.

The fact that morning is here, you find that your hope for today to be better than  yesterday was silly. How can anything ever be good again?

You place your hands on your lower tummy, caressing what feels like a very slight swell. It’s just barely harder than the rest of your stomach. Firm. Despite the happiness that your baby brings you, you stare across the room at your computer and can’t find it in you to get up and work.

Instead you roll over onto your other side and pull Thor’s--that is to say, the one he’d used while he was here--pillow over to cling to.

Thor’s texts are also still fresh in your mind.

Sleep didn’t dull their effect on you or the confusion they raised.

Did they mean that he wouldn’t get an annulment? That’s sorta what you were getting from them. His declarations that he couldn’t live without you and that he would die for you and that he missed you so much at his side sounded like he was also telling himself how he felt. As if he were, not so much convincing, but reaffirming what he already knew.

You reach over and switch your phone on, clicking through to your messages to find that Thor must have stolen his phone back from Loki at some point.

Thor: Good morning, my cherub. I hope you slept well.

Thor: I could hardly sleep with you absent beside me.

Thor: Our bed is too big without you in it.

Thor: Have you seen the doctor yet? You’ll text me as soon as you get a diagnosis, won’t you? I’ll be waiting.

Thor: Loki insists that I give you some distance to rest but being apart from you is torture.

Thor: Would you be very angry with me if I came to see you?

Thor: I have some things I must deal with here before I can go though. Loki is right. I should allow you rest and fix things here before I come to you.

Thor: Are you still sleeping, cherub? I’m sorry if my messages are disturbing you. I haven’t gone this long without talking to you since...I wish I’d met you years ago. When things weren’t so complicated.

Thor: Would you have let me court you even though I am the God of Thunder? Future King of Asgard? Would you have married me when I came back with my people to live here on Earth?

Thor: I think if I had to choose all over again, you’re still the only woman equal to the task of being my Queen.

Thor: And the love that has grown between us is...I will never take it for granted…

As you read that last message, you assume he wants to say he won’t take it for granted again. He’s already let it slip through his fingers, although he doesn’t know it yet.

Thor: Perhaps this can be that break you were talking of. For our baby? Maybe we do need a little bit of relaxation to let our bodies recover?

Thor: And yet, I can’t wait to start a family with you, cherub.

You’re bawling all over again, your eyes flooding with tears as you bury your face into his pillow and sob loudly.

He’d said that he missed your body next to his. You can relate. You want to feel the heavy fall of his chest, the deep breaths that fill his lungs and escape through his lips in a quiet little snore that always makes you cuddle into his side.

Normally, he’d respond by turning to face you and holding you right up against his chest.

The comfort that simple thing would give you right now when your heart is aching so painfully is what you so desperately need. But...you’re so angry too. You don’t want him near you.

The images that flood your mind are torture. Mixtures of pleasant, happy moments now marred by the betrayal and anger that has taken hold of your heart.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream until your throat really does go hoarse. Frustration at the force of change you’ve had to make in the past twenty-four hours.

You’re startled back to the present when your phone rings. You make a small attempt  to clear your throat then answer and the absolute gravel voice you use settles any wondering as to whether your illness is real.

“Hello?” you whisper, clearing your throat to no avail.

“Oh, cherub, you sound terrible.”

Your heart panics. How are you supposed to talk to him?

You don’t want to talk to him.

“I can’t really talk,” you say weakly hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Did the doctor see you already?” Thor asks, his worry evident in the quiet tone of his voice.

“Yes, he gave me some medicine and told me to try not to talk,” you lie, surprisingly easy right now since you don’t want to talk.

For your emotional sanity, you need to hang up soon.

“I’m so sorry, love. I wish I could take this illness from you. Where’s David? I’d like to talk to him.”

You panic again, floundering as you cough and clear your throat to buy some time.

“He’s not here. He went to the store to get some groceries,” you hope he buys it.

“I’ll call him a little later then. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks, Thor,” you mumble, suddenly not wanting to hang up.

How can one person give you so much ease and worry all at once? How can he be your source of agony and comfort at the same time? It’s not fair.

“I have so much to tell you, but...now is not the right time. You need to get better first.”

Nevermind! Fuck this guy. Your heart sinks.

“I have to go,” you tell him, hoping he’ll just hang up and leave you be now.

“Very well. I love you, cherub.”

How do you answer him without giving anything away just yet?

“Me too,” you choose. And it’s true.

Even if he’s torn your heart into pieces, he’s still the father of your baby and you still love him.

Whatever madness overcame him when he’d suggested to Loki getting an annulment was the best course of action seems to have passed. Loki must be right about him.

“Bye, Thor,” you whimper.

“Bye, Y/N,” he says your name, making your heart quake a bit.

You hang up and quickly dial up David.

He answers after two rings.

“Hello? How is my favorite girl in the whole wide world?”

He sounds amused by something, or just happy. It’s such a difference to how you feel at the moment that it breaks you and you sob again, renewing your tears.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” David demands, clearly now beginning to fret over the way you sound.

You tell him everything. Somehow you manage to get it all out minus one important detail and when you’re done recounting the most horrible night of your life, David sighs heavily and you can almost picture him settling into a deep armchair with massive worry weighing on his shoulders.

“Well, the good thing is, if he goes through with an annulment, you’re to be given a monthly allowance for the rest of your life. It was a condition in your contract, should Thor change his mind about marrying you. But he didn’t so it was moot, until now. You will be a very rich woman. More so than the small fortune you originally inherited.

“I know that money is hardly a consolation for the man that you love-” David sighs again. “Perhaps he said it in madness? He must have been very upset. Caught by surprise?” David offers.

“Even if he doesn’t mean it or doesn’t go through with it, I know that for you the point is the thought was there.

“However, I do think we must make allowances for Thor. I’m sorry to say. He is a king and he’s responsible for his entire people. A baby would give them security. Stability. A legitimate heir would tie them to Earth forever.

“We musn’t make light of his choices. This isn’t a common situation to find one’s self in. For either of you.”

“David, I’m pregnant.” You finally explain, knowing that it will maybe just show him a little bit more of what you’re facing. “I went to tell Thor and that’s when I overheard them.”

For a moment he’s speechless. When he speaks again, his voice is heightened.

“Congratulations! I-I knew it would happen eventually. The timing is a little-”

“I haven’t told him yet, clearly.”

Silence again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I was so happy when I went to tell him and then I heard their conversation and I-I just can’t find the strength to do it right now. Not until I know whether he wants the annulment.”

David breathes in deeply and then exhales slowly into the phone. His breath is light and soft.

“You’re afraid that he will only stay with you because of the child,” a statement.

David knows you better than anyone else in your life. It’s not surprising that he’d make the leap so quickly.

“He’s willing to leave me and marry Jane because of her baby. It’s possible that he’ll stay by my side only because of our baby and I’d rather he do what’s best for our people than to stay with me because of a sense of obligation.”

“It could be that Jane will not want him. She might keep her child away from the Asgardian royal court. Didn’t she refuse to marry him because she didn’t want to be Queen?” David’s voice is pensive. “This might all feel much larger than it is. I suggest you take some time to really think through your actions before making any decisions.”

“I’m not going to never tell him, David. He’s the father of my child. He has to know that he has two and not just the one. I don’t think I could do that to him. I could never keep him from his children.

“Either of them.”

“You are magnanimous, Y/N. More than even I thought you were capable of.”

“Bullshit. I ran away and am refusing to see him until I get my week of space,” you nod firmly. “But David-?”

“Tell me,” he urges you, recognizing your tone of anguish.

“I-I know that I accepted this marriage hesitantly. It wasn’t like I asked for it and you know how I felt before Thor asked me to marry him. You know how s-scared I was about marrying someone who was in love with someone else, and now...now he’s-”

“He’s married to you, Y/N. Not Ms. Foster. And from what I have been able to see, he does love you. Not Jane. This is a temporary setback. If you’re angry at him, be angry at him. Don’t pretend you aren’t. If you’re hurt, show it. Wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Loving someone is one of life’s greatest blessings. Sometimes that love doesn’t last, sometimes it takes a beating. But you must choose whether your love is worth fighting for.

“You’ve also got obligations that you cannot escape from. Duties to your people as their Queen.”

“Assuming Thor doesn’t leave me and take my crown,” you scoff.

“I’m with your brother-in-law. I don’t think it will come to that. I think Thor was a little shocked and thrown by Ms. Foster’s news. Now that he has had some time to think, I believe he’ll do right by you and when you tell him, your child.”

“I won’t tell him until he makes up his mind,” you insist.

“That is your prerogative. Do what you need to. What can I do to help? What do you need from me?”

“Just be prepared for any eventuality. I’m not sure what’s going to happen at the end of this week. Oh, and if Thor calls you--just make something up and tell me what you say. He thinks you drove me from the airport and have been staying with me.”

“Using me as your alibi so that your husband won’t come looking for you,” David clicks his tongue. “How much detail shall I give him?”

“You’ve got a job too, just tell him you’re coming and going. Tony had his staff install some security on the house after the honeymoon. I’m safe here. He’ll believe that I’m safe if that’s all you say.

“Anyway, I need to go. I have two more calls to make before I can relax and enjoy my break from the throne.”

“If you need anything, you know how to reach me. Anything, Y/N. I mean it.”

“Thanks, David. I can always count on you,” you smile.

Just a tiny one. A very subtle curve at the corners of your lips.

“Well, you do pay me,” he jokes, which actually pulls a small laugh from you.

“Right. Bye, David.”

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

You take only a minute to think about your conversation with David before you make the most important calls of your week in solitude.

The first one is simple. Just a reminder of doctor-patient confidentiality. He understands what you’re saying even if he doesn’t practice by that mentality.

Dr. Wilson’s phone call is more difficult. She wants an explanation. She wants to know why she’s not allowed to tell your husband, the King of New Asgard, that he’s finally got what you and he have been wanting.

An heir!

It’s painful to talk about but you tell her what’s happened. You tell her that Thor doesn’t know that you know about Jane’s baby.

She’s very quiet as you talk. She assumes things and you can hear her anger when she starts to ask for what she can tell Thor.

“He didn’t cheat on me, Dr. Wilson,” you explain, hoping that this will ease her anger.

You’re angry at Thor because of the annulment, not because he and Jane have created a life from their love. You’re hurt because he’s willing or was willing--you’re not sure yet--to leave you to be with Jane, even if not for love but for the baby growing within her.

You’re hurt because the man you love was choosing his duty over his feelings for you.

Even though you know that he’s right to do it. Even though you know that you should understand because he’s King and you also took an oath to put the people of New Asgard first.

It’s your duty to put their well-being before your own. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

In Thor’s mind, his only duty is to his child. Jane’s child. He doesn’t know you’re carrying one of your own yet. Even though that would probably make sure that he stays with you because of the baby, you don’t want that to be the reason he stays.

Proud fool.

“Thor slept with Jane the same night he proposed to me. This was before we loved each other, when leaving Jane was the hardest thing he’d had to do. I don’t hold that against him.”

You don’t tell her about the annulment. She doesn’t need to know how messy this all is.

“He’ll probably call for you and Dr. Alric soon. Loki suggested they get Jane checked so act surprised? But please don’t tell him I’m pregnant. Not yet. He’s coming to see me at the end of the week and I’ll tell him myself then. Please?” And it really is a genuine plea.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Your Majesty. I would like to come and check on you. You don’t sound well.”

She’s very sweet and her concern is touching.

“Thor will probably send you to me eventually. He’s worried but he’s clearly got other things on his mind.”

“I’ll make arrangements to head over there tomorrow. Oh, can you hold for one minute Your Majesty? I’m so sorry.”

“Of course.”

There’s silence on the phone for a few minutes before she comes back.

“It was His Majesty. He’s told me about Jane but she’s not available for an examination until later in the week. So, he’s asked me to come to you first. I’ll be there tonight.”

For some reason, the idea of having her with you eases some of the stress you’ve been carrying with you since yesterday.

“I’ll call and have a car sent for you.”

“Actually, His Majesty has promised to bring me straight to you via bifrost.”

“Wait, what?” You sit up in bed, clutching your blanket to your chest as your nerves suddenly fray and panic begins to build up within you.

“Should I come by plane?” She asks, worried by the sound of your voice.

You can’t see Thor. No. You can’t.

“No. I’ll just be going out later tonight to pick up a few things that I need here at the house. Toilet paper, napkins, laundry soap. I just didn’t want you to get here when I was out, but I’ll text you the passcode to get in.”

You’ll just have to make sure that you’re not at home when they come. That’s what you’ll do. This is a perfect excuse to be out since you need to get the stuff you listed anyway.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t just like me to come by plane?”

“No, really. The sooner you get here, the better. The car ride is so long from the airport. I’ll see you tonight, Dr. Wilson.”

“Bye, Your Majesty.”

Even though you know that you have hours upon hours until Thor brings Dr. Wilson here, you force yourself out of bed and abandon your plans to wallow in your feelings so that you can shower, get dressed, and leave the house.

If Thor’s coming, you’re going to be as far away from your house as you can be. You’re not ready to see him again just yet. You only have small errands to run but you’re gonna stay out all damn day if it’s the last thing you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

Thor is at a loss. Completely and utterly lost without you.

If he was ever in doubt as to how he really felt about you--which he never has been because he knows himself well enough to know better--he knows now that you are the light of his new life here on Earth.

His reign would mean significantly less without you at his side.

Even though the time you’ve spent together has been a short few months, they have been the best months of his life.

If he’d had one of those other women he’d interviewed become his Queen, this life he’s chosen to lead would have felt empty and tedious. Instead of watching his Queen spend her time with his people leading the way in progress.

You’re so eager to be part of the Asgardian populace. They’ve embraced you so fully.

With a sigh, Thor leans forward and buries his face into his hands as he mentally trashes himself for the absolute fool that he’s been about this entire situation.

The fact that he’d even entertained the thought of leaving you.

He wants to cry and tear his hair out in frustration.

Should he tell you that the thought was weighed along with many others at Jane’s news?

And Jane.

Thor groans.

She’s been avoiding him since she told him. He can’t exactly blame her for it. He hadn’t exactly taken the news well.

He had no reason to expect her to be receptive to him after he’d basically accused her of being confused about it. She knew her own body. If she said she was pregnant, what reason would he have to doubt her?

He’s messed everything up so much and he’s terrified to tell you about Jane.

What if you have the same idea he did? What if you decide to leave him in some foolish attempt to have him marry her and legitimize his future child?

It’s something you would do. Sacrifice yourself so that he could do the right thing.

The thought of living this life of rule without you at his side is unbearable.

With another frustrated groan, he gets up and moves to pace the length of the room, ignoring the large pile of paperwork on his desk as his mind moves in circles.

It always comes back to you.

And then you’d been out when he’d gone to drop off Dr. Wilson. He hadn’t expected you to be gone. He’d wanted to see you. To hold you. Touch you. Hear your voice after so much turmoil.

You are his only solace.

Going so close to you and not seeing you has left him with a terrible pain in his chest.

His phone rings.

Thor dives for his phone and fumbles with it as he grabs it off the bed. He almost loses it over the opposite edge.

He literally throws himself towards it and lands with a grunt onto the bed as he catches it.

He presses the button on the screen without looking to see who it is because he only wants it to be you.

“Cherub?” he gasps, his voice an octave higher than normal with the little bit of exertion he just underwent.

“Oh, no. Sorry, Your Majesty, it’s Dr. Wilson. I was just calling to give you your daily report on Her Majesty’s health.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I just haven’t heard from-” He clears his throat, sits up, and slides to the edge of the bed. “No matter. How is my Queen, doctor?”

“She was asleep. But just woke up. She’s very tired. Her throat is better, but she’s had a fever every morning since Sunday.”

Thor sits up straighter, hand clenched into a fist around the edge of the bed as his heart starts to thrum loudly.

“Is she seriously ill?”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty. But she really does need rest. She has been under severe stress and I’m sorry to say that your constant messages are not letting her rest.”

Thor’s heart drops and buries itself into a hole at the bottom of his stomach. He feels numb suddenly, fearful of what he might be doing to you. The guilt of what he knows he must tell you soon also weighs down on him.

“Are you saying that I should leave her be until she is recovered?” Thor checks, just in case he’s not understanding correctly.

“I’m saying that if you want her to get well quickly, you must give her what she asked you for. She needs rest.”

Thor hates that he can’t be there to check on you. He wants to feel you close. He wants to see you. What if you’re deathly ill and you’re telling Dr. Wilson to lie for you?

You abhor lies and cherish honesty , but he can see you lying in order to spare him pain. Just as he is lying to spare you the worry of all this uncertainty with Jane.

Although he knows that he can never lose you now and even with a child coming with Jane, you are his wife and he can’t leave you. He was stupid to think he could even try. The thought was a sin and he’ll never forgive himself for thinking it.

Loki was so angry with him.

Rightfully so.

The good thing is that you’ll never know how bleak things looked. At least he has found his sanity again.

“Will you keep me informed? I’ll stop contacting her if you will promise to tell me how she fares. If she gets worse, I want to know.” Thor insists, his voice passionate and begging.

“You have my word, Your Majesty. Have you heard anything from Ms. Foster? Do we know exactly when we’ll be running her tests?”

“She’s very busy. As of now, it’s looking more and more likely that we won’t be able to find the time until the week’s end. After we confirm her pregnancy, I’ll tell Y/N. I’m sorry that I’ve asked you to collude in this business.”

There’s a long pause and for a moment Thor thinks that maybe the phone has disconnected but then Dr. Wilson sighs, “I cannot wait for this week to be over. Will you come back for me then? When she’s ready?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up in the same spot that I left you. My wife wasn’t too upset about her lawn, was she? Only, Stark seems to get irritated with me every time I land on his.”

“No,” Dr. Wilson chuckles once. “She was not upset. Again, there’s little more than her throat, head, and fever on her mind. I’ve gotta go. She’s gone out into the garden for some fresh air but I need to get her back into bed.”

“Please take good care of her, doctor. She’s...well, she’s my wife,” Thor finishes heavily.

The phone goes dead and Thor sits there staring at his phone until he can find the strength to get to his feet and go off in search of Jane. They really need to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday

Thor is upset.

He’s beyond frustrated by now.

He’s irritated.

It’s a week tomorrow since he’s seen you and he can’t stand the distance anymore.

Dr. Wilson snuck him a photo but you’d been sitting on your sofa, looking weak and withdrawn.

He’s not sure what exactly is making you sick, but he knows that he can’t go another day without seeing you.

He needs to get Dr. Wilson back here and he needs to get confirmation so that he can have something to tell you once he sees you.

He won’t lose you over this.

It was one last time. One final goodbye with Jane and he’d thought she was on her birth control but apparently she hadn’t been so he hadn’t bothered to protect himself from the possibility of getting her pregnant.

Why hadn’t she said anything?! Why hadn’t she told him that she wasn’t on her pill?

He knows it’s wrong to blame her. It took both of them to make this baby, but being away from you for so long is wearing thin and he’s losing all semblance of patience.

It takes some very careful maneuvering. Heimdall is sent first, then Hilde, then Loki.

None of them know why they’re going in to corner Jane in the tower except for Loki. Well, Heimdall knows, but there’s no hiding much from Heimdall. He pretends not to know and that’s good enough for Thor.

Loki is just stepping out of the tower when he turns to look at Thor with a grave almost exhausted expression.

“She’s up there,” he assures Thor, frowning as he shuts the heavy door. “When will this end, Thor? Are you going to keep the Queen away forever?”

Thor says nothing, he’s too upset to speak. He pulls the door open roughly and stomps his way up the steps taking them two at a time until he’s standing on the top floor landing.

He can see Jane biting her lip, pacing the length of the room until she turns and finally sees him.

“Thor…” she gasps, not expecting to see him.

“We have to talk, Jane.”

She looks away, turning her back on him then moves towards her laptop which she carefully closes. She puts her hand up to her throat and turns to face him.

“I will have Dr. Wilson brought in and Dr. Alric to give you the same tests they have been giving Y/N. They will be confirming your pregnancy and once we have that, then we can all sit down and figure out-”

“I’m not pregnant,” Jane gasps, her voice filling the room despite the quiet breath that escapes her pink lips.

Thor’s stomach twists. It’s agony.

On the one hand, the words she’s just spoken are...they’re a celebration. They’re simplicity. They’re peace and a return back to normal where in his life there is only you.

On the other hand, he’s just lost a baby he never had. An heir that he’d been expecting and now can never get back.

He’d made plans for this child. He’s pictured his life with them, the happiness and joy that their birth would bring to the people of New Asgard. The assurance that they would always belong to Earth.

He’d picked names for boys and girls. He’d begun to make a list of nursery items they would need even as he lamented that the baby was not yours but Jane’s.

This baby would have, and had already begun to change his life.

And now this?!

“What?” he very nearly spits.

Jane is so flustered she’s wringing her hands hard, welting them red.

“I’m...I didn’t expect to come here and see you with her and see how fast you just-” she waves her hand as if shooing away some animal. “-moved on. It’s like you were never with me.

“You were both so happy and talking about the future and I just lost it for a little bit,” she shrugs. “I have no excuses, Thor. I’m sorry if what I said hurt you. It was selfish of me and I just loved you for so long. You were mine, you know? And now you’re married, planning to have kids, and your wife is so nice and considerate and even though she has every reason to hate me, she was polite and so damn perfect…

“I’m not afraid to say that it made me hate her. I’m ashamed of it, but not enough to take it back.”

The silence is thick. The air suddenly grows charged and Thor’s eyes shine a bright sparkling blue.

His hands crackle and his eye spits as if full of blue fire.

The sky overhead thunders and the world shakes with the boom. The lightning strikes sharp and fast, shaking the tower so that for a moment, Thor can see how Jane thinks it might topple.

His anger gives way to betrayal and his lightning fizzles out as he takes a step towards her, his brow furrowed, eye full of pain as he stares at her, searching for the joke that this must be.

There is no way that this is really happening.

“You lied to me?” Thor accuses.

Jane blanches, her lips going pale as she takes a step towards him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, I just-I didn’t want to see you with her anymore and I wasn’t thinking straight so I just said it before I could stop myself. I know that it was wrong and I didn’t think it would go on for so long. I wanted to tell you almost as soon as I said it that it wasn’t true, but then you just took off and then the Queen left and I wasn’t sure if you told her and maybe that’s why she wasn’t here.”

Thor shakes his head, turning away from her as he paces towards the stairs but then turns back, his anger returning but full of pain now.

“I defended you. When Loki insisted I have you tested I asked him if he doubted you and I assured him that you would not lie about something this important. What reason would you have to lie?” he demands, almost of himself instead of Jane.

“Thor,” Jane begins.

“How long were you going to let me think you were carrying my child? How long were you planning to con me?” he accuses and his words seem to hurt Jane.

Thor can’t find it in him to care too much.

“I wasn’t-that’s not what I meant to do, Thor. Please, you have to believe me. I just didn’t know how much seeing you with her would-”

“You have no right to be upset!” he booms, his voice loud and it startles Jane quiet.

She’s never heard him angry like this. She’s never heard his voice raised.

“I gave you every opportunity to be with me, to marry me, to build a life here with me and be my Queen. You didn’t want it! You flat-out refused to be tied down by me and this Kingdom but now that you see me and my wife happy, you change your mind?

“You have the audacity to raise obstacles between us because you have regrets?”

“Thor,” she tries again, but Thor won’t let her speak.

“Get out,” he says sternly, turning to move towards the stairs.

“What?!”

“I said, get out. You are no longer welcome in my home. Pray no one ever finds out of your treachery. And should you have the urge to return for any reason, don’t.”

Thor storms down the steps, so angry that each step shakes the tower.

He’s breathing heavily as he slams the door shut behind him.

The storm air helps to calm him a bit. It clears his mind at least and the past week zooms by him like an unpleasant movie.

All of that worry and the plotting and planning. The agony that he felt wondering if you’d leave him when you found out about his child with Jane was the most unbearable.

Your face flashes before his eyes and he knows that there’s only one place he can be right now.

He throws his hand out and a metallic whistling rushes closer before his fist closes around his hammer.

He swings it firmly and throws it up into the air as he makes for your home.

Now that he has nothing to keep him here, he’s eager to get back to you. He’ll tell you everything and hope that you can forgive him for lying to you about Jane.

Even though it was a lie by omission, it was still a lie.

“I’m coming, my cherub,” he whispers, so eager to have you in his arms again.

Nothing will ever tear him from you again. He is certain. Nothing. Not a false heir, or a former love, no doubts exist within him anymore. You are the one.

The only one.

[cuttoothed]

For day 4 of @jonmartinweek prompts "tea" and "tape recorder".

*

Jon generally tries to snatch a few hours’ sleep each night. Not by choice; there’s so much to do, so much he’s sure he isn’t doing, and his dreams are a fresh horror every night. But he’s read enough studies about the effects of sleeplessness—declining mental acuity, impaired decision making—and he needs all his faculties about him with the threat of the Unknowing looming closer by the day.

So, around one in the morning, when his eyes are gritty and it’s getting hard to focus on the page in front of him, he retreats to the cot in Document Storage.

He could go home; he has a new flat, in a nice, modern apartment building. But his possessions that didn’t get lost during his eviction in absentia from his previous flat, or taken as evidence by the police, are still mostly here, in boxes that he keeps intending to take to the new flat, and keeps not getting around to. It’s just easier, staying in the Archives when he has so much to learn, when so much depends on him learning the right things, even while he has farcically little clue of what those might be.

He doesn’t examine the idea that the Archives feels more like home than his unlived in new flat, or even than the old flat he’d occupied for four years; it is what it is.

Tonight, Jon can’t get comfortable. He’s gotten used to the cot over the past couple of years, its lumps and creaks practically old friends. But tonight it seems to be rebelling, jabbing what feels like about a dozen springs into his lower back. Jon scowls and flops over, squirming to find a more tolerable position. As he does, he knocks his phone off the thin mattress, and it skids beneath the cot.

“Oh for—” he mutters, and hangs off the edge of the cot to retrieve it. As he reaches for his phone, he sees another object: a cassette tape in a case, lying on the floor beneath the frame of the cot. Jon frowns, and fishes it out along with his phone. He uses his phone torch to take a better look.

The clear plastic case is dusty, as if it’s been under there for some time. The label is filled out in neat handwriting, which Jon recognizes instantly:

Martin K. Blackwood — Poems

Jon considers it, chewing on his lower lip. Martin must have left this here when he moved out of the Archives, over a year ago. Recordings of his poetry; recordings of him reading his poetry.

He shouldn’t listen to it. It belongs to Martin, and it wouldn’t be right to listen without his permission. Yes, Jon read some of his poetry before, but he had been...not exactly at his best, back then. Martin would probably be embarrassed if he found out. Not that he has any reason to be; Jon’s no judge of poetry (heaven forbid!) but what he read was very pleasant. Lyrical and melancholy, a sort of yearning towards a kinder time and place.

It was...very Martin, Jon thinks.

There’s a click to his left, and when he looks down there’s a tape recorder on the cot beside him, whirring gently as it records him doing absolutely nothing. Just an innocent tape recorder, it seems to say, Not here for any particular reason; certainly not because you want to listen to a tape right now. Jon scowls at it.

“Fine,” he snaps. He removes the tape that’s in the recorder and slots Martin’s in. Just one poem; he’ll just listen to one, and then he’ll return the tape to Martin. He might never have another chance to hear Martin recite his poetry. He might never have the chance for a lot of things.

He presses play, and the tape hisses to life. For a few moments, there’s nothing but white noise, then the sound of someone clearing their throat, and then:

“Tea, By Martin K. Blackwood.

The simplest of things: a cup of tea

A grand tradition distilled to personal ritual

Delicately brewed, or stewed and sugared ‘til the spoon stands up

Not a cure for all ills, but a balm—a calming interlude

A moment to yourself; a welcome for visiting friends

A taste of home for soldiers in the trenches

A way to say: I was thinking of you, and I care—”

The narration cuts off with frustrated sound, and then Martin says:

“That’s—no, that’s bloody stupid. Try again.”

The recording ends with a clunk, and Jon turns the tape off before the next one can start; he’s startled to realize that his eyes are wet, his throat tight. His chest is heavy with some vast, inescapable emotion.

“God,” he laughs, swiping a hand over his eyes. “Getting emotional over tea, I must be tired.”

Except it’s not the tea, is it? It’s the soft sincerity of Martin’s recorded voice as he read the words he composed. The thought of him back then, stuck on this miserable cot night after night, scared for his life yet still trying to do something that brought him joy. It’s what Martin really thinks about tea, when he makes it so often for—for all of them.

I was thinking of you, and I care.

Jon wipes his eyes again and tucks the cassette back into its case. He shouldn’t have listened, but he can’t bring himself to truly regret it. Even if it’s selfish, snatching for pieces of Martin that haven’t been offered...well, Jon is greedy in that regard. He’ll apologize later, if they all get through what’s coming. If they get a chance to really talk.

The next morning, Martin looks up when Jon approaches his desk; his smile is warm, and Jon’s heart aches with it.

“Morning Jon,” he says. Jon feels the corners of his own mouth curl in reply, unbidden.

“Morning Martin,” he says, and holds out the cassette. “I, ah, I found this in Document Storage. I supposed you might be missing it.”

“Right!” Martin flushes, embarrassed. “Thank you, Jon. Silly of me to leave it there.”

“No problem,” says Jon, and extends his other hand, which is holding a mug. “Oh, I thought you might like a cup of tea?”

“Oh,” says Martin softly, taking the mug. “Yes, thank you. This is lovely.”

“It’s nothing. I just—I was thinking of you.”

And I care, he doesn’t add, but by the way Martin smiles, Jon thinks he understands.

[meganlpie]

First Date

Based on this request: Could I please request a Snape x reader one? They are having there first date and everything goes smoothly. Maybe at the end they are having there first kiss too? Thanks :)

Here you are, lovelies! I do not own Severus. He is Rowling’s property, I’m afraid. 

Warnings: Fluff...a kiss without asking, but then apologies, because consent is sexy. 

Pairings: Severus Snape x reader

When Minerva had approached him about dating, Severus had been reluctant to say the least. Now that the war was over and he had healed from his injuries, he was busy trying to make amends where he could. He was no longer a teacher at Hogwarts and not many people wanted to work with a former double agent so that left his days fairly free. But it also meant that Severus was wary about meeting new people. He never knew who was out for revenge for Voldemort.

         Still, Minerva was persistent and Severus finally agreed. That was how he found himself in a booth near the fireplace in The Three Broomsticks. No one bothered him there, but his date knew where he would be. Until they arrived, Severus was content to stay warm by the fire, sipping his butterbeer. No one but Madam Rosmerta knew, but he really did enjoy it. It was one of the few sweet things he liked.

         The door of The Three Broomsticks opened, letting in the chilly winter air. Severus didn't bother to look up until he heard someone clear their throat. "Severus? Severus Snape?" Severus stiffened a little as he looked up. You graced him with a small smile. "Hello. I'm Y/F/N." Severus gave a little nod in greeting before you sat down across from him.

         "I must apologize," you said after a moment, "My godmother can be quite persuasive. I don't usually date people I don't know." You let out a light laugh, making Severus relax a little. At least he wasn't the only one slightly ill-at-ease. "Yes. I worked with Minerva for many years. She can be quite meddlesome, but she means well." Severus snapped his mouth closed. He'd just spoken ill of your godmother.

         To his surprise, you merely laughed again. "Believe me, I know that better than anyone. She thinks I need someone to love for me to be happy. She once set me up with Hagrid. Nothing against the man, but he's a bit too wild for me. I prefer quiet evenings in, not traipsing around after magical creatures." Severus felt his shoulders loosen a bit more. Maybe Minerva knew what she was doing after all.

*short time skip*

         It took a while, but Severus was finally able to open up a bit, especially after you told him that, of course, you knew who he was. You knew what he had done, but you never once looked at him in disgust or like he'd betrayed you. "I believe in second chances," was all you'd said when he asked you about it before the two of you relaxed into easy conversation.

         Much to Severus' surprise, the two of you ended up staying in The Three Broomsticks much longer than expected. You didn't seem to care either. You were content listening to Severus' voice as he spoke and Severus found himself hanging on your every word. It was nice; the most pleasant evening Severus had in a long time. He didn't feel the need to hide himself as he had been forced to do for so long. He felt…free with you.

         The clock on the wall sounded off another hour, prompting you to glance up at it. "Oh. I didn't realize it was so late. I should go. I'm expected to work tomorrow." Severus felt himself frown and you chuckled lightly. "I feel the same. I would much rather stay here with you. However, St. Mungo's needs all the healers it can get. I had a lovely time, Severus."

         You stood and Severus did the same. "Allow me to escort you, Y/N. It still isn't completely safe." You smiled at him, knowing that wasn't true in the slightest, but nodded anyway. "I'd like that." Severus followed you out, grabbing his warm cloak and scarf along the way.

         Once outside, you held out your arm to Severus. "I Apparated. It's much quicker, although walking is an option as well." It took less than a second for Severus to decided on walking. After all, he wanted to spend more time with you. The smirk on your face when he'd said it told him that you knew that too. You were playfully teasing him, but for once it didn't bother him. This was a good teasing. Better than what he'd endured growing up. He enjoyed it.  

         As you walked toward your home, the two of you continued your conversation. Even though the air was freezing, you walked slowly and deliberately. Neither of you wanted to night to really end. In you, Severus found a connection with another person. He hadn't felt that since he was a child. In him, you found some you could really talk to. Minerva had indeed known what she was doing when she paired the two of you up.

         When you reached your home, you turned to Severus. For the first time all evening, there was a frown on your face. "I suppose this is goodnight, then." Severus nodded. You gave him a sad little half smile. "I hope to see you again, Severus. Really I do."

         Severus didn't reply. He was staring intently at you. Part of him was waiting for the shoe to drop. He hadn't done anything to deserve such a nice evening. And, even if the two of you continued seeing each other, who's to say it would last? Severus let his mind run away with him for a moment before he felt something slightly warm against his cheek.

         He froze as realization hit him and his face heated up about a hundred degrees. Those were your lips on his cheek. You pulled away, looking slightly embarrassed, but were smiling again all the same. "Get out of your own head, Severus. I mean it. I really enjoyed myself tonight and I'd like to see you again." Severus gave a nod. His eyes refused to leave yours. "I'm sorry," you whispered, "I should have asked first."

         "I-Thank you," Severus said, cursing himself for stuttering. He was a grown man, not some teenager, "It took me by surprise, but-"

         "I know. I'm sorry." You glanced at him sheepishly. Severus very carefully reached out his hand to take yours. It was your turn to be surprised as Severus didn't seem like the kind of man who initiated affection. The two of you stared at one another and, despite the chill in the air, you both felt a warmth that no coats, scarves, or even fires could duplicate. All-in-all, an almost perfect first date.

(I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @sirkekselord​ @aikibriarrose​ @lady-of-lies​ @esoltis280​ @motleymoose​ @sdavid09​

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: Secluded Village - Pt 3

Secluded Village – 3

Well this is going in a slightly different direction than I initially thought but who knows! I sure don't. Please give suggestions if you can. I have no idea what I'm doing

-

Another day in your life as a healer passed. Seeing patients, tending your plants, talking to Chester, mixing medicines, the day passed.

Word came that Lord Medve was recovering well, though it would be a long process to return to where he was. The cook, as it turned out, had been slipping him the poisoned mushroom. It seemed the cook was actually from a rival family and would benefit greatly with Medve’s death. His punishment was immediate and quick.

You shook your head, not wanting the details but appreciating the bag of gold coins you had been given in recompense.

A few days passed in your usual manner: healing, tending, mixing. You could not find an excuse to go back into the forest. As much as you wanted to, it would just be a waste of sleep. Though still, you longed to see the mysterious man again.

Within a week, your wish came true.

You were mixing herbs well into the night, not yet sleepy even though the hour was late.

Chester bolted upright.

You looked at him and saw the cat gazing intently at the door. “What is it, bud?”

The cat slowly sank back down and folded his paws under himself, still watching the door closely.

Carefully, you set your things down and made your way over to the door, double checking that it was latched.

Then a soft rapping came at the door, someone’s knuckles hitting it.

Chester yowled softly, straightening up.

You licked your lips nervously. “Please come back in the morning. I have things to tend to tonight. Unless it cannot wait?”

A soft voice, though muffled, came through the door. “It cannot wait.”

Your eyes widened and you threw open the door. “Loki!” You cried softly, mouth falling open to see the mysterious man standing before you.

Loki smiled back at you, stepping away from the door to bow low. His hair hung in curtains, obscuring his face and he straightened up once more. “May I come in?”

“Yes, by all means.” You moved to the side and motioned for him to enter.

Loki towered over you, walking in and looking around your cottage curiously. Chester had settled down and was now watching the strange man suspiciously.

“Chester be nice, we have company.” You scolded the cat.

Chester grunted and went back to sleep.

Loki smirked. “A pleasant creature.”

“Normally he’s friendlier.”

Crossing the room, Loki knelt beside the bed and stroked the cat’s fur. Chester started purring though still stared at Loki suspiciously.

“You’re good with animals then?”

“Just certain ones. I have something of an affinity for them.”

You smiled, heart thudding as you stared at him. “Oh. Well, that’s lovely.” You wiped your hands on your skirts and looked around. Swallowing hard, you returned your gaze to Loki. “So, what brings you here? Normally I don’t let people come this late but…” You trailed off.

“You’ll make an exception for me?” Loki asked, sinking into one of the chairs at the same time.

You put your hands on your hips and scowled.

Loki laughed softly and your scowl faded. “Forgive me. It is difficult to travel during the day.”

“You’re a night creature, huh?” You giggled.

Loki’s eyes flashed and then it passed, an easy smile crossing his face once more. “Is that what they call it?”

“I’m something of a night creature myself.” You added.

Loki nodded. “Yes, you do seem to be.” He looked around at the various hanging plants.

“So what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit? Though it is untoward to be single and having strange men in my cottage.”

“Single?” Loki repeated curiously.

You cleared your throat. “I do not have a lover.”

Loki smiled. “I see.”

Your heart fluttered. Once more you wiped at your skirts. “The villagers may think ill of me if they see such a strange man in my home.”

“And what do you think of me?” Loki tilted his head.

You felt your cheeks heat. “You seem nice, polite, gentle.”

Loki nodded. “I see. Though I should not mislead you, I am not gentle, and I am not always nice.”

You raised your eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I come from a village deep in the woods.” Loki shrugged, looking at his nails.

“There’s no village in the woods.”

“That you know of.”

You pursed your lips. “That I know of, no.” Then you asked, “So is that why you are always traveling in the woods at dark?”

Loki nodded. After a few beats of silence, he spoke again. “Danger is lurking on the horizon.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re intelligent, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Loki stood up.

“Explain yourself.”

Loki walked over to you, tilting his head down to stare in your eyes. His hand reached up lightning fast, and you flinched. Then carefully, with all the gentleness one might hold a babe, he stroked the back of his hand across your cheek.

You shivered at his cool touch. Heat spread further across your body, and you felt yourself trembling.

“You are so warm, gentle dove. Yet you tremble like a leaf in the wind.” Loki’s knuckles stayed brushing against your cheek.

You felt your voice lower to barely a whisper. “I’m not trembling.”

“Do you fear me?” Loki asked, tilting his head to the side, his hand still caressing your face.

“N-no,” you stammered.

“Perhaps you should.” He murmured.

You furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“I am not of your land.”

For a moment, you swore you saw the flash of sharp teeth as he spoke. You shivered.

“Does this frighten you, pet?” He purred.

You shook your head and stammered again. “N-no.”

“Perhaps it should.” His hand slid down your face and his thumb caressed your lower lip.

You felt frozen in place, unable to react as his cool thumb brushed your lips.

“I would steal a kiss.” He whispered, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently. Then he pulled away.

You let in a sharp inhale as he pulled back from you. Your lips still tingled from where his had been.

“Do you trust me?”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you nodded.

“Good.” Loki leaned down, moving the neck of your dress away from you. He kissed your skin gently and you whimpered, still unable to move. Did he hold some sort of spell over you? Or were you just that entranced?

You could feel his cool breath on your skin, sending gooseflesh across your body. Then very carefully, he kissed you again, before his teeth bit down and he sucked on your skin. With one hand, he held your head towards him, allowing him to kiss and bite deeper. His other hand slid down your waist and rested above your hip.

Stars burst across your vision and you felt lightheaded. The way his mouth moved on your bare skin felt electric and you could feel yourself starting to sway in his grasp, lost in the moment. Knots tightened in your stomach and your eyes shut.

Then the moment passed and he pulled away, fixing your dress. Loki licked his lips. “Thank you, pet.”

You swayed where you stood and smiled up at him with glazed eyes.

Very carefully, he scooped you into his arms and carried you over to the bed. “Rest, gentle one.” Loki murmured as Chester jumped down from the bed making room for you.

“Things are happening in your city.”

You nodded tiredly, still staring up at him dazed, your eyes half lidded. “Yes, what sort of things?” You mumbled, already feeling half asleep.

“I’ll be back for you when they happen. Don’t worry, pet. You are mine now.”

And then he was gone.

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 2

Masterlist

Medieval AU

- Norman Invasion of England:

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Warnings: mention of rape, a bit of smut

“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to stop you,” Henry said with a wicked grin. “We don’t want the whole camp to hear you whimpering for me, do we?”

“I’ll be quiet!” Thomasin whined. “Please don’t make me stop.”

Henry leaned back. “Go on, then.”

Thomasin sighed with relief and bucked her hips forward, grinding her center against the knight’s firm, thick thigh.  

She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten into the Norman’s tent, let alone how she wound up straddling him, skirts hiked up over her hips to allow for freer movement. 

She hastened her movements, desperately seeking more friction as warmth coiled in her lower belly.

“There’s a good girl,” Henry cooed. His smile was still teasing, but there was tenderness in it too. “My good girl. Thomasin.” She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She concentrated on her movements, on Henry saying her name over and over, his voice growing louder with each iteration. “Thomasin. Thomasin.”

“Thomasin!”

She woke with a start, gasping for air after her climax was ripped away mere moments before it happened. She was so shocked that she might’ve fallen from the horse if Henry wasn’t holding onto her. He was far too close for comfort, especially after that dream. The dream! Thomasin was convinced he knew about it. Why else would he wake her? 

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Henry said. He kept his pale sapphire eyes straight ahead rather than glancing down at the young lady in his lap. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” Thomasin snapped defensively. She took a deep breath to calm herself. It was far too early to quarrel by her reckoning, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “Why do you ask?”

Henry shrugged one shoulder. “You were restless, to say the least.”

Oh, God. “How so?”

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in thought. “You were making an awful lot of noise.”

What on earth did that mean? Was she whimpering or moaning like a whore? Did she call out Henry’s name? Or was she snoring and snorting like an old man as her sisters had often accused her? That would be embarrassing, too, but she’d much rather be caught snoring than crying for a man to touch her.

“You should get used to it,” she said. “I quite enjoy the sound of my own voice, and I intend to make rather a lot of noise with it.” The end of her threat was lost in a yawn.

Henry chuckled quietly; Thomasin felt his chest bounce with laughter. She flushed with anger, grinding her teeth. She usually had such an easy time driving people off. She meant to infuriate the Norman, not amuse him. He knew this of course, and it only pleased him more.

He was pleased, too, that she seemed to have recovered from whatever dream was plaguing her. He could swear that she was weeping in her sleep, twitching and thrashing to fight off her imaginary attacker. He’d tried to soothe her as best as he could without acting inappropriately. He’d tightened his hold on her waist and tucked her up against him. At one point, he even hushed her and told her there was nothing to fear. He spoke quietly so the other soldiers wouldn’t hear him – perhaps too low for her to hear. She’d fallen asleep just before dawn and snored awfully until she started thrashing a few minutes ago. 

The snoring was loud enough for most of the men to hear. Henry had a hell of a time trying to bite back his laughter so he wouldn’t wake her. 

He woke her when it was clear that she couldn’t be soothed because he couldn’t stand to hear her cry. Henry hated weeping women, partly because they were a bloody nuisance, but also because he simply didn’t like it to see women cry, especially beautiful ones. 

It never occurred to Henry that Thomasin might dream of lovemaking. She was too pure for it. He could tell she was far more innocent than she let on. Thomasin presented herself as confident and worldly, but she had never spent a night outside of her castle’s walls, nor had she ever touched a man save for a kiss on the hand. That was all in the past now. She’d never see her home again, and the Cavill brothers, it seemed, had no qualms lifting or embracing her like a puppy. 

“It is only you and your two brothers, or do you have sisters as well?” Thomasin asked.

“I’m the fourth of five brothers. We have no sisters.”

“Five?!” She managed to turn enough in her seat to look him in the eye. “Your parents had five boys?!”

“Yes.”

She frowned and turned back around. “You’re jesting with me.”

“I’m not,” Henry promised. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Charlie!” he called over his shoulder. His brother urged his mount forward so he could ride beside Henry.  “Lady Thomasin doesn’t trust my word.”

“Oh?”

“She doesn’t believe me that we’ve two more brothers back in Normandy.”

“It’s true,” Charlie said. “Piers and Nik.”

“Good Lord.” 

Every nobleman in Normandy near Lady Cavill’s age must be kicking himself for not marrying her when he had the chance. What woman could be so beloved to God that He blessed her and her husband with so many boys, and didn’t burden them with any daughters?

“I can hardly tolerate one brother,” Thomasin said. “I can’t think of a worse hell than growing up with four Hammonds.” Not that she liked her two sisters much better.

The eldest, Stephanie, was Thomasin’s favorite. She had long since left the house to get married, but she was widowed after only a few months and chose to take the veil rather than letting her father marry her off again.

Perhaps Thomasin should’ve become a nun. It certainly sounded better than being handed off to the eldest son of her father’s cousin, a grand idiot with a sword who’d probably fall asleep on top of her. But living in a convent meant a great amount of being quiet and sitting still, and that was simply out of the question.

“Why did your king send you?”  Thomasin asked after a moment.

Henry smirked. “Am I not a good enough captor for you?”

She ignored his jab. “Why you, though? We were sure King William was sending his great terror for us.” It’s why all the women and children had fled the Latymer keep.

Henry wasn’t surprised that Thomasin had heard of Baron Lawrence. He was a fearsome enemy in battle and a devoted subject of his king – and about as kind as Lucifer himself. He gained infamy throughout England soon after the initial Norman invasion by making an example of a Saxon baron who refused to yield. He killed the baron, of course, and executed the baron’s sons when they refused to submit to the new king. That’s not what he was known for, though; that was simply the way of things when a noble family resisted.

He gained his reputation by beheading the baron’s wife and daughters, along with the servants who attempted to protect them. It was rumored that he allowed some of his soldiers to have their way with peasant and servant girls, and that some soldiers made the women’s husbands or fathers watch. 

Such a thing would be considered a war crime punishable by death if King William hadn’t pardoned him for it.

“The king didn’t think you would appreciate that,” Henry said slowly. “He thought you might be more inclined to cooperate with us.” The Cavills were gentlemanly, pleasant, and even-tempered, which made them ideal candidates to deal with the Saxon shrew.

“My lord!” one of the scouts riding at the front of the convoy pulled up just in front of Henry. “One of the lads found a place to camp for the night.”

“How far is it?” asked Henry.

“Quarter of an hour, I’d say. Maybe a half,” the scout replied.

Henry looked up at the sky. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but they’d been riding since before dawn without a single break. “Fine.”

“Thank God,” Charlie said. “It’s damn cold and I’m bloody fucking tired from all this riding.”

“Charlie!” Henry snapped. How dare he use such foul language in front of a lady!

Thomasin wasn’t bothered in the least. “I’m afraid England is always cold. If you wanted good weather, perhaps your Duke William should’ve invaded a different country.”

“It’s King William now,” Henry corrected. Thomasin made a noise of discontent. 

The spent the next twenty minutes in silence until they reached a clearing deep among the trees. Thomasin found a large rock to sit on while she waited for the men to set up camp. 

There were about a hundred men in Henry’s infantry. They split into groups of seven or eight to work building fires or tending the horses. A handful were erecting a tent with branches and fur pelts. Henry stood nearby, frowning fiercely with his arms crossed over his chest again. His tunic was loose, but holding his arms like that, flexing his muscles, made them fill out the sleeves so they were pulled tight across his muscles. 

Charlie stood next to his brother, talking quickly and animatedly about something Henry clearly wasn’t happy about. Good. Let him be miserable.

The bear-dog sat at his master’s feet, wagging his heavy tail and looking back and forth between the brothers as they spoke. He had the size and strength of a hunting or fighting dog but the demeanor of a lapdog.  He soon grew tired with the Cavills’ conversation and padded over to Thomasin. He sat down and looked at her expectantly. 

“I haven’t got anything for you to eat,” Thomasin said. The dog was unaffected. He opened his mouth, let his enormous pink tongue hang out between his teeth, and started breathing very heavily. “Go away, bear. I haven’t got anything for you,” she said again. The bear chose to lay down. “For heaven’s sake. “You must behave far more ferociously for people to respect you.”

The dog followed Thomasin around for the rest of the day, which she didn’t mind at all. She rather liked the thing. It seemed to please Henry, too; he could concentrate on his work without worrying about the girl. Kal would look after her. He could even do things that Henry and his men could not, most notably accompanying Thomasin into the woods so she could attend to personal matters.

Thomasin didn’t know this part of the country – she didn’t know anything beyond her father’s lands – but it seemed hospitable enough. She found a brook with cool, clear water and took the time to splash water on her face.

“Do you have a name, I wonder?” she asked Kal. “Or does your master simply call you Bear?” The dog wagged his tail in reply. Thomasin frowned at him. “Where does this brook go, do you suppose?” she asked after a moment. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, though. As long as it’s away from here.” She spent the walk back to camp plotting the route she would take through the trees when she made her escape, which she should probably do sooner rather than later.

Supper was ready when Thomasin finally returned: The men ate loaves of thick, unpleasant bread and dried strips of beef as they sat in small groups around the six fires they’d set up. Henry had something roasting over his fire.

“Do you like hare?” he asked Thomasin as she came over.

“Yes.” She sat down across from him. “Why did you go to all the trouble of catching it? I’m sure the food you brought with you would be plenty enough for me.”

Henry sighed. “In truth, dear lady, I worried you would complain over the quality of it. The bread has the consistency of tree bark, anyway.”

Henry cut up the rabbit when it was finished cooking. He gave one portion to himself, one to Thomasin, one to Charlie, and offered another to his dog in exchanged for performing a series of tricks. 

“Your bear has the temperament of a housecat,” Thomasin remarked. “I’ve never seen a fighting dog that acted like he does.”

“He’s not a fighting dog,” Henry said. “He’s a companion.” He was looking at her braid rather than her eyes. It seemed a small miracle that it could be so long and yet untangled. But he was more interested in the color of it. Thomasin’s hair was a pale strawberry shade in the sun, but it became a deep, rich copper as the sky grew dark. Henry couldn’t decide which shade he liked better. Either way, she had the trademark passionate nature redheads were known for; unfortunately, her passion exerted itself in the form of aggression.

He wondered if her siblings had the same hair. 

“I believe I’ll go to bed now,” Thomasin announced, rising to her feet. “Sleep well, gentlemen.” 

The tent was short but fairly wide. That surprised Thomasin. Why wouldn’t they make several small ones rather than one large one? Didn’t Henry and Charlie expect shelter?

 She got her answer a few moments later. 

Thomasin was just settling in for bed when the tent flap opened. Kal came through first. Henry had to crouch to get inside. He didn’t speak. He simply laid down on the other side of the tent and shut his eyes. 

Thomasin lay in silence for a few moments, waiting for him to explain himself. He didn’t. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to sleep,” Henry replied without opening his eyes.

“In my tent?”

“This tent is in fact mine. I’m allowing you to share it as a courtesy.” He was tempted to open his eyes to see the expression on Thomasin’s face. He smirked at the very thought.

Thomasin wasn’t a killer, but she was quite sure she could cut off one of Henry’s fingers and feel no remorse. The man was a savage – an immature one at that. She may be his prisoner but she was not his whore or pet or plaything. But the only dagger in the tent was attached to Henry’s belt. Fine. She could wait until tomorrow to teach him his lesson. Most likely by shoving him off of his horse.

“You are positively indecent. I don’t know what you expect from me, but I assure you it will not happen. I’ll break your nose before I let you touch me. Aye, I will.”

“I have no doubt,” Henry said through a yawn. “Now go to sleep.”

“Do you know what?” Thomasin’s voice was deceptively mild.

Henry sighed. “No, what?”

“I believe your foul-mouthed little brother is more of a gentleman than you, and he is hardly a gentleman at all. Does your poor wife back in Normandy know she’s married a whore of a man with the courtesy of a donkey?”

“I have no wife.”

“Your intended, then.”

There was a pause. Henry opened his eyes and looked up at the roof of the tent. “I have no intended.” He did once, a beautiful young woman he showered with gifts and affection until she quite abruptly broke the agreement by marrying another. 

Thomasin bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She was pleased that he was unattached, but she couldn’t say why. What did it matter? “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Perhaps I shall ask my intended to castrate you once we’ve reached London”

Henry did smile at that. “Which intended? The unknown Norman baron William plans to saddle you with, or the Saxon coward that fled the moment our ships came ashore?”

“You know about Cerdic?” Her voice was more curious than accusatory. 

“Simon insisted we learn everything about you in case your brother or intended or some distant relation came to fetch you before we got to you.” Henry shut his eyes again. “It seems we had nothing to be worried about.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. Thomasin thought Cerdic was a horse’s ass and had once told him so. They didn’t like one another in the slightest, and it was no great loss for their engagement to be broken.

“Tell your bear to come to me,” Thomasin said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m cold and he’ll help keep me warm.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come to him. He stays by my side at all times. Or I suppose the two of us could come to you.”

The two of us! Well at least if he came close enough, she could grab the dagger at his hip more easily. Maybe she could stab him with it. Bastard.

“I’ll allow it.”

She lay on her side, facing away from them. The bear-dog fell to the floor with a great thump rather than taking the time to lie down gently. Thomasin scooched until her back was right against his. Henry lay down on the dog’s other side, his side pressed against the dog’s as closely as Thomasin was pressed to its back. 

“You shouldn’t be sleeping so close to me,” Thomasin chided.

“I was in your room with you when you changed your clothes and you’ve been sitting in my lap all day. I think we’re past the point of worrying about closeness, don’t you?”

“If you toss about in your sleep and get too close to me, I promise I’ll smack you.”

“Luckily for you, I’m a very deep sleeper. You’re the one that snores and kicks.”

“Goodnight, Henry,” she said pointedly.

“Goodnight, Thomasin.”

“Do be quiet, Henry. I’m trying to sleep.”

Henry chuckled; the sound warmed Thomasin’s heart. But it didn’t change anything. She wasn’t going to throw him off of the horse tomorrow; she wouldn’t be able to because she wouldn’t be there. She was going to escape. Tonight.

[logan-please-smile-speaks]

[Long, Tw food (in depth descriptions), brief references to unnamed heavenly beings of no specified religion, brief reference to hell. Not really any angst. Just good Dadza.]

[Hurt/comfort my beloved]

Me: i can't write

Also me: writes an entire fic by accident while telling my friend about an idea I had

(I'm gonna need this ask back at some point so don't keep it too long, okay? But make sure to take care of yourself (unlike Techno sksksks))

(How many words is this) (Cenn I've been writing this for like 3-4 hours. I've been hyperfixating on this)

-@2ble

I had this really cute idea where Techno gets sick after doomsday and Dadza takes care of him (for an animatic, or? How should i draw techno?)

Phil's Dadza side kicks in. He gently pushes Techno, who is in full garb back into bed. "Techno, you're sick. You can't go."

"But I haven't streamed in 2 weeks!"

"Rest."

Techno turns on his side in bed. Dadza gently pulls the blankets up and tucks them around Techno. Techno begins to cough, and the coughs rack his body. Dadza's expression is soft and concerned. He rubs his hand on Techno's back until he stops coughing. Techno closes his eyes. He's exhausted.

Dadza takes Techno's crown and places it on the bedside table.

He observes his ill friend. Techno is nothing like what he was up until Doomsday. He seemed--weak. Vulnerable. Sick.

"Have you had anything to eat, Techno?"

Techno doesn't open his eyes. He shakes his head. "I ran out of food a few days ago. I meant to get more but..." Techno doesn't want to admit that he couldn't get downstairs. He doesn't want to admit to weakness, to vulnerability. But everytime he thought of searching through chests, of trading with the villagers, they just seemed so far away.

Phil noticed a tear leaking out from Techno's eyelid. If he brushed it away, Techno would feel worse about his state because it would mean he was in fact vulnerable.

"I'll make you some stew."

Phil goes downstairs and tends to the fireplace. The fire seemed to have gone out sometime between now and the last time Phil checked on Techno.

How long has the house been this cold?

Phil builds up the fire and puts a cauldron over it. He makes mushroom stew because he doesn't know if techno can stomach rabbit stew.

When it's ready, he ladels it into a bowl and climbs the ladder.

Hanging off the ladder by one hand, he calls out. "Techno, stew's ready."

Techno's eyes flutter open. He sees his friend holding out a bowl of food and his eyes widen.

Phil notices that Techno is sweating and the blanket strewn to the side, only covering his feet.

"Are you too hot mate?" he asks.

Techno is broiling but he can't summon the strength to take off his outer clothes. His body refuses.

He's more focused on food. He's starving, and his body uses up what little resources it has left to sweat.

Phil walks over and puts the stew on the table. The heavenly aroma fills the room.

"Let's get this coat off of you." Phil reaches around Techno and unclasps the chain on his neck. He gently pulls the coat off of Techno's arm but he's still laying on it.

"Techno," Phil says.

"Whaaat," Techno drawls.

"You got to let me get this coat off ya mate."

Techno lets out a deep groan, then turns over on his stomach so his other arm is towards Phil.

Phil reaches under techno and grasps the coat. He pulls it out from under Techno and off his arm. The sleeve turns inside out. Phil fixes the sleeve and hangs up the coat.

Techno's shirt is drenched in sweat. He rolls over and starts fidddling with the button closest to his throat, looking up at Phil.

"Here, I'll get that for you." Phil undoes the button. He can't imagine how tired techno must've been after Doomsday, that he just collapsed in bed fully clothed, not even bothering to loosen them.

At least he took off his armor. Sh-t's heavy, he thinks. Phil ignores the fact that after the adrenaline and excitement wore off, the sore and tired Technoblade probably couldn't move with it on.

Phil pulls the blanket off the bed entirely, folds it, and places it on the table next to the stew. He pulls off Techno's shoes and socks and puts them near his coat.

They were also drenched with sweat, not to mention the smell--but it doesn't bother Phil all that much. He's smelled worse. He's frowns at the imprints on Techno's legs from the socks.

Phil loosens the rest of Techno's clothes. Techno seemed to were his tightest, least comfortable, most regal outfit to Doomsday.

Lucky for them both most of that was just accesories and pins, and Phil could easily remove those.

While Phil was doing this, Techno had been lying on his back, eyes closed. Though Techno tended to be stone-faced, Phil noticed the relief on Techno's face.

"How you feelin', Techno?"

"Philzaaa,"

"Yeah?"

Techno opens his eyes halfway, just enough to see Philza and the bottom of the bed.

"Do you have water?"

Phil procures a water bucket from his bag. "Thirsty mate?"

Techno looks at the water bucket and a small smile creeps over his face.

Phil smiles at his friend. He moves to the head of the bed and looped his arm and tattered wing around Techno and sits him up.

He holds the bucket up to Techno's mouth and tips it to his lips. Techno sips gratefully as the cool liquid pours over his hot, dry mouth and down his throat, cooling him from the inside.

"You've lost quite a bit of fluid, mate."

Techno lets some of the cold water slip out the sides of his mouth and drip down his face. His skin is boiling. The water dropelts running down his skin feel like heavenly beings allowing drops of mercy to fall upon him in the pit of hell.

Techno pulls back briefly to swallow and catch his breath and Phil rights the bucket. Techno leans in again for more water.

After drinking his fill, Techno leans back and wipes his mouth with his arm.

"All done, Techno?"

Techno swings his arms up knocks the bucket out of Phil's hand, dumping it on his head. The gush of water cools Techno, drenches the bed, and spills all over the room. Phil can't help but laugh. He picks up the bucket and scoops up the water source. He puts the bucket back in his bag.

"Had enough of the water?"

"Philza--I gotta be honest with you, Philza I haven't felt this good in weeks."

Phil laughs again even louder. The two friends are now in a good mood.

"Well now your stew is probably cold too." Phil tastes it. "Actually it's a bit warm still. Not too hot, either."

Techno scoots towards the wall and leans on it. He reaches for the bowl.

"Oh, no you don't."

"Phil, I'm a grown man-pig. I can hold a bowl."

"Maybe on a good day, Techno, but three minutes ago you couldn't sit up by yourself. No offense mate, but I don't think your arms have enough stamina right now. Now come on and eat."

Phil lifts the bowl to Techno's lips and lets him sip at his own pace. He pulls it back.

"How does it taste?"

"Pretty good but could maybe use a little salt."

"Eh, you probably need electrolytes as well after sweating through your clothes and drinking all that water."

Phil put the bowl on the downstairs counter.

Phil found salt in the downstairs chest and stirred it into the cauldron.

He heard the bowl fall to the floor behind him. It fell facedown and spilt on the floor.

Phil swore quietly.

He got a new bowl and more stew from the cauldron.

"How is it?" Techno inquired.

"Try for yourself," Phil said. He smiled as he held the bowl to Techno.

Techno looked at the bowl, then up at Phil. He took a sip.

Techno pulled back and looked at the bowl.

Phil thought he may have tainted the stew somehow. "Is it bad?" he started to say.

But he didn't quite get out anything after "Is" because Techno cut him off.

"It's delicious." Techno looked up at his friend. "Philza Minecraft, you should be a chef. This is the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted."

Phil chuckled. "All I did was add salt, what ya mean?"

"Phil, you have to sell this stew to the rest of the SMP. We could get rich!"

"Techno, I think the sickness may have gotten to your head a bit."

"Phil, I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life. We could be the the most powerful people on the server!"

"We already are. We just blew up a country. Down to bedrock."

"But we could get even more rich and powerful!"

"Well I'll be happy to listen after you eat. And rest. And bathe."

"I don't need to bathe."

"You're not getting out of it. You reek, mate."

"You can't judge me by the smell!"

"I'm not worried about the smell so much as what the smell tells me about your body. I don't know when the last time you washed was but it was definitely before Doomsday and I can't have you laying in your own sweat and filth for much longer. It's sh-t for your health, Techno."

"Philza--"

"Please just eat, Techno."

Techno leaned his head forward slightly and Phil pressed the bowl to Techno's lips.

Techno closed his eyes and savored the flavors. They were so pleasant, so soothing, so comforting. They reminded him of a time when he was safe and there was no betrayal. No war. No need for violence and bloodshed and destruction.

Phil, being a good Dadza friend, made sure that Techno ate an entire bowl. He brought Techno another bowl upon his request, of which he ate half, then left the other half bowl on the table in case Techno got hungry later.

After changing Techno's bed to clean, dry sheets and tucking his friend back into bed, he went downstairs to clean up the spill. He told Techno he would be back at sunrise to check on him. Though he might come earlier just in case. Sunrise was just the latest. Phil had decided that since Techno had gotten through the brunt of his hibernation and was now waking up sick, he should check on him at least twice a day.

Phil scrubbed the dried stew off the floor. He wondered what could've made Techno love it so much. Mere salt couldn't have made it so delicious, could it?

Phil finished cleaning the floor and the bowl and put everything away. As he was about to leave, he stopped. Eyes locked on the cauldron. There was something about it.

I can't leave that there, he reasoned. It will go to waste. If Techno like it, I can't let it waste or burn. I should freeze it outside.

Phil took out a bowl and knelt in front of the fire place. He scoop up big, full ladels into his bowl. Could it be that the soup was really that much better with something as basic as salt?

Phil dipped his finger in the bowl and sucked the stew off of it. He was instantly transported to his childhood. His mind played out feelings of safety, of healing, of comfort, of rest.

He heard his family laughing, remembered learning how to fly, the first time he soared high, feeling the wind beneath his wings. He remembered when Wilbur was born, holding the tiny baby in his arms, filled with love. "I'll always protect you. I'll always be there for you." When he met Techno, when he built the bee farm, and so on.

Phil was moved to tears. He felt loved. He felt like someone loved him no matter his flaws, his mistakes. Phil cried.

It was not out of pain but rather emotion. He wiped away his tears and drank the rest of the stew in his bowl, but it only caused more tears to stream down his face.

Techno was right.

Outside, watching through the window was the one who made the soup what it was. It wasn't Phil's salt.

He stood on his hind legs, paws pressed against the wall of the house.

He had been listening to the two friends talk, had been watching protectively as the wind ruffled his thick white fur.

He was Technoblade's guardian.

Soon he would be called Steve.

2ble this is literally amazing hello????

[totallynotafetishblog]

Privacy

I’m super into The M/andalorian right now and couldn’t resist writing some sick!D/in.

1.7 k. Set some time in the first half of S2. There are some minor mess mentions. Enjoy!!

Din was startled awake at the helm of the Razor Crest by a blaring alarm and flashing red lights. His eyes jumped from scanner to scanner trying to determine the source of the malfunction, and his grip tightened around the controls, bracing for a crash landing, when the beeping and flickering stopped. Turning his head to the right, he watched the Child sheepishly remove his hand from a switch.

Din sighed. "I told you not to do that."

Though the alarm had gone silent, it still echoed in Din's head, and he could feel a headache budding. "I'll be right back. Don't touch anything while I'm gone." The Child leaned towards the switch again, looking at Din the entire time. "Hey. No." Din tried to sound his sternest, but a tenderness in his throat which hadn't been there before he dozed off prevented him from speaking as loudly as he would've liked. 

"Here. You can have this." Din unscrewed the shifter knob and tossed it to the Child who cooed excitedly and rolled the silver ball in his hands. Now satisfied that his kid wouldn't cause mischief, Din proceeded to his quarters and pressed a button to shut the door behind him. He glanced back, confirmed that he was alone, and removed his helmet. He downed a pouch of water hoping to relieve some of the scratchiness in his throat and clear his head, but his symptoms persisted. 

To make matters worse, an obnoxious prickling teased his sinuses. Din did nothing to stave off the expulsion, well aware by now that he was coming down with something, and he sneezed openly toward his chest. "GSHHHHuh! hh...h'EKSHHHoo!" He grabbed a rag to blot his nose. "Ugh. Dank farrik."

The Mandalorian didn't get sick often, and when he did, he always hid himself away in his ship for a few days so he could cough and sneeze without his helmet on. Now that he had the Child, that would be impossible. The thought of keeping his dripping nose in his helmet was disgusting, but the thought of showing his face to another living being was unfathomable. There was no convenient solution.

Resigned, Din blew his nose a final time and put his helmet back on before returning to the cockpit. The Child was in the same place Din had left him, laser-focused on his ball. 

"Hey, kid. What do you think about spending a few days with Cara and Greef on Nevarro?" Din asked. The Child tilted his head curiously. "I have to take care of something on my own, but you should be safe there, and I'll be back as soon as I can."

The Child responded with a gurgle that Din took as an agreement. He sent a vague message to his friends on Nevarro stating that he needed help with childcare while he took care of a personal matter and left it at that. They were already in the correct sector, so the journey to the planet was quick and Din was able to keep his symptoms in check by breathing shallowly through his mouth, knowing that any attempt to breathe through his nose would be disastrous. 

When the ship landed on Nevarro, they were met by Cara and Greef, the latter of whom squatted and held his arms out towards the Child. "There's the little guy!" As fast as he could, the Child waddled over to Greef and allowed himself to be scooped up.

"Thank you for watching him," Din said. "I should be back in a few days."

Cara put a hand on her hip. "I'm surprised you're letting him out of your sight."

"I don't want to, but I—" Din paused as an annoying itch spidered through his nose. Though wearing a helmet while sick was mostly a hindrance, it did allow him to covertly scrunch up his face, attempting to quell the sensation in any way possible. "I... hh! need to be alone for thi-IH!-s."

Greef frowned. "You okay, Mando?"

"I'm f-fine. hxtCH! ngx'CH!" Din stifled as well as he could, but he knew he would have to give the inside of his helmet a good cleaning. 

"Yeah, that doesn't sound fine," Cara said, giving him a quick head-to-toe inspection and noting his tired posture. "Are you ditching the kid to take a sick day?

Din sighed, deflating. "Yes. I'll be staying here in my ship, so I'll be nearby if anything happens."

"Why don't you come stay in town?"

"A nice bed and a warm meal should heal you right up," Greef agreed.

"I need privacy," Din explained. Urgently, he wanted to add as mess dripped on to his lip. 

"You'll have privacy," said Cara. "You can stay in the back bedroom at my place. I just use it for storage."

The Mandalorian relented. "Fine. Let me grab some things."

He frankly didn't have much worth grabbing, but he was desperate to blow his nose before heading into town. He did so, and while it granted him momentary relief, the congestion was persistent. Aware that he would be fighting an uphill battle against his dripping nose, Din filled a satchel with clean rags that would surely be sullied by day's end.

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

"You can bunk in here." Cara drew back the curtain to her guest room, a cramped space filled with old shock trooper gear and unlabeled boxes on either side of a bed. The bed was small, but no doubt softer than the sleep mat in the Razor Crest. "Greef'll keep watch outside in case anyone tracked you here. I'll be hanging out around the house with the kid." She bounced the Child on her hip, and he giggled. 

"Thank you," Din said. "Will you be okay watching him?"

"As long as he doesn't try to choke me again." The Child blinked at her with his big eyes and tilted his head.

Din knelt down so his visor was level with the Child's eyeline. "Hey. Be good. Cara has very kindly agreed to help us out, and I want you to be on your best behavior, okay?"

The Child made a gesture that Din took as a nod, and Din patted him between the ears.

Steadying himself with a hand against the wall, Din stood back up despite his muscles' protests. He felt utterly drained. Given his constant travelling, it was impossible to say where he'd picked up this illness which made it difficult to know what exactly it was, but it was hitting Din hard and fast. He turned away from Cara and failed to suppress a chesty coughing fit.

"Go rest," Cara said. "That sounds disgusting." 

"Are you sure you can handle—?"

"Yes, Mando. Now get in that bed, or I'll make you get in." 

Cara walked off with the Child in tow, and Din closed the curtain at the room's entrance behind him. Finally alone, he set his helmet on some boxes beside the bed and let himself collapse into the mattress. 

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

Din was startled awake by a knock on the wall outside of the room. Unsure whether he'd been laying there for minutes or hours and head heavy with congestion, he hastily redonned his helmet.

"Mando?" Cara called. "I'm leaving some food outside if you—"

The curtain opened, and Cara raised her eyebrows upon seeing the Mandalorian out of bed and in full beskar armor. 

"You didn't take your armor off?" she asked, giving him a once-over.

"It's—" Din cleared his aching throat. "It's easier to leave it on in case something happens. I slept without my helmet, though."

Cara gave him a half-teasing, half-affectionate grin. "Nothing's going to happen. I promise. The kid is safe, and Greef and I have been keeping an eye out for any trouble. Just rest, okay? We've got your back."

Din nodded and accepted a bowl of soup from Cara. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I'll let you have your privacy now, but I'm not far if you need anything."

Closing the curtain and setting the soup aside for the moment, Din debated the pros and cons of taking Cara's suggestion. On the one hand, he would be much more comfortable without the weight of cold metal encasing his body, but on the other hand, trouble was drawn to him like a flea to an Ewok. As a faint buzzing settled in his nose, Din decided to take the risk and remove his armor. 

He tried to keep his hitching breaths at bay as he took off his helmet and tossed it on the bed. He brought a lazy arm up to his face, keeping it far enough away that he wouldn't accidentally slam his nose into his gauntlet if he pitched forward, but this rendered the attempt to cover was more symbolic than effective. 

"ih-hih... IHhh’GYZSHHHuh!" Droplets gleamed on the smooth beskar. His armor had certainly seen worse, but nonetheless, Din felt a little gross. His mild disgust only served to increase the relief he felt as he stripped his armor off piece by piece, revealing his skin to the cool air. Though the sensation of anything other than metal against his body was welcome, it sent a chill through him that reignited the urge to sneeze. Din tented his hands over his nose. "hihh'IKshHHuh! hh'ATShHOO! hihhh-ih... G'SHHUHH!"

Din sniffled wetly against his fingers and bent over to grab a rag from his satchel. He blew his nose unceremoniously, and his head felt five pounds lighter. Tossing the rag aside, he fell back into bed and idly sipped the soup Cara had prepared, savoring a rare moment of quiet. He knew that Cara was right: he and the Child would be safe here, and his friends would be there should anything go awry. It was unusual to find non-Mandalorians whom he trusted so completely, but it was a pleasant feeling. Holed up in Cara's back room, Din felt more at peace than he had in ages, even with the obnoxious itch in his throat and stuffiness in his nose. 

Maybe, mused Din, I should take a sick day more often.

[the-prince-and-the-smith]

The Ball (Logan POV)

Word Count: 1637

Logan looked around the room at all the dignitaries and members of the court that thronged in the ballroom. Not many people were dancing, most were just standing around and talking. Still, he kept scanning the crowd for the one person he most wanted to see. He knew it was a long shot and that he’d most likely be coming later when he had to talk with the king. Still, Logan kept his eyes trained on the entrances and occasionally the crowd so saw when the doors opened.

Virgil stepped into the room and Logan felt time stop. The smith had cleaned up nicely, wearing a coat of a rich purple. His shirt beneath was just as dark but in a blue hue that almost matched Logan’s own coat. His pants were as black as the coal he worked with. Virgil’s hair was done up as a crown around his head with delicate looking chains weaved into it, little flyaways catching the light and giving him a soft halo.

Logan took a breath and time seemed to start again as Virgil descended the stairs, scanning the room for him. The elder prince briefly looked around the room to lock eyes with his younger brother, finding him deep in conversation with both his suitors, before making his way to meet the Smith at the bottom of the stairs.

Logan smiled as Virgil met him at the bottom. ‘The Master Smith cleans up nice,” he said, trying to hide just how good he thought Virgil looked.

Virgil smiled, looking down slightly. “The coat was made by a customer who had some left over fabric and the shirt is on loan from my neighbor.”

Logan laughed lightly, linking his arm with Virgil’s and gently tugging him deeper into the room. “Well, at least you came.”

Virgil nodded. “That I did.” Still, he seemed slightly nervous as Logan led him to the back wall. There, they were able to stand with their backs to the wall and the floor in front of them. It seemed to calm him down some as he was able to lean back and not have his full guard up. 

Logan stood nearby, close enough to be within hearing range but still far enough away to be considered acceptable. "So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Arrowwood."

Virgil looked over at him, fingers of one hand running over a chain at his belt. "What do you want to know?"

Logan shrugged. "Life's story, every favorite thing you can think of, how you deal with emotions, what your job is like, who you are as a person. Just . . ." he trailed off uncertainly, "I just want to get to know you better. If it helps, we can trade facts. You tell me one thing and I'll tell you one thing?"

Virgil thought about it for a moment before agreeing. Logan learned a lot about him in that next half hour. He learned about both his favorite flavors and food as well as which one he despised. He learned which were his favorite tools and techniques to use. Virgil told him about his favorite places to go, promising that he might take him there one day.

Logan offered the same information about himself. When he got to his favorite place, he smiled. “It’s easier to just show you if you’ll let me.”

Virgil nodded. The crowd was getting a bit overwhelming for him as he was used to only a few people trickling in and out at a time. Logan offered his arm for Virgil to put his hand in the crook of his elbow and led the way. They left the ballroom and made their way down a few winding corridors before they reached a door to the outside. They kept going, around the building and down a small hill until they came to a small building made almost entirely of glass.

Inside, there were plants on every available surface. Some were on the floor in the shade, some were hanging from the roof, all of them looked healthy and many of them were blooming. Virgil spun in a slow circle as he took it all in. “What is this place?”

“It’s my personal greenhouse.” Logan leaned against a shelf as he watched Virgil explore. “I commissioned the local glass blowers and the royal Smith to make it and the shelves and I imported each plant myself. Every one of them is under my care and are my responsibility.” He shrugged. “It’s a nice stress reliever when I don’t feel like riding or sparring. It’s also just nice to be able to be alone and have someone listen to you.”

Virgil slowly took a turn around the building, looking at each and every plant. “Why are some on the ground?”

“I’ve found that they require a significantly less amount of sunlight than all the others, thus they’re on the ground in front of the shelves to help them with that.” Logan answered as many of Virgil’s questions as he asked, spending the next hour just talking about the plants.

When they’d exhausted the subject and the sun was setting behind a stand of trees, Logan led the way back inside. He subtly changed the topic from the greenhouse to Virgil’s occupation by asking him what he thought of the metal work and about his daily routine. Virgil talked about his work for the trip up and even longer as they sat on one of the benches that lined the ballroom, just rambling away.

Eventually, the band gave the signal that another set was about to start and Logan asked Virgil to dance with him.

“I don’t even know how.” Virgil responded, staying seated while Logan stood and held a hand out to him.

Logan laughed. “Just follow my lead and you should be fine.”

Virgil sighed but gave in, letting himself be pulled onto the dance floor. It was a swift, fast-paced dance, one that left little room for talking or even thinking as Virgil did his best to keep up with Logan and the other dancers. If he was to be the prince’s partner for the night, he was determined not to embarrass him in any way. The second dance of the set was only slightly less upbeat, each consecutive dance getting more and more stately until the last one was a slow turning in a circle, the pair’s left wrists crossing before changing direction and crossing their right wrists.

They danced another set together before resting. Logan was drawn away to talk with a visiting dignitary about trade. Virgil stood near a pillar and examined a nearby sconce. The craftsmanship was quite nice and Virgil got lost in thoughts of how he could learn from this and how he could have done it better. A tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

“Greetings. Would you happen to be Virgil Arrowwood?”

Virgil nodded. “That’s me. May I ask what your name is?”

He bowed slightly, his black coat fluttering behind him. “My name is Nate Brassard. I’m the son of the royal Smith.”

Virgil nodded. “I’m terribly sorry to hear of his illness. Is he coming back to work or are you assuming his position?”

Nate smiled. “I’d love to take over but my work is nowhere near as skilled as his is. However, I’ve heard that your work is beyond compare.”

Virgil smiled graciously. “I too have heard that. Having never met another smith besides my father, I have yet to test that.”

Nate nodded. Their conversation carried on as they swapped trade secrets, Virgil explaining how he got certain textures for the metal and how he made such detailed pieces. Nate explained the technique he was taught to do swirls without damaging the metal and how he did simple shapes with such complexity. Logan came back after a while, coming to stand by Virgil as they finished their conversation.

Nate looked at Logan before dipping into a bow. “You’re Highness.”

Logan nodded back at him. “How is your father doing?”

Nate’s smile was tinged with sadness. “He’s fading by the day. The physician isn’t expecting him to last the week.”

Logan hummed sympathetically. “I’m saddened to hear that.”

Nate nodded. “Will you be seeking his replacement soon?”

Logan glanced at Virgil. “Possibly.”

Virgil furrowed his brow and tried to figure out what that meant. Nate just laughed. “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk. Have a pleasant evening.” Virgil tracked his movements, watching him talk to one of the visiting princes at the refreshments table.

Logan leaned over, speaking softly so only Virgil could hear. “Would you like to dance some more? Or see the library?”

Virgil smiled. “I’d love to see the library, if it’s permitted.”

Logan nodded and opened a door close by. They entered a large room with bookshelves lining each of the walls, going above the doorways. There were cushioned couches in the center of the room with chairs scattered throughout. Logan stayed near the door as Virgil roamed, taking in the book titles and the covers being displayed. When one book caught his eye, Virgil paused to gently run a finger down it’s spine. He kept going but heard footsteps behind him and the soft shushing of a book being removed.

“The Queen and His Knight. A fantastic choice.” Virgil turned to see Logan leafing through it. He shut it with a snap before handing it to Virgil. “You can borrow it if you want.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, as long as you return it, I don’t see the harm in allowing you to read it.”

Virgil smiled and took it. “Thank you.”

Later that night, Virgil kept a candle burning longer than he normally did as he began the first few chapters of the book.

Last ask | Next story bit

[miss-tc-nova]

Contagious Affection - Riku x Reader

Oh my gods! I’m so sorry this took so long! Life’s been crazy, you know, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since you asked. Thankfully, things are gonna slow down for me soon and I can focus more on what I love: writing. 

I hope you enjoy.

~~~~~

              “Riku! Stop!”

              The perpetrator freezes, shock across his face and a fist against his eye. Huffing, I slap his hand down and proceed to clean it with a wet wipe.

              “Ugh, this sucks,” he grumbles, blinking awkwardly to relieve his clearly irritated eyes.

              “Yes, but if you don’t keep your hands away from your face, you’re gonna make it worse and get your germs everywhere.” I point a finger at him. “And if you give me pink eye, I’m gonna make you miserable.”

              Threats bounce off his resilience. “With you around, I don’t know if that’s possible.”

              “Shush! No amount of smooth talk will soothe my rage if I get infected! Got it?!”

              “Yeah yeah,” he says, clearly not taking me seriously.

              “Good. Now go take everything off the bed so I can wash it.”

              That saps his pleasantness. “Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard with this?”

              “Listen, I’ve had pink eye before—it ain’t fun. I do not want it again and if all this seems excessive, it’s only because sometimes you have trouble following the really simple instructions such as STOP TOUCHING YOUR EYES!”

              His hand instantly drops as he realizes what he’s doing. “Oh…”

              A stern point directs him to the bottle of sanitizer on the nightstand. I’m not quite exasperated with the boy, but I will be thoroughly annoyed if I get pink eye because he can’t restrain himself.

              Riku begins pulling the bed apart and I amble into the hall for clean linen. As I’m digging through the closet, the doorbell rings. Lo and behold, we have unexpected guests in Riku’s closest friends.

              “Hey,” Sora greets with a beaming grin.

              Kairi waves. “Hi.”

              The answer is pretty much guaranteed but it’s only polite to ask. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

              “Is Riku around? He promised to show us one of his master techniques he came up with,” the red-head answers.

              “I’m sorry, but Riku really shouldn’t hang out today. He’s got pink eye.”

              The last thing I expected from his two best friends is that they would light up at the news of Riku having a contagious infection.

              “Really?!” Sora exclaims. “His eyes are pink?!”

              No politeness is offered as the pair bustles past me. I close the door, a bit perturbed, and scurry after the two who have ambushed my inflicted boyfriend in the bedroom.

              “Woah! Hey! What the hell?!”

              “C’mon! Lemme see!” Sora demands, practically scaling the taller boy while Kairi watches expectantly.

              “Sora! Get off!”

              That’s when I see the hands reaching for Riku’s face.

              Snatching the back of his jacket, I tear Sora off and put myself between the sick and the visiting. “Woah woah woah! What are you doing?!”

              “We just wanna see!”

              Kairi puts in her defense. “Yeah. I haven’t seen his eyes change colors yet.”

              It hits me what they’re thinking. “Riku doesn’t have pink eyes!” I exclaim. “He has pink eye! And he’s still contagious! Go wash your hands!”

              The girl’s eyes widen as she comprehends but Sora is still clearly confused. “He what?”

              I throw a finger in Riku’s direction. “Look at him! His eyes are still green; the pink is on the outside! He’s sick and you were touching his face! You’re gonna get sick if you don’t go wash your hands now!”

              “You better do as they say,” warns Riku. “They’ve been disinfecting everything and threatened to tie me to a chair at least twice.”

              Finally, Sora hurries off to the bathroom and Kairi asks, “Isn’t pink eye pretty mild?”

              “Usually, but I had a pretty bad infection when I was little and I do not want to do that again,” I explain. “It doesn’t help that Riku keeps forgetting not to touch his face every five minutes.”

              His eyes roll at my complaints and a hand instinctively reaches up to alleviate the resulting irritation. It barely takes any thought to swatting his hand.

              “If I somehow make it through the next few weeks without getting it, it’ll be a miracle.”

              “You’re just being dramatic,” Riku reprimands.

              “No, you’re being careless,” I retort, resuming his half-finished assignment of pulling off the sheets and blankets.

              Kairi and Sora visit for a while, frequently forgetting that Riku is contagious until firmly reminded. On the bright side, despite his irritation, Riku doesn’t seem all that put out by his infection—I’d hate to see him truly under the weather.

              Bidding farewell, the guests take their leave and I close the door behind them.

              “Those two will have pink eye this time tomorrow,” I mumble.

              Riku agrees, “Probably—Sora touched his face like half a dozen times in the last hour.” Returning my full focus to the job of cleaning the apartment, I stroll towards the kitchen. “What are you doing now?”

              “I gotta make dinner. But I’m gonna be lazy and just do mac and cheese.”

              A grip on my shoulder pulls me around so he can lead back towards the sofa. “Will you slow down for a moment. You’ve been going non-stop since we got back from the clinic. Take a break.”

              He’s right but while I want to just collapse and spend some time with the sickie, there’s a lot to clean to make sure the contagions don’t spread. “Riku…”

              “Nope.” One more nudge puts me on the couch. “Relax. No one’s going to die, or get sick, if you take a break for ten minutes.”

              Attempting to thwart his task is a beeping alarm. “And that’s the laundry.”

              “If I go switch it over now, will you just sit with me for a bit?” My sigh of defeat is taken as an answer and he leaves to throw the clothes in the dryer before coming back to flop beside me. In an effort to distract me, his hands play with my fingers as we chat. It’s the most peace I’ve had since waking up to the invasive illness.

              Honestly, Riku’s always been the laid back one in our relationship, versus my nitpickiness; he can roll with life’s surprises better than I can. The boy wasn’t even going to go to the clinic until I practically shoved him out the door. And though sometimes this indifference can get irritating, he’s always been a pro at keeping me from going overboard and drowning myself in self-imposed responsibilities. In the same vein, I tend to keep things a bit more orderly around here. It’s not that he’s a slob or anything but—as evident with this pink eye—some things just get away from him.

              “Alright, now I really should go start dinner,” I hum. An annoying buzz sounds. “Is that the dryer?” I glance to the clock before swiping at Riku. “That was way longer than ten minutes!”

              “Whoops,” he chuckles, not the least bit fazed by my attack.

              “You’re terrible. How I get anything done with you around is beyond me.”

              “Because you’re amazing.”

              “Don’t try to butter me up,” I scoff. When he simply smiles, the reality of how hectic I’ve been today begins to set in. A soft laugh escapes me. “Geeze, how do you put up with me?”

              That grin softens, becoming the embodiment of admiration; it nearly entices me to forgo dinner to indulge in his company.

              That comfort falters when a ring of magenta sparks in his eyes, swallowing the teal color until all that’s left behind is that vibrant shock.

              “Because I love you,” he hums.

              First off, neither of us have come up with the courage to say that yet and I know I should be over the moon with delight, but I’ve never seen anything like this before so all I can do is stare. This is not the reaction he was expecting, though, and that soft happiness vanishes.

              “Oh my gods! Was that too soon?! You don’t have to say it back! I—”

              “Your eyes are pink!” I manage to blurt out.

              It’s his turn to stare. “Yyyyeah…I have pink eye.”

              “No! They aren’t green anymore—they’re pink!”

              The blush flushing over his face nearly matches the color of his eyes. “O-Oh…”

              “I’ve never seen this before!” I push off the sofa. “I better call the doctor and—”

              Riku’s hand snatches my wrist. Looking back, I find him wearing that same warm smile—that magenta shade undulating brighter. “It’s okay; it’s a dream eater thing.”

              This is where he has to explain to me what a dream eater is, how he ended up becoming one, and that his eyes occasionally change color depending on his emotions.

              “Is this what those two were talking about when they wanted to see your pink eyes?” I ask after.

              “Yeah.”

              “Oh thank gods—I was really worried about their sanity for a moment.”

              “You should still be worried,” the young man teases.

              We share a laugh but as I watch him, I can’t help noticing the brightness in his eyes. “So, if the color depends on your mood, what does pink mean?”

              I half expected the guy to break out in another full blush, but instead it only accents his cheeks as he smirks. “I know you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

              I’d kiss him if I wasn’t afraid of his pink eye, the sickness not the eye color. Still, I follow his lead: “I love you too.”

~~~~~

The next day…

              “I told you guys if you weren’t careful you were gonna get it too,” I scold, smacking Sora’s hand from his face with a wet wipe. “Stop touching your eyes!”

              He complains, “But it itches!”

              “I don’t care!” I snap, turning my glare on Kairi who’s halfway to rubbing her eyes. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna put eye patches on both of you and tie you to chairs!”

              “They’re not joking,” Riku adds, giving me the side eye. “I was stuck at the kitchen table for three hours this morning.”

              “See? Don’t tempt me,” I say, eyeing the sulking pair. I swear, getting these two to resist the urge to rub their eyes is worse than keeping the seagulls at the pier away from food.

              When there are no more complaints, I stalk into the kitchen to start dinner, of which I now have to make extra.

              “Thanks for taking care of them,” Riku hums, having followed.

              “It’s fine. We knew they were gonna catch it,” I reply, washing potatoes in the sink. A little simper takes over. “But they aren’t gonna tell me they love me and get glowing eyes too, are they?”

              “No,” he sighs. “Just me.”

              “Just for me?” I coo.

              Riku chuckles. “Just for you.”

              Putting aside the food, I tug at his shirt. “Say it.” I’ve made this demand a few times already so it’s no wonder he just laughs. “Come on, please. Say it!”

              I could fly our whole apartment building with the butterflies raging in my stomach at the sight of that fuchsia flash. With absolute adoration, he snakes his arms around my waist and nuzzles against my nose.

              “I love you.”

              Delighted, I bury my face in his chest, squeezing as tight as I can. His chin nudging against my forehead makes me look back.

              “Your turn now,” he insists.

              Without hesitation and knowing that I one hundred percent mean it, I respond, “I love you too.”

              “Good, because now you’re probably gonna get pink eye,” he snickers, indicating our close proximity.

              “Shit!”