#muse: sickly captain

[toomanydamnmuses]

I’m throwing Byakuya at everyone today. What are some of your muses reactions to Byakuya Kuchiki hugging your muse? You can provide context if you’d like!

((No context, only icons LOL))

[theemporium]

hi, can I order a 22, smut-berry daiquiri with quinn hughes please?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

22. “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

.

“Stop it.” 

You bit back your smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Quinn’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, taking a deep breath as he felt your fingers tracing along his thigh. He cast a glance towards you, seeing your eyes focused on your phone screen as though you were totally unaware of his dwindling patience. 

You had been testing him all night. 

From the stunts you were pulling before the two of you even left the apartment, risking the two of you being late as you tried to straddle him on the couch with your dress hiking up your legs to the looks you kept giving him throughout the night, something sinful in your eyes as you’d watch him with your lips wrapped around the straw of your drink. 

He was angry because it was working. 

His cock had been half-hard in his dress pants since the drive over to the event, twitching and straining against the tight fabric at every one of your little tricks. He had spent most of the conversations zoning out, half the mind to drag you off to some supply closet and fuck you like you had been begging him to do all night. He had spent the rest of the night pinching himself, reminding himself to stay focused on the countless conversations with important people he barely remembered the name of. 

And now, on the drive home where he was clutching onto the last of his control with both hands, you had decided to push him over the edge a little more. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he gritted out through clenched teeth as you palm cupped his bulge and squeezed softly. “Stop it or I swear to god—”

“You swear what?” You questioned in a sickly sweet voice. “Tell me exactly what you would do, Cap.”

Fuck.

“I’ll stop this car,” Quinn told you, his voice a little gruff as he spoke. “And I swear if I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

Your phone was long abandoned now, your elbows resting on the console as you leaned over until you were stroking him over the fabric of his pants with your lips by his ear. You were leaving soft kisses along his neck, listening to the way his breath hitched and his body relaxed as you nibbled on his ear. 

“Gonna punish me, Cap?” You mused, listening to the boy groan as you began to pull the zipper of his pants down. “Gonna teach me a lesson?” 

Quinn swore as he flicked the indicator, pulling into the side of the mostly abandoned road before shutting the car off and sinking his fingers into your hair to drag your lips against his. You moaned into the kiss, letting him devour you as you grew pliant under his touch. 

“I’m gonna gonna do exactly what I said I would and fuck you until you can’t even utter another snarky comment, baby,” he grumbled against your lips, his words making your legs clench together. “You wanna act like a slut, then I’ll fuck you like a needy slut.”

A quiet whimper left your lips. 

His smirk widened a little. “Gonna be good for your captain now, baby?”

.

[littlecarnet]

The Jewel, the Bird, and the King

Reversed Jewel of Life fic?

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

Michina know we prosperity for some time, a good four generations worth of bountiful harvests, a strong sense of quality of life for the people, and mild weather. It was everything a king could want for his small kingdom...save one thing...

The near constant vigilance he had to keep over the source of this prosperity...the Jewel of Life. It was both a blessed a cursed thing. Handed over from ruler to ruler til it landed in the hands of King Arkeos. It's power drew from it's king, and it's demands were great. Every year, it took from their life essence, often leaving the king fatigued and sickly. A good amount of rest would help them recover, but it took it's toll. It was no wonder, Arkeos mused, that his own father died at 47, his grandfather at 52, and before them, his great grandmother at 54. All of their reigns were short lived, which was unusual for the people who lived in this peaceful, lush valley. Most of the common folk lived well into their 80s. Arkeos knew the same fate was in store for him too, he would also eventually be drained of his vitality and die before his time, as would come of his three children, all of whom, were reluctant to take the mantle.

But...such was the price to pay for the continued flourishing of Michina. For if the Jewel fell into the wrong hands, the Jewel would tarnish and possible lose it's power. For it had to be passed down by a living king to the next heir. If it didn't, his home would eventually become a wasteland, the people would leave or starve, the weather would once again turn wild and ravage the land.

And today was a day where the Jewel was in danger.

Arkeos called upon his magician, Hupa, hailing from the friendly trade route of Dahara. Hupa had informed him that there were suspicious people outside the gates of Michina, claiming to be merchants, but the captain of the guard, Hetra, detained them for now, but two of the party disappeared into Michina. Guards were now looking everywhere for them.

Arkeos sighed. "Where do you think they would go?"

Hupa pondered this for a minute "If they were smart, they'd climb the south side of the mountain, to where our guards would have trouble accessing. Its the closest they could get to the throne room with few obstacles. "

Arkeos considered his next course of action. "Protect the Jewel, I will deal with them myself."

Hupa stepped back as Arkeos drew his sword. A brilliant, white blade often referred to as Heaven's Justice, for if held aloft, it would shine rays of light that would then come crashing down upon any who opposed the king. Hupa gave a small bow and placed a barrier around the Jewel. Arkeos satisfied by this, headed toward the turrets of the south side. He'd be ready for them.

Sure enough, Arkeos spotted the intruders, and crouched down, then saw they too were armed. Of course. One can't expect to just take the Jewel like an apple from a street vender. But Arkeos was ready. On his command, he had the accompanying guards with him stand back. Though the sword was powerful, it was unpredictable as well. It's beams could shoot allies as well as foes. The guards compiled and Arkeos made his move. The intruders were taken by surprise, one fell from the cliffside, but the remaining one lunged at Arkeos. He would not go without a fight, but neither would the king. The two wrestled, and the sword fell, skittering toward the edge of the platform. Arkeos prayed it would not topple over...but it something that made his stomach drop. Beams of light hit the rocks above the platform, and down...

Down...

Down...

...they went.

Arkeos tried his best to grab at the cliffside, ignoring the screams of the intruder that fell to his death into the rubble below. He managed to grip at an edge, but his fingers were slipping. The guards above him calling out to him to hang on. He shut his eyes tightly, whispering quiet prayers for help. Please, anyone, any of the gods....please help. Not for selfish reasons, though his self preservation certainly was crying out too, but for his people, they needed him. This valley depended on him for their survival. What would happen if he...died?

And then....

He fell.

He couldn't even scream. His voice caught in his throat, hand outreached still, as his mind, body all prepared for the inevitable.

But it never came. Instead the wind was knocked out of him when he felt a strong grip around his waist and the lunching, dizziness of being pull up into the air. He looked up and saw a dark shadow of one of the biggest birds he had ever seen.

Then it hit him. This creature was....

The creature circled the castle, as if looking for a place to land, and then settled on a small plateau by a waterfall. It's massive wings caused a small whirlwind to kick up, sending dust clouds around them. The talons released him upon their touchdown, and no sooner had that happened, the king kneeled in deep reverence. This gigantic bird of prey was none other than Damos, the Lord of the Skies.

"I thank you, my Lord...for saving my life!" Arkeos dare not look up out of respect, but felt a gentle voice in his mind reach out to him. It was startling at first, for it seemed to come from everywhere and from within.

"My king, it is I who should be thanking you." Said the voice, it was a bit odd, like a mix of two voices, two genders in unison. "You are very noble to lay down your life to protect the Jewel, to protect your kingdom. Such a deed should not go unrewarded."

Arkeos nodded. "I must, it is my duty. And I need no reward, you saving me is more than enough."

Damos brought his head down to Arkeos in curiosity. "Why do you not meet my gaze?"

"It would be disrespectful."

Damo's feathers fluffed up in mirth. A low quiet coo escaped from him. What a curious being this king was. "Nonsense, I wish to see you, my king. Please, lift your head."

Arkeos could feel the tone shift in the deity's voice, and lifting his head, their eyes met. Arkeos was struck by the deep, lapis blue of Damos, while the bird god was taken by Arkeos brilliant emerald green. There was a quiet few moments when neither knew what to do next.

[alien-hybreed]

INSECTOID INFECTION

Larissa is an officer posted to a research facility on a backwater jungle planet where nothing interesting happens.

Her disdain for her comrades is matched only by how desperately she wants off this humid hellscape. She doesn't even know what the facility is researching or why anyone cares. But when an alien specimen seeks refuge in her quarters... well, maybe it couldn't hurt to stay here...

Fire Captain Larissa Sile let out an exhausted sigh as the door to her quarters slid shut behind her with a whoosh. She'd hated everything about this mission and this backwater planet. Outside her window, dark clouds gathered on the horizon, overshadowing the tropical jungle outside. Great. Tomorrow will probably be humid and wet as well as a pointless bug hunt. She hated this planet when it was wet and humid. It made her armour chafe and her temper quick. The sickly sweet floral scent of the jungle became all the more overpowering. In the humid air to the point where it was vomit inducing. Throwing her helmet at her bunk, Larissa groaned. Putting up with the dickhead men in her squad was bad enough on it's own Together with this world's climate and the three weeks they'd been here as the sole occupants of outpost 38-S, well it was a wonder she hadn't vaporized them all and torched the entire outpost. Because then it would be just you and the jungle. Which you hate the most. She mused to herself.

Larissa hated the jungle. Not just because it was dangerous, home to hyper violent megafauna and ferocious insects the size of small cars. Or because it stank like rancid honey and flowers. No the thing Larissa hated most about the jungle was how she always felt like she was being watched. Despite her height, she was remarkably pretty. Her short black hair, steely grey eyes and sharp features gave her an aura of intensity that was reinforced by her tall, muscular build. Without saying a word, she radiated power. And yet that didn’t stop her idiot subordinates from joking about who got the privilege of watching her back in the field. They were creeps but that didn’t faze her. No, it was the way it felt like something else in the jungle was always watching her. That put the wind up her in a way she just couldn't quite put her finger on.

Unclipping her breast plate, she let it fall to the floor with a thud. Her chiseled abs heaved as she took a deep breath, savoring the cool conditioned air on her skin. Now to wriggle free of her arm armour and get this damn sports bra off, then she could at least wipe down her upper body and relax a little. A faint clicking somewhere in her room about gave her a heart attack. Whirling around to look for the source of the sound, her heart began to race. Again the sound clicked, all the more excited as if in response to her movement. Larissa drew her knife from it's sheath on her thigh armour as she scoured the room. She noticed the door to her wardrobe slightly ajar.

“Hoskins, I swear to god if you're in there with a camera, you are a dead man” she threatened, brandishing the knife in front of her with one hand while she reached for the door with the other. No response. There was a very real possibility that this wasn't her men goofing around.

“you know this sort of fucking around is how Deacon wound up in the infirmary, right?” still no answer. She put her hand on the handle of the wardrobe door. She was starting to sweat a little, it wasn't like her troops to not try and smartass her when they knew they were in shit.

“if you're just trying to have a look, we could blow off some steam together, since you're here and I was undressing anyway…” surely that would get a response. She was being quite sincere too. It had been a while and she wasn’t above a one night stand for her own gratification. No response, just more clicking. Ok, too weird, enough is enough she thought as she flung the door wide open.

With a high pitched screech, the intruder revealed itself. Lunging out of the wardrobe came a bizarrely humanoid insect. Its upper body and arms shaped like a man but covered in black chitin with tufts of fluffy white fur around it's collar and elbows. Its head was oval shaped and bug eyed, dozens of tiny mandibles twitching and clicking where its mouth ought to be. Bright red antennae extended from it's forehead, twitching as if they were searching for something. Its lower body turned into an abdomen and thorax with four spindly legs that held it up. All in all, the beast was about eight feet tall and sent Larissa sprawling with a scream. Before she could pull herself upright, it unfurled an enormous set of wings from its back, fluffy on the outside, texture like velvet on the inner. Bright yellow and purple swirls and patterns covered the inner wing, the longer she looked at it, Larissa could see flecks and streaks of orange and blue that seemed to blur into the other colours. It almost made her dizzy to stare at them but she couldn't take her eyes off them. Just when she'd thought she had them figured out, she'd find a another twisting pair of colours or spiral that hadn't been there before. The creature screeched and clicked again, beating it's wings as if it were excited.

Larissa tried to stand up but she was sluggish and drowsy, her arms and legs barely supporting her. She'd dropped her knife somewhere and should have been panicking. Instead she felt oddly serene, as if she couldn't be afraid even if she wanted to.

“you're uh… kinda pretty” she slurred. Everything felt heavy and warm. If this had been Hoskins, she'd be riding him now, she mused.. Sex was a nice thought. Sex was nice.

“you don't want to hurt me do you” she whispered. The creature trilled and clicked, gently beating its wings again. Larissa giggled as she saw in the light, spores floating off the creatures wings and swirling over her. It almost tickled as the tiny flecks stuck to her sweaty skin. It clicked again and somehow Larissa seemed to understand it's intent.

“you think I'm pretty?” she slurred. She should have just gone and fucked Hoskins. She could be fucking now. Slowly, she pulled her sports bra over her head and cast it aside. Gently, she squeezed her breasts together and giggled again.

“what about these, hmm?” she said in a voice she usually reserved for a date going extremely well. The creature chirped and flapped it's wings some more. More spores swirled around her and Larissa felt herself relaxing the more she breathed them in. The creature extended its arm, holding its hand out as if it offered to take hers. Such a gentleman, she thought to herself, reaching out to take it's hand. She giggled again as it pulled her close, it's antennae gently brushing over her face and chest as it continued to click and chirp. Larissa felt compelled to throw herself on it, to run her hands through its fur and stroke the smooth surfaces of its carapace. She then realized she wasn't just thinking it, she'd been doing it for a minute now, the creature's head gently nuzzling at her neck.

Slowly, a large, pink, fleshy tube began to extend from the creature's thorax. Several bumps and ridges lined the throbbing organ as it rapidly became about a foot long, it's tip barbed and hard like some sort of stinger. Larissa didn't notice at al as she gently kissed the creature's cheek. She continued to stroke the creature's fluffy neck with one hand while she frantically tried to pull at the belt holding her pants and leg armour up. Her kisses were growing increasingly passionate as she inched her lips towards the creature's mandibles. With a deft touch, the creature laid a clawed hand on her chest and pushed her back onto her bed. Larissa exhaled sharply and chirped back at the creature as best as she could. The same chirp it had squeaked at her, as best as she could mimic it. I want you, she knew that's what it meant but she had no idea how she knew that.

The creature clambered over her and chirped back, I want you. Again and again but then a curious clicking twist on the end. Something about being a part of a hive or making a hive? Larissa chirped back an even shorter burst, an affirmation of her lust, a simple want. The creature trilled happily and wriggled its mandibles into and around her mouth. Larissa moaned with delight at the sudden rush of stimulation and gripped the creatures shoulders tightly. Her hips bucked up to meet the creature's thorax, her armour still in place and loudly tapping against it's carapace. Larissa’s skin was tingling aa the spores bonded to her, faint wisps of white fur beginning to form around her exposed collarbone.

Slowly, the creature's mandibles gave way to a long sinuous tongue that wriggled into her mouth, pulsating and vibrating. Larissa closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation, the thin wisps of fur sprouting from the spores on her collarbone thickening as the reacted to her body's increasing arousal. She groaned as she felt the creature's thorax pin her waist down, the serrated tip of it's fleshy, pink appendage pressing against the armour on her crotch. Larissa fought to buck her hips up as she felt the crotch armour began to split and break. She ran her fingers through the fur around her neck and down over her collarbone. It had grown thick and long yet wonderfully soft. When her hands reached the skin of her breasts, they seemed sticky. She opened her eyes to look at her hand and saw thin strands of webbing trailing from her hands to her chest. Every inch of her exposed skin seemed lightly covered in the shimmering threads. She didn’t realize the spores had begun transforming her skin as such.

Panicking, Larissa tried to push her alien lover aside to get a better look at herself, but she could not budge him. She felt something warm and sticky in her mouth and she immediately began to relax back into the creature's embrace. She felt her crotch armour give way and something punch through her briefs and slither into her pussy. Her cry of surprise and delight was muffled by the mandibles in and around her mouth. As the creature slid its fleshy stinger back and forth in her, Larissa squirmed. The bumps and ridges raked at the inner walls of her vagina, the fleshy organ sending waves of pleasure crashing through her every nerve ending. Her skin tingled and her eyes watered as the avalanche of sensation pushed her to her limits. But Larissa wanted this. She dug deep and found the strength to push back.

Closing her eyes, Larissa squeezed her legs around the creature's thorax and set her own pace, her hips wildly gyrating as she rode the creature's cock as hard as she could. Another splatter of warmth filled her mouth, then another. As the creature's arousal increased, so to did the frequency with which it secreted the delicious nectar. Larissa did her best to lick the nectar from the insects mandibles between greedily swallowing mouthfuls of the bitter-sweet jelly. Larissa squeezed her tits and raked her fingers across her exposed flesh. As she did, the thin webbing peeled away to reveal shiny black carapace in place of her skin.

With a sharp trill, the insect withdrew it's fleshy stinger from Larissa's pussy. It dripped with the same jelly like nectar the creature's tongue had shot into her mouth, except it was Larissa who had produced this herself as her body began changing. She trilled and clicked back at the creature, no longer trying to communicate with words like a human. Instead she verbalized emotions. Want. Finish. Breed. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her eyes to be glassy black and bulging like the insects. She'd felt her tongue splitting apart earlier and now a clutch of mandibles and feelers of her own happily wriggled within her mouth. The increased sensitivity delighted her.

Seeing his mate becoming more like him, the insect happily chirped, its stinger growing stiff as it's tip opened like a flower. From the opening, a long, transparent ovipositor slithered free and writhed it's way into Larissa's pussy, snaking it's way deeper and deeper into her until it felt like it was buried in her womb. Exhausted by her earlier efforts and the transformation she was undergoing, Larissa lay there and took it. She moaned as she felt the ovipositor bulging and undulating, releasing a warm burst every couple of seconds as it began flooding her insides with its slimy secretion. Amongst the slime were clusters of dozens of eggs containing microscopic larvae that would hatch and bond to her Larissa's eggs, these parasites would then fertilize the egg and hybridize it, creating a human insect hybrid based on Larissa's altered DNA. Larissa did not know this yet and was simply overjoyed to feel herself being fertilized. Her lover chirped over and over again, queen, queen, queen. Every time she answered with an elated yes.

The pumping motion of the creature's ovipositor was exquisite and Larissa began tossing and turning as she teetered on the bring of a mind blowing orgasm. Her back itched where her wings were beginning to sprout and she could feel her body armour merging with her skin where she still had it on her arms and legs. The creature leaned down to kiss her, their mandibles and tongues caressing and dancing around one another. The ovipositor began to vibrate harder and harder, each load growing in volume before dumping one final enormous burst of warmth in Larissa. She threw her head back and screeched in delight.

The euphoria the creature had instilled in her with it's aphrodisiac spores and pheromones was abating and Larissa felt like herself again as the creature cuddled up to her. Like herself again and yet, different. Different because she had genuinely enjoyed every moment of what had just happened. She was pleasantly surprised by how content she was with what had happened to her mind and body. The new sensations, thoughts and impulses. As a human, she'd abhorred the idea of having children, but as an insect the prospect of spawning a hive as her lover's queen seemed like so much more fun than spending all her time fighting. He was attentive and caring, even know as they basked in the afterglow of their love-making. No human man had ever made her felt so complete. Larissa lovingly stroked his fur as she dozed off.

* * *

Outpost 38-S Status Report

Specimen status: following previous report, biological contaminant 223 appears to have completed modifications to subject. Hoskins, B no longer retains human feature of any sort at approx 36 hours after exposure.

Deactivation of containment cell in infirmary scheduled at 0800, sixty minutes after fire team leaves on assignment.

Contaminant 223 immediately leaves infirmary at 0800 and appears to roam the outpost at random before being drawn to the quarters of Team Leader Sile, L. Hidden camera observes contaminant 223 appears to become excited by traces of human female. Wings flush with colour, inferred by research team as indication of readiness or willingness to mate?

Contaminant 223 seeks to hide in Sile, L's wardrobe at 1830 as if it knows return is imminent.

Upon Team Leader's return at 1930, contaminant 223 engages Team Leader who appears to be almost immediately under it's influence.

Research team denotes spores secreted from the wings of contaminant 223 interact with Team Leder at this point.

Coitus ensues and intercourse appears to trigger biological change in Team Leader. Team notes what took 36 hours to happen to Hoskins, B happens to Sile, L within one standard hour.

Further research on male and female variables is required.

Research team infers that Hoskins, B took longer as contaminant 223 needed to adapt to human gene sequence which made Sile, L experience faster, more voluntary metamorphosis than 223.

Curious to note that Sile, L was still partially in type 38 crusader armour which has become fused with her form during coitus. Contaminant species may possess ability to bond to inorganic matter as adaptive counter-measure? Further study required.

After brief rest, both specimens break free of outpost 38-S at 2248, exiting via the window in Team Leader's quarters.

Both specimens now appearing flight capable with fully formed wings and instinctive knowledge of how to utilize them.

At 2300, fire team becomes aware of Team Leader's absence and is operational by 2308. Fire team proceeds to leave outpost on search and destroy mission but fails to return.

Presumed all hands lost.

Recommending next mission utilizes a team with 50/50 split of biological genders and releases six samples of contaminant 223 rather than a singular specimen. This should allow for greater insight into conversion rates and establish a baseline for both contaminant to human conversion as well as hybrid to human transmission and if gender has significant bearing on either.

Recommending greater precaution to track and detain next batch, recover assets Hoskins and Sile where possible to allow further study on contaminant 223 after extended periods of exposure and activity.

End log.

* * *

Larissa marveled at the silky tunnels and caverns her drones had spun. In such a short time, they had constructed a marvelous tower from bark and fungi within the jungle. As if vestiges of her human memories inspired them, her larvae had made a great silken throne for her in her chamber. Thankfully they'd left her and her lover there in peace as he ploughed his ovipositor into her once again. He had been fucking her every day they'd been here and at no point had their love-making become a bore. She chirped and cooed as she felt more of his eggs splashing into her womb.

After a week or so, she would lay the matured eggs with an ovipositor of her own. The clutch would swell and grow before hatching days later. Each egg releasing a five foot long fuzzy caterpillar that would build upon the hive with its silk, forage for food and bring it's offerings to the queen. Her eldest children had even spun silky cocoons and begun to metamorphosize into humanoid creatures like her and her partner.

Larger, armoured males and smaller flightless feminine figures taking shape as they shed their larval form. That made her heart swell with pride. Who knew how big her hive would become? Larissa adored this life. No bad attitudes, no smartasses to disrespect her. Her authority was absolute and she was adored. Nowhere else had Larissa ever truly felt that and she loved her mate dearly for bestowing such a wondrous new life upon her.

Larissa loved this planet…

[madhatterbri]

Bigger Than Quidditch | O.W.

Much love to the owner of the GIF. He is so unbelievably attractive. 🤌

"Now captains, shake hands. I expect no rule breaking. Respect each other and the game. I know how you two can be," Madam Hooch announced to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. She looked at the female captain pointedly. Two seventh year students stood across from each other. The determination in their faces said it all. They wanted to beat the other and they would stop at nothing.

The red-head Ravenclaw captain scoffed. The brunette male in front of her smirked and winked at her. Madam Hooch always favored him over his opponent. He just had to play it up a bit. He reached out his hand for her to take.

"Come on, Ryan. Lets put our differences aside and shake hands. This game that we love so much deserves our full respect," he reminded and reached his hand out further. Eve smiled briefly and gripped his hand roughly. She crushed his fingers in her grip. Her nails digging in the side of his palm. Their arms moving roughly in the handshake. Oliver grimaced in pain, but didn't dare say a word.

"You are right. Good game, Wood,"

"I hope you have that same grip on the quaffle while my chasers fly circles around you," Oliver warned. He looked up at his teammates.

"Those little girls won't make a single point off us," she mused. "Besides, I ran the math. It is statistically impossible for you guys to beat us,"

"Enough the both of you. Now join your respective teams and we'll start the match," Madam Pomfrey yelled and threw her hands in the air in annoyance. She was secretly grateful that this was their last year at Hogwarts.

Eve straddled her broom and flew to her teammates. She stared at Oliver from across the field. He flew to stand guard of the rings. His brown hair blew slightly from the wind. The red and yellow colored uniform didn't do much for him, but he was still one of the better looking boys in their year.

"Ten points for Gryffindor!" A voice called out in the stadium.

What?

Eve looked around confused. The lousy Gryffindor chasers must have used her being distracted as an advantage. Ten points wasn't going to make a difference. She knew her seeker would find the snitch before theirs.

"Oi! Ryan! Look alive, ya?" One of her chasers yelled. She simply nodded and flew around to chase the quaffle.

As expected, the game was long and brutal. The weather changed from bright and sunny to heavy rain and thunder. There was barely any visibility on the pitch. The players could barely keep their grip on the quaffle. Bludgers were hard to miss with the darkness.

Eve shoved one of the Gryffindor Chasers and grabbed the quaffle from their hands. Feeling victorious, she decided to fly towards the Gryffinfor goal posts. A huge smile was plastered on her face. Any day she could score against Wood was a good day. Her obsession with being better than the other captain caused her to become unaware of the happenings around her.

"Eve, watch out!" Another one of her teammates yelled. His hands blocked his mouth at the collision that was about to happen before him. A bludger was racing towards his captain. Eve stopped and turned her head. The bludger rushed towards her. She tried to move out of the way, but the bludger smacked the back of her head. A piercing scream filled the stadium.

Eve tried to continue flying. Her world started to get blurry. The quaffle was the first to fall out of her hands. The world around her started to turn black. She tried to fly but felt herself losing consciousness.

"Eve!" She heard a Scottish voice yell before everything turned to black.

One week. That was how long it took for her to wake up. Her eyes remained closed as she listened to her surroundings. It was strangely quiet, yet the sickly smell of potions danced with her nose. She reasoned it was dark based on the sun not shining on her. She felt someone rubbing their thumb on her hand.

"Oliver, what are you doing here?" The voice of Penelope Clearwater asked softly. The contact on her hand suddenly disappeared. Eve's clouded mind tried to fathom the reasoning behind his visit. Maybe he felt responsible since one of his beaters caused this.

"Oh, erm, I," he stammered nervously. "I wanted to make sure she was okay. I can't continue to beat her if she's dead,"

"Madam Pomfrey told you she was going to wake up. She's stubborn, Oliver. She'll wake up when she is good and ready,"

"Yeah, I... I know it's just,"

"Have you told your feelings for her?" She asked.

Feelings?

Eve felt her face start to blush. Her heart pounded wildly. She felt like she was on cloud nine. The going back and forth between each other maybe made sense.

"I dont want to ruin what we have," he confessed. "I think she genuinely hates me,"

Eve started to stir. She had to see it to believe it. Oliver Wood was actually visiting her. Hurried footsteps away from her room caused disappointment. Before her stood her best friend, Penelope Clearwater.

"Who were you talking to?" Eve asked and looked around the room.

"No one. I just got here. I think you are imagining things," Penelope lied. She was a terrible liar. Her face turned a bright red and she appeared nervous. Her eyes looked at everything else besides Eve.

"Did we at least win?" Eve asked.

"The game was called off,"

"Why? You can't cancel Quidditch,"

You fell off your broom and Oliver caught you before you went splat on the floor," Penelope answered. Eve felt that same fluttering in her stomach.

"Oh. I should thank him for that,"

"For Merlin's sake, Eve, you know he loves you," her friend snapped at her. Eve opened her mouth to say something sarcastic but knew better. She remained quiet and let her friend talk. "And I know you love him too. Just talk to him when you can. Glad you feel better,"

In an instant, there was silence once more.

Eve was stuck in her thoughts the rest of the her stay in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey took extra precautions before allowing her to leave. She tried to meet up with Oliver, but she was buried in homework. Eve was finally able to catch up to him in the Astronomy Tower. Professor Sinistra gave them a late night project.

"Fancy meeting you here," Oliver smiled and sat next to her. "I've been wondering when you and I can have one of our lovely chats,"

"I'm glad to see you too," she reciprocated the sentiment. He looked at her confhsed. "I wanted to thank you for catching me before the whole school was covered with my brains,"

Oliver snorted. "Can't rub it in your face how my team beats you every year if you're dead... What are we supposed to be looking at anyways?"

"The planet Venus,"

"She seems pretty. Wonder what she looks like on the surface," Oliver questioned while admiring the planet.

"Inhospitable and toxic,"

"Sounds like someone else I know," he joked. Eve rolled her eyes yet laughed. He could really be funny when he wanted to.

"Oliver, have you ever thought about us? Like together?"

"Like on the same Quidditch team? I don't know if you could get used to winning. You know-"

Eve pressed her lips on to his. He leaned into the kiss. His eyes closed. "I think Venus may just be my new favorite planet,"

[twistedwit-arch]

❝  i didn’t think i’d still be alive.  i’m not really sure what to do now that i am.  ❞ // @piraticalwit 

The sun has begun its slow and steady descent toward the horizon, the endless stretch of sky taking on the eerie hues of twilight that only the isle of Neverland can produce - vivid purples mingled with bilious greens that resemble the sickly mottled colors of a fading bruise, the lingering remnants of an injury long past that still leaves a reminder upon the skin. It’s a fitting metaphor for this place, he thinks with a quirk of his lips, gaze shifting to take in the man pacing the floor before him. The pirate is agitated - nothing new, the fae muses, allowing himself to study the mortal for a moment in his heightened state of being, the way he speaks almost to himself while his brow furrows, the deliberate stomp of booted feet upon the deck, the clenched fist that hangs at his side...not angry so much as troubled.

He is a beautiful thing.

The thought takes the creature by surprise, and for the span of a few heartbeats he is struck dumb, his mouth hanging ajar as he mulls over the implications of this revelation. It is unexpected, this realization that the stern, unforgiving pirate captain with his mercurial moods, the blatant, ever-present humanness of him, has captured the affections of an unseelie...it is, to put a fine point on it, unheard of.

But as always, he is fae: whimsical, impulsive, unburdened by rules and expectations. 

He shifts where he is seated upon the captain’s desk, long legs swinging over the edge, his manner almost childlike despite the ebb and flow of centuries that the immortal has witnessed , and without a second thought given to propriety or decorum he slides off the desk, nimble feet carrying him to stand directly in the mortal’s path. The fae’s gaze is intense, stormy blue-gray darkening as he searches the captain’s expression for some sign that he, too, senses the shift in the atmosphere between them, the undeniable magnetic pull that seems to have caught the immortal in its grasp. 

“You could stay here.” The suggestion is delivered with a shrug of broad shoulders, head cocking to the side as if to study the pirate, lips pursed. “I’ve grown rather accustomed to having you around.”

[onemillionvolts]

— on the second floor —

18+. MDNI. my lil entry for @bluexiao & @anantaru 's sweet & spice collab! this was super fun <33

kaeya alberich + f!reader

warnings: public sex, fingering, voyeurism mention(?), creampie / wc: 2.1k

you can't help but watch in awe as kaeya sheaths his sword back into its holster. his breath is heavy, yet he looks as if he's barely broken a sweat, despite fending off the entire horde of hilichurls on his own.

he looks like he was pulled straight out of a bard's tale, or cinematic painting; the way the setting sun beams down on him is akin to a spotlight, one that's very well deserved. finally, kaeya turns his attention back to you, back to the walk you two had been enjoying before the rude interruption of hilichurls. it's like the attack never happened, with how nonchalant kaeya is about the whole situation.

"you know, y/n, we make a pretty good team." he mentions, hands stuffing in his pockets. you can't tell the tone of his statement—knowing kaeya, it should be sarcastic, especially considering the fact that you didn't do anything in the prior conflict. but it doesn't sound sarcastic; in fact, it sounds very genuine, something that isn't all too common from the cavalry captain. you tilt your head up at him, offering a retort.

"what do you mean? i didn't even do anything, you had them all beat by the time i even got my weapon out..."

he shrugs, offering you a soft chortle and a smile to pair with it. "well... it's the thought that counts!" he asserts with a nod. "anyways, anyways, what's a good victory without a reward? why don't we go celebrate at the angel's share?"

you can't stifle the giggle that comes from you—kaeya's so predictable, and it's endearing to you. you nod with a soft curve of your lips, taking ahold of kaeya's hand as the two of you make your way to the tavern. it's packed, as is normal for the angel's share, patrons with varying levels of sobriety inhabiting the first floor of the establishment.

hand-in-hand with you, kaeya struts up to the bar, using his free hand to fish in his pocket for some spare mora. "we'll have two death after noons, keep the change." he announces, setting the small stack of mora on the flat surface in front of him. as the bartender prepares the beverages, kaeya turns to you. "a little crowded down here, no? why don't we head to the second floor?"

"that sounds good," you respond with a hum, entirely ignorant to kaeya's ulterior motive. the second floor of angel's share is rarely occupied; the place is big enough that the first floor is perfect to accomodate everyone. so with a little privacy, kaeya figures... what reason is there to not reward you for always sticking by him through thick and thin?

your drinks are ready after a few moments of waiting, and kaeya takes one in each hand. he ushers you up to the second floor of the tavern, which, lo and behold, is entirely devoid of patrons. kaeya smirks at this fact, bringing the drinks to a table. one that's riiiight in the corner, perfect to be hidden away, to blend in should anyone decide to come wandering upstairs. kaeya sits down in the booth, patting the seat next to him, giving you the rightaway to sit beside him.

"darling?"

he muses, earning a questioning "hmm," in response from you.

"do you know why i wanted to come up here?" he interrogates, sickly sweet smirk plastered on his pretty lips. you shake your head, looking quizically at him as you take a sip of your drink. kaeya's firm hand moves to your inner thigh, eyes narrowing with impure intent.

he leans in, close, his lips mere inches away from your ear. "so i can fuck you right here in this booth, of course."

your cheeks heat up, and you part your thighs a little further. kaeya's hand travels up your skirt, grazing over your clothed cunt with a cheeky grin. "you deserve it after that encounter earlier." his tone is lower than it was before, sending shivers down your spine and causing your cunt to grow slicker. his middle finger lazily plays with your clit through your panties, a throaty chuckle emerging from him as you lean against his chest even more, his head craning to nuzzle against yours.

kaeya's fingers peel your panties to the side, a soft 'fuck' escaping him as his digits make contact with your bare, messy cunt. he revels in how wet you already are for him, how softly you whimper when he teases a finger against your slit. you let out a gasp as he finally pushes a digit in, following up with a second one soon after.

his fingers pump in and out of you, soft moans of pleasure spilling from your lips—that is, until kaeya's own lips connect with yours, practically shoving his tongue into your mouth. it's sloppy, as is the way he fingers you, pushing his digits into your needy cunt, curling them, just so he can make you squirm. your walls are soaked around his fingers, sensitive and slick as he fingers you, continuing to share a heated embrace as well.

your eyes squeeze shut as kaeya's fingers tease your insides, calculated as they go back and forth, his tongue swirling around yours over and over. you manage a "please," against his lips, your hand grazing over the significant bulge in his pants, the outline of his already stiff cock not leaving much to the imagination.

"please what?" kaeya teases, smirking against your lips as he curls his fingers again, drawing a soft shudder from you. he pulls his lips from yours, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. "need... need you," is all that you can whine out, cut off by a shaky moan as kaeya's thumb rubs against your clit.

you let out a small gasp when he pulls his calloused fingers from your depths, feeling rather empty as he tugs at the fabric of your panties with those same digits. you know exactly what he's instructing—in your desperate state, you don't dare to disobey for even one second. as you slip your panties down your quaking thighs, kaeya is quick to undress himself just enough; unbuckling his belt at a speed you didn't even know he was capable of, tugging his pants and underwear down to his lower thighs, just enough to free his aching cock, stood tall and twitching with need.

of course, you're well aware of what to do—you shift yourself onto his lap, needily grinding against his stiff cock, leaking with precum. kaeya takes you by your hips, so very gentle as he lowers you onto his cock, inch by inch. "go on, you can take it.. be a good girl for me, okay?" he coos, sweet as ever in your ear. "see," he hums after finally bottoming out inside of your tight cunt, "we make a perfect team, right?"

the smirk on his face is smug, but you barely even notice it. your eyes are glossed over as you adjust to his throbbing length, hips needily squirming against his grasp. once you're settled on his cock, kaeya begins to guide your hips up and down, taking complete control—not that you mind. your hands move to the edge of the table behind you, careful as to not knock down the untouched drinks that rest on the flat surface. kaeya has complete control of you, his hands' grip is tight on your hips as he brings you down on his cock, expression lit up with lust as he handles you with such expertise.

his hips begin to move up against you every time he lowers yours, fucking up into you, which only heightens the sensation. your moans are soft, soft enough to be drowned out by the clamoring and loud chatter of tavern customers below you. the both of you are thankful for it—the sheer amount of noise blankets any sounds that may indict you two, whether it be your moans, the occasional grunt that slips kaeya's lips, or the delicious squelch of his cock bullying your slick walls.

a whimper of kaeya's name flows from your mouth, one which prompts the knight to lean in, devilish look still adorning his face. "shh shh, wouldn't want to get caught, would you? hmm.. maybe you would?" he teases, cock still gliding against your gummy walls with each upward thrust. you bite down on your lip, trying to prevent any more potentially noticeable sounds from coming out. in spite of your best efforts, you can't stop the occasional moan that escapes you when kaeya's hips jerk upward just right—you thank the archons for the loud clamoring coming from downstairs, giving the two of you as much cover as you need.

still, you're cautious with your sounds as you grind against kaeya's thrusts, eyes struggling to stay opened and focused on him, the satisfaction he brings you with each thrust becoming too much to bear.

it isn't long before his hands cradle your ass, and he flips the two of you around; you're now lying on the booth with kaeya atop you, and he's in full control. the strokes of his hips are deep, they're something you'd expect in the comfort of your own bed with him, not in a booth in the angel's share. it feels too good for you to care, though, his cock seemingly pushing deeper into you with each flawless thrust. his breaths grow heavier with each slam of his hips, though the burning lust in his eyes never falters. your legs wrap tight around kaeya's hips, pulling him even deeper into you—he finds this quite amusing, just how needy you are for him, despite your surroundings.

"someone could catch us at any moment," he chimes into your ear, not daring to stop the lewd back-and-forth of his hips, "and yet here you are, so desperate for more..." kaeya continues as if he's not guilty of the same offense that he teases you for; there's nothing he'd rather be doing right now than burying himself balls deep into your weeping cunt, even in public. it shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but he can't help how he thinks about it—the thought of someone walking in on him fucking you in such a way, it sends him into a spiral.

"taking it like such a good girl," kaeya praises, voice low and slightly strained as he tries to deny himself of what he knows is inevitable—he can feel himself getting close, but he so badly wants to prolong the moment. your legs are shaky, barely maintaining the tight wrap around his thighs... not that it matters anyways, though, kaeya's thrusts would be divine either way.

as you get closer to your own release, you find it more and more difficult to suppress your sinful noises, a few drawn-out moans accidentally breaching your lips. "shh shh, babygirl," kaeya grumbles into your ear, his own voice unsteady as he continues sinking his cock deep into you, "wouldn't want to get caught now, would you? then all of mondstadt would surely know our dirty little secret..."

the risk only turns you on further, your walls slick around kaeya's cock as he thrusts in and out, stretching you perfectly with every rut of his hips. his lips meet yours, muffling your soft moans and preventing any sounds from leaving him. with every stroke, both of you inch ever closer to your much-needed releases, bodies growing warmer as they press against each other.

you simply can't take it any longer, cumming around kaeya's cock with no warning, your walls wrapping around his girth as you grind against him, his thrusts only propelling your orgasm to new heights.

"'nna cum," the groan against your lips is his only warning before he does, cumming deep inside of you with a long sigh, continuing to fuck you as he rides out his orgasm, not halting until the both of you are equally satisfied. only then does kaeya pull out, cheeks just as warm as yours as he tucks his softening cock back into his pants, stuffing a couple of fingers into you without notice, pushing his cum back inside you.

the cavalry captain's breath is heavy as he leans in, lips softly grazing your own. "that was fun, don't you agree?" he coos, face mere inches from yours as he looks you deep in your eyes. you can only give him a nod, too fucked out to manage a verbal response. he chortles in retort, "that's what i thought, sweetheart."

[feverishfatale]

The Antioxidant Issue (Iz/zy)

Summary: Iz/zy is even more fiesty when he is ill ... yet somehow he manages to have both captains of The Revenge fussing over him.

—

"Izzy, mate, you can't keep on like this." 

"Fuck off, Edward." 

The rasp of Izzy's voice was nearly nonexistent, the usual hoarse note sounding more like a blade dragged over a particularly dull whetstone. The words that weren't entirely drowned in congestion, at least. 

"Iz, man, c'mon. This isn't even dignified at this point." 

"I don't recall asking your opinion on my fuckin' manners." 

"Because I'm not!" 

Edward let out a heavy sigh as Izzy only sniffled again. 

His first mate looked … rough. Even disregarding the awful tone that his swollen, clearly sore throat had gifted him with, Izzy was deathly pale. The rings under his lower lashes almost looked like bruises with the wan tone to his sun beaten skin and the chapped tip of his nose nearly glowed under the cabin's soft lighting. He looked like misery incarnate. Like a man with a wretched cold that could have very well been the flu if Izzy would admit to the full extent of his symptoms rather than hiding like a sickly lone wolf. 

One who was failing to sniffle back the mess that the outburst had caused to drip from his nostrils and into the folds of his cravat.

"At least wipe your nose, Iz."

"I'm fuckin' fine." 

"You're dripping, mate." 

"Too messy for you? Too grotesque for your little fuckin' fantasy life?" 

"Izzy." 

"What, Edward?" Izzy snarled. "Is this shit too fuckin' real for you? Dripping all over your goddamn fancy fabric." 

"Iz, man. If I have to ask again, then you aren't gonna like the consequences." 

Izzy only stiffened in place, even as droplets of mess streaked down his beard and into the black fabric around his throat. 

Edward leveled a hard glare at him. 

Only for Izzy to squint back, eyes watery and cheekbones puffy. 

"Are we gonna do this the hard way or the easy way, huh?" 

The thinly veiled threat was greeted with stony silence. 

Edward let out another sigh and stomped a boot forward on the cushy carpet– 

"Ah, Edward, I have been looking all over for you!" Stede chirped, the door swinging open to the bright light on deck. "You're quite the– Oh, Izzy. I wasn't expecting you to be here as well. 

"Fuckin' bugger it all." Izzy growled. 

He started toward the newly opened door with another snarl. 

"Iz, hey, man. We aren't–" 

"Ah, well, hello there, Mr. Hands." Stede stuttered, still frozen in the doorway and blocking Izzy's rampage entirely. "Are you feeling alright? You're looking rather sickly this afternoon." 

Izzy let out a wordless growl. 

Edward glanced between them. An idea slowly formed. 

"Afternoon, Stede!" 

"Oh, hello, Ed." 

"What is it that you need me for, mate? Since you went through all the trouble trackin' me down?" 

Izzy let out another raspy howl. 

Stede spared him an awkward glance, yet still didn't move. 

"Right, yes! I've been told we have a rather dire issue! We are out of blueberries." 

"That's your emergency?" Izzy snapped. "A few fuckin' berries." 

"You simply would not understand." 

"You're goddamn right. I don't." 

"We're outta berries?" Edward cut in. 

"Not all berries. Only blue berries." 

"But aren't half the lot of 'em some shade of blue?" 

"Well, I suppose there are many that fall into the violet color spectrum, yes. But blueberries are their own separate varieties." 

"Fascinating. And we gotta have them?" 

"Why, yes!" Stede burst out, his broad shoulders squaring in the doorway and his lips pursing. "They are a favorite of the crew. Morale simply will not be the same without them." 

Izzy let out a screech that could rival any siren, forcibly attempting to shove Stede out of his path all while muttering about the communal insanity aboard The Revenge. 

Stede simply watched him with distaste. Even as he still stood his ground in an odd battle of wills. 

"Hm, suppose we'll have to dock and find 'em then." Edward mused. "Can't be too hard to find, can they?" 

"Not at all, they are very readily available in cooler climates like this." 

Edward nodded languidly, letting the backdrop of Izzy's swearing linger in the air for a long moment until Stede looked about fit to burst with the continued shoving and cursing. 

"Speaking of cold, mate." He finally said casually. "Iz has got a bit of one." 

"No, I fuckin' don't." 

"Ah, yes, that would explain a few things." Stede nodded in a way that still somehow conveyed distaste. "He seems rather out of sorts." 

"I am–" 

"Think it could be even worse than a cold if the bugger would sit down and let me check his temperature." Edward interrupted, eyeing the mess that was still clinging to Izzy's facial hair. "Maybe even the flu." 

Stede glanced down for a moment, concern mixed with distaste flashing across his face. 

"He does look ghastly." He agreed. 

Edward nodded again. 

"M getting awfully concerned." 

"For good reason … I suppose." 

Izzy's head whipped from side to side like he couldn't figure out who to train his glare on. 

"Poor man has been all sniffles and he's lookin' a bit dizzy." 

"Is he feverish?" 

"Not sure, mate. I tried to feel for one, but he won't let me near enough." 

"I am standing right fuckin' here!" Izzy bellowed, letting out a rough string of coughs in the wake of it. "I can hear you fuckers!" 

Edward chuckled. 

Stede peered down at their first mate. 

"Are you sure you feel alright to be up and about, Izzy?" He asked. "You look terribly flushed." 

"It's … it's rage! Because of you two buggers!" 

"Looks more like a fever flush from over here, mate." Edward added. "Bad one, too." 

Stede hummed a bit and nodded. 

Then, his hand shot out to land on Izzy's forehead. 

"Oh, yes, you are quite warm." 

"You're going to fuckin' die for this!" 

"You feel so bad you could die, Iz?" Edward took a step towards his fuming first mate and his increasingly concerned co-captain. "Maybe you ought to have a bit of a lie-down after all." 

"That is not–" 

"At least 'til you don't look like a tomato with a sunburn." 

"You really shouldn't be up in this state, Izzy." Stede glanced back before nodding resolutely. "It would be much more ideal if you were to rest for a bit." 

Edward couldn't stop the grin from overtaking his face. 

Even as Izzy turned an odd, sickly scarlet that looked about fifty percent illness and fifty percent pure rage. 

He twisted to shove at Stede again in the doorway. Only to be grabbed by the blond and steered towards the couch with a firm, uncompromising touch. 

"You just sit down, mate!" Edward called to Izzy as he was forcibly manhandled onto the sofa. "Take a load off." 

Stede finally managed to wrestle Izzy onto the cushions with a devious grin. 

"There we are!" He announced. "Nice and snug."

"I fuckin' swear, Bonnet …" 

Edward didn't even have to hear the rest of the threat to know that it was a promise of bodily harm and a protest that Izzy would have never been overtaken had he been healthy. 

"Yes, yes, we all know. You're very tough." Stede placated. "All bravado and such."

He nearly smothered Izzy with a knitted throw blanket as he tucked it in a tad too aggressively. 

Edward watched gleefully as Stede took his– albeit oddly fluffy– revenge. 

"Great job, mate. You really got him all swaddled in there." 

"He needs to be warm to recover properly." Stede nodded, a glint in his eyes as he surveyed his work. 

For his part, Izzy only glowered back. His eyelids hung heavily over his bloodshot eyes and he had to sniffle near constantly in order to remain a scrap of dignity. Not that he was doing more than grasping at straws. 

Edward nodded again. 

"Lookin' warm, Iz." 

"Fuck you, Edward." 

Edward let himself chuckle at the sudden lack of rancor in his first mate's voice. 

He turned to Stede who was still hovering in a way that was somehow vaguely malicious over the edge of the sofa. 

"How about we let Iz rest and go find us some berries?" 

"Sounds delightful." Stede grinned brightly. "But first!" 

He removed the handkerchief with a flourish from his pocket, swiping it under Izzy's chapped nostrils and then dropping the damp cloth into his lap in one smooth motion. 

"There! That has been bugging me since I stumbled across your little gathering here."

Edward watched in awe as Stede flounced off with an even wider grin. 

As Stede disappeared through the still open door, he turned to where Izzy was flushed to the tips of his ears and sputtering out a blue streak. 

"Fuckin' fucker. Absolute wanking bugger." 

"Don't be a poor sport, Iz." 

"But he–" 

"Helped you out, mate." Edward cut off the hoarse tirade. "Did what needed to be done, really." 

Izzy only let out a ragged cough. 

Slowly, Edward leaned in to adjust the blanket to a less choking position and smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen out of its slicked back style. 

"Get some rest, Izzy. Feel better and all that." 

As his first mate's eyes finally closed, Stede popped back around the doorway with a tan jacket slung over his shoulders and the same shovel he had used to dig for buried treasure.

"Come on, now, Ed! These berries won't pick themselves!" 

"Coming, mate!" 

Edward gently smoothed back Izzy's hair one last time and slowly rose to his feet. 

Maybe Iz would enjoy some blueberries to help fight off the illness. Antioxidants and all that. 

[fromthedeskof-darkiplier]

Welcome.

[Some rules before you interact (this includes trigger warnings the Mun needs, so please give it a read (ESPECIALLY the link at the bottom))]

[About this iteration of Darkiplier]

Enjoy your stay.

***(Tag list is below the cut. Will be adding more as I interact with or talk about more characters.)***

Character Tags

Nice to Meet Me: Tag for other Darkipliers.

Talking to a Mirror: Tag for Y/N, the District Attorney.

Favorite Color: Tag for @respect-the-stache , the Wilford Warfstache whom Dark is in a relationship with.

Favorite Color in a Different Shade: Tag for other Wilford Warfstaches.

Boggy Destroyer of Worlds: Tag for Dark and Wil’s cat, Boggy.

Loki God of Mischief: Tag for Dark and Wil’s other cat, Loki.

Books Bound by Gauze / Books Bound with Gauze (I keep forgetting which one to use, I'm sorry gkdbdksdbsmsndj): Tags for @blind-radio-waves, a Host that Dark has a pseudo-parental relation to.

Die by the Inkwell: Tag for other Hosts.

Bring out the Grindr: Tag for Bim Trimmer. 

Queries May Vary: Tag for GoogleIRL

Literal Websurfing: Tag for BingIRL.

His Squirrelly Highness: Tag for King of the Squirrels.

Sweetheart in Highschool: Tag for Yandereplier.

A Jim by Any Other Name: Tag for the Jims.

Glitched Green and Grungy: Tag for AntiSepticEye.

Glitched Muse: Tag for @blind-radio-waves ‘s significant other, another iteration of AntiSepticEye.

The Weaving Machine: Tag for BlankGameplays.

Explorer of the Internet: Tag for Illinois.

Why the Jailbird Sings: Tag for Yancy.

Shrinking Hibiscus: Tag for Eric Derekson.

Return to Warehouse Stock: Tag for Derek Derekson.

Sickly Sweet and Sticky: Tag for Goopiplier.

Corporate Tyrant in Training: Tag for Harold B. Darrensworth.

Time and Time Again: Tag for Unus Annus.

The Rising Son: Tag for Lunky.

Eye of the Night Sky: Tag for the God of Night(from the Kollok series).

Target of Rage: Tag for the Actor.

Beached and Water-Logged: Tag for Captain Magnum.

Detested Notary: Tag for Codi, Dark's "notary". AKA, the Mun of this blog. Sometimes I like to have a little fun harassing them in-character, idk what to tell you.

Non-Character Tags

Fits like a clean-pressed blazer: Tag for posts that Dark resonates with to an aesthetic extent.

Cats: Tag for cats.

Insomniac Musings: Sometimes Dark just can't help their urge to wax poetic.

Color in the White Noise: Tag for music Dark felt like sharing to their blog.

[okay-j-hannah]

Devout Hands & Rubied Apples

The Lord of the Rings : Fic

Faramir x Reader

Word Count: 3241

Warnings: Man I’ve always loved Faramir but holy frick I think he’d be such a loyal and caring husband 😭 I love wingman Boromir too 

Request: “I’d love to request a Fic with Faramir where he and the reader (who was also apart of the fellowship) spend Aragorn’s coronation and the party that takes place after together. He’d slowly be building up the courage to confess how he feels while Boromir tries to be a good wingman. At the same time, Merry and Pippin are scheming ways to get them together. Just lots of fluff involving dancing, drinking, and cute interactions :)” @whitewolvesandwitches​

A/N:​ In light of the Ring being destroyed, the fellowship find themselves in need of a new task. One appointed by Boromir to aide his brother in winning over the heart of their healer and friend

(Y/N) took it upon herself to assist in the infirmary as much as she could. After leaving the battlements relatively unscathed, ensuring the remnants of her fellowship were all right, she turned her attentions towards the wounded.

Upon entering the rows of stretchers enveloping the interior of Minas Tirith, she was quick to notice her companion Boromir. Strong and steady, the warrior was knelt over a makeshift cot wielding a man of similar fair hair.

“Boromir,” she muttered, resting a hand along his shoulders, “He will recover.”

The older man reached to touch her hand behind him, “I know. How could he not with you watching over him? You saved my life against the Uruk-hai, and you will save his life against my father’s poor judgement.”

(Y/N) frowned at the memory of being told the Steward had made Faramir’s condition worse even after sending him to his death at Osgiliath.

“I am flattered, but I’m sure he draws strength from your constant visits.”

“I would beg to differ,” the man she saw as a brother stated. He drew another stool closer as she took a seat to stay. “He is just as comforted by you as he is by me.”

(Y/N) moved a hand to feel the sickly brothers forehead. When she moved it towards his cheek, there was the smallest of movements as he nuzzled her palm in his sleep.

Boromir rested his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth with both his hands. His knowing eyes flickered to (Y/N)’s face, wondering if she’d have a reaction.

“What are you looking at with such a smile?”

“Oh, simply pondering your verdict.”

(Y/N) grinned back, “His fevers broken. It won’t be long before he’ll be walking about.” She let her hand linger perhaps too long on the scruff of Faramir’s cheek, for Boromir was clearing his throat and standing to leave.

“I must get back to the front. Aragorn is holding a council for his coming coronation.”

“Then get at it, Steward.”

Boromir flashed a grin, taking a light bow, “As you wish, Healer (Y/N). Keep my brother alive for me, will you?” He turned on his heel, trying to hide that smile that almost gave him away.

And watch over Faramir, (Y/N) did. Though attending to other duties with the quickly recovering survivors, she spent every sparing moment at his bedside. With him out of immediate danger, Faramir was moved to his own chambers, a soft pillow beneath his head and plenty of books for (Y/N) to choose from.

She became accustomed to a schedule of attending the infirmary then grabbing a tray of food and making way for Faramir’s room. She’d share a meal with him, trying to keep him awake longer and longer each day before he fell into another unconscious stupor.

When he did, she simply picked up the nearest book and read passages from it, sometimes saying them aloud to him. She found peace in those moments alone by his bedside. Chaos was attempting to be reined in by Aragorn, Boromir, and Eomer – the new lords of Middle Earth. And the sanctuary of Faramir’s chambers was always sought after a long day.

Though she was never far from boisterous visitors.

“Evening, (Y/N),” came the cheery voices of Merry and Pippin. “How are you?”

“Perfectly content,” she mused, placing a book marker on her current page, “What can I do for you?”

Merry put his hands behind his back, taking slow steps to Faramir’s bedside, “We were simply wondering when the last time you saw the light of day was.”

She laughed, curiosity peaked, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“By our reckoning,” Pippin continued, at the foot of the bed, “You’ve done nothing but move between the infirmary, kitchens, and this room every day. You’ve done hardly anything else since the war.”

“We,” Merry gestured between himself and Pippin, “Are here to rescue you.”

(Y/N) sighed a smile, “I told you I am perfectly content sitting here. But thank you for showing such concern.” She had an impish tone to her words, “How are you healing, Merry?”

“Don’t you change the subject,” the hobbit retorted, “There is to be a party after Aragorn’s coronation, and you’ll have no one to see if you don’t leave this room to meet them.”

Pippin flickered his gaze between the bed and (Y/N)’s puzzled expression, but he added quickly, “There are many soldiers dying to meet the one that healed them after the field.”

She couldn’t see how Merry stamped on Pippin’s large foot. They weren’t supposed to encourage meeting other men of the field.

“You know I’ve got plenty of friends that’ll be there.” She thought of the fellowship and how joyous their reunion had been when the Ring was destroyed. “And I don’t much fancy being sought after by a handful of injured soldiers.”

“And why not?” came Faramir’s quiet voice from the bed covers, “Surely these soldiers have won the honor to seek your hand.”

“Oh, Faramir!” she said, standing to reach his forehead, “How are you feeling? You slept far longer this time.”

The young captain, though healed of his injuries, was still pale and weak from weeks stuck in a bed. “I’m all right. Your book reading keeps me well asleep.” He lingered his weary blue eyes on her expression, not wishing to do anything that would make her retract her hand from his face.

She was oblivious to how he was looking at her.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer his question?”

Merry stamped on his companions foot again.

“Oh, well…” (Y/N) seemed a bit flustered by the question, “I’ve never been one for courting, especially by strangers.” She moved her hands back into her lap and Faramir felt his brows slant in longing.

Merry and Pippin flipped their gazes between the two, peculiar smiles on their faces. Similar to the one that Boromir usually bore when he visited.

“What are you up to?” She questioned, “There is more than simply getting me out of this room.”

“You got us,” Merry resigned in mock defeat, “We need to get you out for a particular reason.”

“We need to speak to Faramir,” Pippin said in a rush, unable to conceal his excitement. A swift smack from his friend made him yell out, “Ow! What was that for?”

Merry sighed, “You have no tact, Pippin. Must be a Tookish trait.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at her friends banter. The lovely sound made Faramir return his tired gaze to her.

“You could have just said so,” she said. “I have made promises to set up the festivities with Eowyn. Perhaps I’ll seek her out and start early.”

And once she had left, the hobbits were quick to let out the breaths they had been holding. Faramir, though still exhausted from his lack of energy, laughed at them. “I have a feeling Boromir has something to do with this.”

And speak of the man, Boromir inched his way into the room, looking around him as if to see if someone had spotted him yet. “Are we alone?”

“Completely,” Merry muttered, “(Y/N)’s off to find Eowyn.”

“Don’t worry, Faramir,” Pippin consoled his friend, “We’ve been putting in the good word for you the entire time you were ill.”

The poor man appeared entirely bewildered, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, “Good word?”

“Listen to me, brother,” Boromir said, a kind of light in his eyes. “The opportunity is almost ripe for the taking. The coronation is in just a few days, and that will be when you strike.”

“Strike?”

“We’ll all be there if you need us,” Merry continued, “We’ve just got to get you up and about. You still look like death.” Him and Boromir offered to help Faramir into a sitting position.

Such small a movement and it had Faramir straining, “I still don’t understand.”

“(Y/N)!” Boromir stated with such excitement, “Now is the time to confess your feelings for her.”

That woke him up real quick. “(Y/N)? Have you three been scheming behind my back?”

“Only because you were on your deathbed,” Pippin shrugged.

Faramir ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath, “I couldn’t possibly… how would I… like (Y/N) would actually…”

“Relax, Faramir,” Boromir smirked, “I don’t believe you have anything to worry about.”

“You should have seen her,” Merry sucked in his lips in exuberance. “She paid such special attention to you out of all the survivors.”

“Which brings us to why you have to get up, Faramir,” Pippin stated, “There’s a lineup of soldiers talking of charming (Y/N) at the coronation. You have to be better by then to take them on!”

Boromir raised a hand, seeing the slight panic entering his brothers face, “There’s no need to pick a fight with every man that comes her way. Because I am sure (Y/N) will pick you regardless.”

“You’re sure?” Faramir asked, almost breathless in his growing anxiety. “How could you possibly be sure?”

“You were not awake,” Boromir had a wicked grin, “She clearly has feelings for you. She is simply not as vocal about them.”

Merry urged him on, “I don’t see (Y/N) staying in any of her other injured soldiers rooms.”

~~

The coronation was a celebration beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings. Aragorn was crowned King Elessar amongst a flurry of pale petals and ecstatic subjects. Friends and acquaintances gathered from every stretch of the map, offering bows of good faith and trust.

(Y/N) stood diligently beside those members of the fellowship she cherished most. Boromir clapped boisterously, whistling loudly above the cheers. It made (Y/N) smile.

Amongst the chaos, Boromir leaned around to get a better look, grasping someone near him and trading places. This new person bumped right into (Y/N), stumbling and finding that it was Faramir his brother had traded places with.

He gave her a sweet, apologetic smile, as if to say, “My brother is a menace.”

She blushed back, taking a step away from brushing shoulders with him only to discover Legolas standing steadfastly beside her. She caught a questioning, slightly smug, look on his face before retreating back to being shoulder to shoulder with Faramir.

She couldn’t possibly have noticed the minute glance the elf gave to Boromir over their heads.

And the newly made King Elessar came walking among his subjects, the fair lady Arwen on his arm. He peered at her delicate, radiant face with such devotion that it made (Y/N) blush. She could feel heat radiating off Faramir���s body against her shoulder.

She sneaked a glance and caught him staring at her, even as the King and his Queen trailed past. Faramir couldn’t seem to look away and in an attempt to appear normal, started clapping along with the crowd. (Y/N) couldn’t put her finger on it, but the expression on his face reminded her of the look on Aragorn’s only moments before.

When he looked upon his queen.

The festivities that followed were as celebratory and raucous as you’d believe, especially with friends such as Boromir and Gimli around.

(Y/N) had quietly followed Faramir and Legolas into the throne room, which had been decked especially for the occasion. A large feast surrounded them, fiddlers and minstrels in the corner, and grand chandeliers of candles above.

She found that within an instant Legolas had mumbled an excuse to leave, putting her and Faramir alone and at the edge of the party. She kept her hands folded and in front of her, a shawl gracing her back and elbows. A circlet of golden leaves and rubied apples surrounded her head, an extravagance that Eowyn insisted upon.

“Healers,” she had said. “You never do anything for yourselves.” And she proceeded to dress her friend in fine white gold and cornsilk trimmings.

It was Faramir that attempted speech first, “The crown you wear, I recognize it.” He had to lean forward slightly to be heard over the feast. “It is quite beautiful.”

(Y/N) hoped the dimness of the candles hid the crimson on her cheeks, “Thank you. Eowyn took it upon herself to dress me. She says infirmary aprons are not acceptable.”

Faramir laughed, “It suits your complexion.”

She swallowed hard; there was no way her cheeks were as red as those rubied apples. In a moment of silence she straightened the circlet nervously. Faramir appeared to notice as he opened his mouth to speak.

But (Y/N) got there first, “Eowyn told me of the summer wine.” She gestured to a table across the hall, “I simply must try some.” And she vanished in a flurry.

It was incredible how quickly his companions surrounded his shoulders.

“That could have gone better,” Boromir stated grimly, clapping his brothers arm. “I approve of the compliment though.”

“How could you possibly hear us over this crowd?”

Merry pulled himself onto a table of desserts, Pippin not far behind with a fruit pie in hand. “You’ve got her all in a tither already.”

“I’m scaring her,” Faramir frowned, trying to glimpse her golden crowned head amongst the wine glasses.

“You’re flustering her, brother, there’s a difference.” Boromir stroked his scruff, observing the surroundings. “We’re going to have to evade her defenses.”

Pippin popped a blueberry, “Back to the ways of the Green Dragon.” The hobbits shared a gleeful glance, skittering off towards the minstrels.

“What are you planning?” Faramir fretted, not wishing to frighten (Y/N) further.

Boromir waved an impatient hand, apparently deep in strategic thought, “It was not my idea. Though a clever one.”

“Must you be so vague.”

The line of fiddlers shifted in their seats, a new merriment in how they held their bows. Their hobbit friends trailed from them, grasping mugs of ale and finding the tallest table they could stand upon.

A quick, rousing tune filled the air and Faramir recognized it immediately as a sort of line dance. One that included trading partners and flying feet.

“Dancing is not…”

“It is exactly how we’ll sneak you into (Y/N)’s arms.” Boromir grasped his brothers shoulders and shoved him towards the forming circle of people. Merry and Pippin were on their stage, beginning a drinking song of the Shire.

He could already see a pale faced Eowyn greeting (Y/N) and gesturing towards the center of the room.

“Excellent,” he muttered, much to Faramir’s anxiety. “Hold her swift and don’t let go.”

A billow of fabric and laughs consumed Faramir, quickly caught by a fellow Gondorian. He looked at her petite frame surprisingly but recognized her friendly face. They danced a few paces, him memorizing the moves before passing her along – this new partner an acquaintance from Rohan.

Clapping and cheering surrounded them, the hobbits hyping the crowd with bellowing lyrics and chugs of ale. Faramir felt himself loosen as he grinned and tapped toes with different partners. He recognized many friends and shared a few laughs, though an old arrow wound flared in his leg.

He spun and found himself in front of (Y/N) – she was flushed from the dancing, but a delighted twinkle was in her eyes. He continued to smile brighter, taking her hand and twirling her as the dance instructed.

A laugh came from her strawberry rouged lips and he relished the noise, less afraid to grasp her waist as they danced about the hall. When the time came for him to pass her to the next soldier, he found himself simply trading places with him.

(Y/N) peered at him with a comical gaze, “That is cheating.”

Faramir shrugged, taking the liberty to twirl her again, “I simply could not let you go.”

This time she did not mind the butterflies in her stomach, choosing to grin back at him instead of running away. They danced like that, Faramir continuing to jump places with the soldiers so she only partnered with him, until the music died away with a flourish.

Everyone clapped, (Y/N) and Faramir included, neither seeming able to remove their eyes from the other.

“Your shawl,” he pointed out. It had fallen on one side and dangled from one arm onto the floor. (Y/N) twirled to grab the end, but Faramir lightly grabbed her shoulders, stopping her, “Allow me.”

He stood behind her, draping the fallen end around her elbow, smoothly linking their arms together as he did so.

She gave him a suspicious brow, though smiled.

“Care for a drink?” And he led her towards the refreshments arm in arm.

Behind them was a rally of stunned cheers from a certain fellowship as they watched the motion.

“Was the summer wine to your liking?” Faramir continued, not wanting the momentum of his confidence to falter.

(Y/N) was still marveling at the smoothness of Faramir’s actions, allowing him the grace of keeping her arm delicately through his. “It was far too sweet. A pity.”

He charmed her, “Perhaps the elven made wine, then? I can attest to its richness – I’m sure you’ll prefer it.”

She nodded, finding herself intrigued by the bubbling drink, golden in the candlelight. It was crisp and tangy on the tongue, a look of delight on her face as she smacked her lips. Faramir watched her, releasing her arm to find a glass for himself.

“It is delicious.”

He grinned, “I’m glad.” And his gaze lingered as she enjoyed her drink. It lingered so much that (Y/N) chose to stare at the bubbles in her hand then at that look. She was correct in believing it reminded her of the King and Queen.

It was a look of devotion.

“Earlier you told me you recognized my crown,” she spoke towards her toes, “What do you recognize it from?”

He settled his wine glass on a nearby table, “It’s Gondorian made – it comes from our family stores.”

(Y/N) grimaced, “Oh, I told Eowyn not to go snooping. I didn’t realize she took it.”

“It is no trouble,” Faramir stated lightly, “It had belonged to my mother.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, “I didn’t realize…” she immediately went to take it off, holding the circlet with a newfound gentleness. “Forgive me.”

“There is no need to return it now.”

She skewed her brow in apology, “This is far too precious an object, I should not be wearing it.” She offered it to Faramir, “Your mother was an honorable woman.”

Faramir held the golden crown with sincerity, gazing at the worn leaves welded upon it. He smiled sweetly, turning to (Y/N) and placing the circlet once more on her head. “My mother would be glad it was worn by someone as strong as her.”

He brushed her hair away, keeping his hands on either side of her face. “There. Beautiful.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth but found herself with no words to say. This time she returned his devoted stare.

“I have found myself growing very fond of you, (Y/N),” he whispered, “It would be shameful to leave this night with your face so apologetic.”

In an instant she was clear of the emotion – it was replaced with mingling shock and another delightful light in her eyes.

“The shame would only be my own; for my own misguided affections – I thought your fondness was only in gratitude for my healing.” That’s when he began to smile, “Then perhaps for the tolerance of your brother.”

He laughed, adoration plain in his features, “Perhaps I do feel those things. But first and foremost has always been for your heart.”

“My heart has always been open to you, Faramir.”

~~~

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[bokettochild]

i've kinda always thought that legend would a beekeeper. he just looks like he'd bee one, if that makes sense. don't know, can't explain it

Honey, you can't expect that this wouldn't join Ketto's Cottagecore Collection :)

There are many things that Ravio likes about Hyrule.

Mr. Hero’s bees are not one of them.

Oh, he loves the life that the bees spread, the flowers they tend, he loves dolloping gobs of honey over his bread while Mr. Hero watches with something that is shock, concern and awe all at once. He enjoys the gentle humming that always drifts in through the windows and sets the mood for a busy day, and he likes watching Mr. Hero putter about the hives with that soft little expression on his face, a tune on his lips that the bees seem to echo in their hums.

(He also likes the silly little dances Mr. Hero will break into while he works when he thinks no one is watching).

But what he doesn’t like are the bees themselves.

Mr. Hero, unfortunately, loves them.

“Does it have to be here?” Rupee green eyes peek out from out from under his hood as he stares across the table. It’s one of those rare moments between darting across Hyrule and Lorule where Mr. Hero will stop and stay at the house for a day or two. Not that his housemate really has a choice, Mr. Hero’s leg is busted horridly, and kingdom to save or no, he can hardly limp around the house, much less tromp all over the kingdom.

“She’s fine.” Mr. Hero’s voice is softer than normal, smooth as honey as a soft expression plays over his usually scowling face, watching the bee that crawls over his hand with a fond expression as the tiny thing attends to a droplet of honey from their mid-day meal. Three or four others buzz around the hero’s head, his ears twitching ever so slightly as he tracks their motions. But still, Mr. Hero is as calm as could be as he munches some bread, violet fixed on yellow and black stripes.

Ravio himself is half a buzz away from jumping up from the table and hiding in the bed-room. “They’re bees!”

“Hush!” Mr. Hero’s face twists into a scowl, scolding but harsh. “Don’t be so loud, you’ll scare them.”

“I’ll scare them?” Seriously? Does Mr. Hero have no care for his feelings? “Mr. Hero, I don’t mind if dear come to trim your front yard. I don’t mind if birds fly in through your windows to wake you up. I don’t mind if rabbits help you work in the garden or kangaroos appear in the living room, or even if there’s a bear restocking the woodpile. But bees?” He has to fight not to raise his voice as Mr. Hero stares at him. “Why?”

“They’re harmless. And they’re just helping out.”

“They sting!” Ravio whimpers, drawing his arms close to his chest as a particularly inquisitive insect buzzes over to investigate the green eye patches of his bunny robe.

“Only monsters.” Mr. Hero’s smile is sickly sweet and utterly terrifying, and Ravio finds himself shivering at the sight of the dark clouds that flash through his doppelganger's eyes.

“Yes, well. I’m not exactly Hylian.”

Mr. Hero only snorts at that, but from that point on, Mr. Hero stopped setting out a little dish of honey on the countertop while they ate.

It is annoying that he chose to put it on the porch though.

“What are the little bumbly things?” Tune asks, staring at him with his face twisted up in confusion. “And why is everyone else scared of them?”

Ravio’s head shoots up from his bag, eyes flitting around nervously as he searches for the “bumbly things” in question, only to have the kid point out a whole nest of them perched in a tree not far from their camp, a few soldiers standing about and pointing, their idiot selves likely considering the pros and cons of raiding it.

“Bees.” He clips back, voice strained as he tries to force a smile for the youngster. “They make honey and wax and things.”

Tune frowns, silver-teal eyes flickering in thought. “I’ve never heard of bees before. I don’t think we have them on the great Sea.”

“Don’t have what on the Great Sea, kid?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir questions, and Ravio jumps in surprise when he sees the man leaning over him to look at the sailor.

“Mr. Captain Hero Sir!”

“Ravio.” The leader’s face melts into a lovely smile, bright and honest in a way it isn’t most of the time anymore. “What are you two talking about?”

“Bees.” Wind points again to the nest in the tree, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s face melts into a tired frown that only becomes a scowl as he spies Mask already halfway up the backside of the tree where the soldiers can’t see him.

“Bees.” Comes the tired sigh.

“Mr. Hero keeps bees.” Ravio muses. It’s been forever since he’d seen his dear friend, and it makes him worry. Is Mr. Hero eating enough? Who’s making sure he doesn’t fall asleep on the floor? Who’s keeping the house clean so he can tend the orchard? Is someone there to make sure that there’s food in the house? That trips are made to the market?

Oh heavens! Worry gnaws away in his chest. What if the soldiers have caught Mr. Hero again? What if he’s been hurt and there’s no one there to help him clean and dress the wounds?

The animals that flit over the house like something out of a fairy tale can only do so much, and blood will only scare them away, just as sure as Ravio’s startled squeaks and whimpers would.

“Hey.” A warm hand settles on his shoulder and he finds himself looking up into rich royal eyes as Mr. Captain Hero Sir stares down at him with concern. “You okay?”

“I’m worried.” He murmurs in return, fingers fiddling with the edges of his scarf. “But there’s nothing that can be done about it, not yet.” He tries for a smile, but he knows based off of his friend’s reaction that either it can’t be seen beneath his hood or that it’s not convincing. “Go get Mask, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, before he gets himself stung.”

There’s a sharp cry or three and the angry buzzing of bees and the three of them wince collectively. “Or not.” The tired captain sighs, patting his shoulder gently before darting over to the campfire and grabbing one of the discarded torches.

“What-”

“Smoke calms bees down.” Ravio answers before Tune can finish asking the question. “Mr. Hero uses it when they get really fussy.”

Tune stares at him oddly, but doesn't ask.

That evening, Ravio finds himself with an armload of Mask while the kid sulks and pouts, grumbling and swearing under his breath as the merchant and captain work together to free him from his bee inflicted torture.

“Thank the goddesses you’re not allergic.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir scolds, waving his tweezers in Mask’s face while Ravio tries his hardest to focus on a stinger lodges between the kid’s fingers, fighting winces and whimpers of his own while Mask sits through the scolding and treatment with only the occasional hiss and glare.

“I’ve dealt with bees before.” Their youngest huffs petulantly.

“Wild bees?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir cocks a brow, disbelieving.

“Forest bees.” The kid rolls his eyes.

“Well then you should know by now not to mess with them.” The captain sounds, and acts, so much like a tired father that it makes Ravio smile softly.

How would Mr. Captain Hero Sir deal with Mr. Hero’s snark and sass, he wonders.

How would the captain handle yet another self-sacrificing teenager who really needs an adult, he muses that night, as two sticky pre-teens curl against the captain’s sides, the three wrapped in the man’s scarf while Mr. Captain Hero Sir strokes their blonde heads. Mask is drooling and Tune keeps twitching and snoring loudly, but the man who holds them couldn’t look more at peace.

Bright blue eyes meet his own over the campfire’s flames. “There’s room for one more.”

The snort pushes itself from him before he has a chance to stop it. “Where?”

The man smiles, shifting and pulling Mask into his lap, the kid nestles against his chest, tucking his thumb in his mouth slowly in a motion that has Ravio cooing softly while the captain laughs. “Such a grown up.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir teases softly, knowing full well the target can’t hear him, before patting the ground next to him. “Here.”

Ravio doesn’t say no. Mr. Captain Hero’s arms aren’t as warm and safe and home-like as Mr. Hero’s, but they’re nice, and it’s closer to home than he is on the opposite side of the fire. As he settles down, the captain smiles at him, face cheeky as he motions to the bowl still sitting at his knee. “Honey?”

After that night, he successfully impressed two heroes of courage with how much honey he could eat, and when the light had faded fully, Mr. Captain Hero Sir found himself with three snoring boys I his arms, each full to bursting with sweet golden honey, and each nursing more than a few stings.

When Impa made her rounds, whispering a teasing comment about going soft, the captain only shot her a grin and a playfully rude gesture, making the woman laugh.

“Bees!” Tune- no, Wind- chuckles, pointing out the hives behind the house as if he’s never seen the creatures before.

Captain hero Sir Jr. Winces, pulling away from the field as his father- brother? Snorts out knowing laughter behind them.

“Yeah.” Mr. Hero shrugs. “They help keep the orchard healthy and provide us with honey and wax. We practically need six colonies with how much honey Ravio eats.” The jab is playful but the easy smile on Mr. Hero’s face fades when he sees the uneasy way that all of the others are staring at the hives, Captain Hero Sir Jr. backing away and shaking his head slowly, soft murmurs of ‘no, no, no’ sounding as he and Wind exchange looks.

Mr. Hero crosses his arms. “You’re not all afraid of bees, are you?”

Guilty glances are exchanged between the heroes.

“To be fair,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. raises one hand, looking every inch the over-grown child that he is. “They sting.”

The simple statement has Mr. Hero blinking slowly in disbelief as the others all nod along, murmurs of agreement humming along with the bees as the vet stares in shock. “You’re all scared of bees?” A nervous shuffle spreads through the group, worsening as several of the fuzzy insects in question begin to make their way over. “Unbelievable.” Mr. Hero breathes, throwing his hands up.

“They- they sting.” Ravio reminds him, shivering as several of the creatures in question begin to land on Mr. Hero’s arms and hands, tiny les crawling along as the insects look for their favored snack in the hero’s grasp.

Mr. Hero raises a hand. “Look,” He almost sounds pleading. “Sky, pities sakes, it’s like a hummingbird!”

That seems to work on Mr. Chosen Hero, who peers forwards carefully, but none of the others are convinced.

It’s nervous glances that are thrown around the house by the heroes.

The bees followed Mr. Hero inside and even by his own admission he can’t force them back out without upsetting them, so instead he lets them hover around his ears and crawl over his fingers, an odd little expression on his face as they do so.

Ravio and the heroes give him a wide berth.

“Okay.” Mr. Traveler Hero frowns. “Is Legend being weird, or is that just me?”

“He’s always like this.” Ravio sighs, clutching his scarf in both hands and worrying the fringe he’d sewn onto this one. “You should see the lawnmowers.”

The heroes share a look. “Lawnmowers?”

“Deer.” He replies, an easy smile pulling at previously tensed features. “All sorts of forest animals really. It’s a nice help, but I can’t stand the bees.”

“Ah.”

A giggle breaks their focus, and shocked faces whip around to where Mr. Hero is curled up in his chair, cheeks pink as bees swarm over him, buzzing happily while the vet giggles and chortles softly, muffled complaints sounding from behind his hands. “Ladies, please! I’m-” Another laugh breaks the silence, violet eyes glittering in the fading light of the kitchen as Legend reaches up to gently remove a bee from where it’s crawling over the tip of his ear.

“The vet’s ticklish.” Mr. Rancher breathes, mischief lighting a dangerous fire in his eyes as he watches Legend plead with his insect friends to leave him alone.

“Oh yes!” The mischief is echoed in Mr. Chosen Hero’s crystal blue gaze as he winks. “Very.”

Soft titters and gentle laughs sound and the rest are drawn close as the vet playfully bats away the bees, begging and pleading between laughs as buzzes that could almost be laughter sound.

One of the tiny things settles on Mr. Smithy’s nose, humming lightly as the smithy stares at t in horror before buzzing off again harmlessly.

The next morning at the breakfast table, Mr. Hero makes extra certain to close the window while Ravio sets out fresh tea and biscuits, accompanied by warmed honey.

Mr. Hero isn’t safe however, and Mr. Chosen Hero makes a point of proving how ticklish the vet can be when he gently rubs his fingers over the tips of Mr. Hero’s ears. The honey wand drizzles sweet syrup everywhere as a startled and breathy laugh sounds, his friend batting off a grinning Mr. Cosen Hero and begging for him to stop.

“Sky! Sky please! Oh golly! Dad! Stop!”

When at last the caped hero releases Mr. Hero it’s with a beaming flush over his face while the vet groans against the hardwood table, honey absolutely everywhere.

“Quite buzzy there, honeybee.” Ravio chuckles, grin spreading wider at the half-hearted scowl sent his way.

[helkaluin]

lovers' quiet

pairing: kyoraku shunsui x ukitake jushirou

warnings: none

word count: 971 words

summary: A quiet moment shared between lovers with a bond unlike any other.

Seeing the pink kimono of Captain Kyoraku fluttering about near the Thirteenth Division barracks had become a normal sight in the past few weeks. Ever since their Captain Ukitake was bedridden due to a particularly violent bout of coughing that ravaged his already weak frame, the Eighth Division captain was visiting a lot more than normal.

"Taicho-san!" Third Seats Kiyone and Sentaro greeted Shunsui as he came into view.

"Ah, hello," Shunsui tipped the edge of his straw hat, good-natured smile already in place. Then it quickly faded into concern, "How is he?"

"Doing better than yesterday, at least," Kiyone chirped, "He's probably asleep now because of the medicine."

"I see. Thank you for your help, Kiyone-kun, Sentaro-kun. Jushirou's lucky to have you both."

The two Third Seats blushed and saluted hastily. Shunsui watched them scramble off and slowly slid the bedroom door open.

It has been centuries already yet the sight of Jushirou still stole Shunsui's breath away from him. Even sickly, his long, white hair was thrown about him like a halo. The gentle features of his beautiful face had a touch of sharpness one could only achieve after millennia of being a Gotei 13 captain. Chapped pink lips were parted slightly in his sleep. Dark, long lashes rested upon soft, unblemished skin. 

Shunsui approached Jushirou, making sure not to disturb his lover's sleep, and lowered himself at the white-haired shinigami's side. The warm sunlight flooding in from the open doors cast a glow on Jushirou's pale, smooth skin.

The brunette sighed, still in love after all these years. He reached out to brush a stray white hair from Jushirou's face. Then, those long, dark lashes fluttered.

One hand stilling in its movement, a small smile curled Shunsui's lips. Jushirou's breathtaking green eyes fluttered open, revealing that kind gaze that made Shunsui fall in love with him all those years ago.

"My, my, Jushirou," Shunsui chuckled, brushing a thumb over one pale cheek. "So naughty."

Jushirou smiled, sheepish but not regretful. "I wanted to stay awake since you were coming."

There was a quiet rattle in his breath behind every word. Shunsui thought to ignore it for now, seeing as to how the air was clear on that particular day.

The brunette continued to stroke Jushirou's hair, applying gentle pressure in some places to alleviate the headache one would get from resting so long. The white-haired captain leaned into his touch, a content smile on his face.

"You're awfully doting today." Jushirou mused aloud, opening an eye to look at him.

Shunsui grinned, "Aren't I 'awfully doting' everyday?"

"Mm. That's true. I'll have to apologise to Ise-fukutaicho when all of this is over."

"Now, now, before you assume anything, I finished all my work before coming here. In fact, I have the slip from Nanao-chan to confirm it!"

Jushirou laughed, raspy yet angelic to Shunsui's ears all the same. "Alright, alright, I believe you."

Then, Jushirou's face tightened with pain and his whole body tensed like a wound-up coil. Shunsui quickly unfurled his reiatsu and blanketed his lover, hoping that the familiarity of it would help the him relax. Thankfully, his theory was proven correct when Jushirou let out a small sigh and got his breathing under control.

"Maybe it's time to take your medicine." Shunsui said gently, carressing Jushirou's temple. He took the jug of medicine from the nearby cupboard and poured it into a cup. He helped Jushirou sit up with one steady hand, kneading the weakened muscles of his back as the white-haired shinigami took his medicine in small sips.

When Jushirou was done, he held onto Shunsui's kimono and gazed at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Can you-" Jushirou stopped himself mid-sentence before continuing, "Can you stay here with me?"

Shunsui longed to say yes, wanting nothing more than to have his lover in his arms, but knew he couldn't do so. He had a Captains' Meeting soon, one important enough that Yamamoto would have his head if he wasn't present.

He gently took the hand holding on to his kimono. Pressing a kiss to his lover's palm, he looked into those green eyes regretfully.

"I'm sorry. There's a Captains' Meeting that I can't miss, or else Yama-ji will kill me." Shunsui murmured.

It was heartbreaking to see that hopeful expression fall. It was even more soul-wrenching when Jushirou smiled, obviously trying to hide his sadness.

"That won't do. Who will dote on me if you're gone?" Jushirou teased, lifting the hand in Shunsui's grasp to tickle at his beard.

Shunsui chuckled and rested his hand on Jushirou's face. "Will you be alright?"

"Will you be alright?" Jushirou shot back, green eyes alight with amusement. "Who knows how many important things you'll forget without me."

When Shunsui didn't laugh, Jushirou sighed, his breath rattling in his chest, and flicked the other captain lightly on the cheek.

"I'll be fine, Shunsui, really. Stop worrying."

Shunsui wanted to say that it was impossible not to, his thoughts occupied by Jushirou all day, but decided to keep it to himself.

"...alright. I'll be back after the meeting, handsome." Shunsui promised with a flirtatious wink, delighted to see Jushirou flush a bright red. He lowered Jushirou carefully and rearranged the sheets so that it was up to the white-haired shinigami's chin.

Jushirou's eyes were already half-lidded and he tried to keep himself awake. It was an adorable sight that tempted Shunsui to actually stay. But no, Shunsui restrained himself from doing so and pressed a kiss to Jushirou's forehead.

"Love you." Jushirou murmured.

"I love you too. Take care."

And with that, Shunsui departed with a heart heavier than normal, and looked forward to the end of the meeting before it had even begun.

__________

notes: 'taicho' means captain and 'fukutaicho' means lieutenant.

this draft had been sitting in the cellar for so long so i thought it was time to let it free...also writing for this pairing just fills me with so much serotonin 😭

sir that's my emotional support married couple

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 11

Silent scream

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets shut up

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Fuck you." I snapped, mustering all the saliva I could before spitting it at his face. He flinched back when it splattered over his cheek, his fingers swiping through the spittle before he was shaking it from them and standing back to his full height.

"It appears this one is never going to cooperate. If she won't give us information, why let our experimentations on her possibly...benefit the girl the the future?" The general spoke menacingly to the guards behind me. "How about way find a way to shut her up?"

My heat thudded so hard in my chest it was like someone was punching me from the inside, all air knocked from my lungs before I was being hoisted up to my feet again with two rough grips on my upper arms. My chest heaving, I coughed a ragged breath before composing myself. The glint of the silver blade in the corner of my vision sent my eyes bugging out of my skull and my mind into a flat panic.

So, I did what any rational person with my capabilities would do. I began to hum the deep melody - one a seldom sung - and a smirk crawled its way onto my now curved lips. Clearly, the general was prepared, but the two guards behind we weren't so lucky.

A desperate cry pierced my tune, harmonising with my voice as I heard the havoc I was causing. This was the first time I'd enjoyed a kill, the very first time I'd wanted to use my powers for such a horrific reason. I'd only ever used this part of my power a few times, but this was the only time I'd been fully lucid whilst doing so.

Some people want nothing more than to blow their enemies' brains out, and trust me when I tell you; It felt good.

However, luck was never on my side, and the General had come full prepared. He wasn't even affected, it must've been something to do with the funny earpiece he was wearing.

As my eyes met his, the General's face held non of the cocky, smug tones that I'd expect. No, the only word I could use to describe his old and crinkled features was pure ire, and it was directed at me.

"You conniving, vile little bitch!" He snarled, the flash of silver weeding a sense of utter and complete dread, tangled with fear inside of me, uprooting my confidence. I don't remember a lot after that, to tell you the truth. I know the blade sliced along my throat. I know everything was rained black. And that's about it.

...

Awakening with a gasp was the last thing I expected to happen. The sight of the blade risen in front of the general burned into my mind, almost as if it'd been scorned against my flesh. But here I was: awake, gasping for breath, completely surrounded by doctors I'd never seen before.

My hand instantly flew to my neck, a stinging sensation pulsing from the delicate skin. I hissed as my sweaty palm made contact with the bandage, the material corse and scratchy against my skin. As a doctor waddled over to me, needle in hand, I flailed desperately, a silent scream ripping from my throat.

Hang on a second-

Silent scream? I tried again, the shrill noise that should be tearing from me simply vanishing as it hit my throat. My eyes widened with the realisation, my bottom lip wobbling as I suddenly pieces together what had happened.

He said he'd have to shut me up, didn't he? The thought made me want to scream loudly, that the blade had touched my skin and left me with no defence.

They took away the hell they'd reigned upon me, something I'd wished I could be rid of for years, and now I was disappointed. Maybe this was their plan all along, that little voice in my head sang. The tears pricked at my eyes, which rolled back lazily as the scratch of the needle poked at my neck.

...

My calloused fingers ran over the cut tirelessly, trying to itch somewhere that I could never seem to find. I don't know how long I was sedated for, but since waking up the bleeding had stopped and there was now an offensive red line that slid horizontally across my neck.

Every time I touched it, it coaxed a wince from me, and yet that's all I seemed to do. It was like poking a bruise, I guess. The more it hurts the more you want to do it.

They'd returned me to my cell, clearly very little need for restraints against my weakened, starved and dehydrated body. I could see the flesh thinning on my arms, my ribs pressing painfully against my skin. Not only could I see the hunger, but I could feel it.

Manifesting, biting, gnawing hunger. The type that are you from inside out, devouring everything of you until the only thing you could think about was eating. Huh, I guess I was already at that stage then.

My eyes remained locked in place, glossy with the endless tears as I stared at the floor. If I really looked hard enough, the still wet blood smeared over the floors of the hallway resembled something close to strawberry jam. The thoughts of the sickly sweat substance spread over a perfectly toasted piece of bread, accompanied with a big glass of fresh orange juice and washed down by a large coffee made my mouth water. The booming rumble in my stomach made the groan, even more drawn out than expected when I remembered all I'd get to eat today: a small bread roll and a tiny glass of water.

Sadly, the sink in my cell did not contain drinking water. The liquid was so discoloured that I purposely avoided washing me hands, preferring to possible have my own germs coating my hands than whatever they were giving me. I'm not kicking you about, I genuinely think the water was filtered through a clump of fucking horse shit, mixed with fish guts and complimented with a hint of rotting fruit. If I could help it, I'd be dodging that water like the plague (if it didn't contain one already) for the rest of my life.

I'm not really sure why, but my head snapped up in surprise why the door sprang open, a single guard entering.

"The general requires your presence." He deadpanned, eyes cold as eyes and sharp as a knife as they stabbed through me. I wanted to fight back, stay glued to the spot and snap back some snarky remark, but in my current condition I almost couldn't bring myself to care where I was about to be taken, or why for that matter.

I stood without a word, silently following the man until we reached an unfamiliar metal door. I found it almost laughable, really, that they'd reduced my strength so much, that no one even considered putting me any sort of restraints anymore.

The door was pushed open with a child-like whine emitting from its rusty hinges, the metal scraping over the concrete floor painfully. The guard simply grabbed my arm before tugging me into the room, letting the door shut behind his with a hollow thunk.

"Ah, she has arrived!" The general's voice exclaimed, a deviant smile spreading over his thin lips. "And just in time to meet Mr Pierce, too." He said menacingly.

I felt embarrassed, exposed, stood before the room of men. My hair was a mess, tears streaking my reddened face, eyes puffy from crying and the only clothes a wore was a now-battered hospital gown. My eyes darted around nervously, trying to avoid the blonde man sat before me, chin resting in his palm as he surveyed me.

"Why is this one...important?" The man asked, eyeing me up and down before his eyes seemed to fixate on my neck. The scar.

"This," the general spoke, but Mr Pierce kept his eyes on me, "is Miss y/n Stark." Mr Pierce's eyes widened ever so slightly, but it was barely noticeable.

"As in Tony Stark?" Pierce pondered.

"The very same." The general smirked.

"She seems awfully...quiet, for a Stark." Pierce said with almost a hint of disgust, eyes still glued to my shaking frame.

"That's because we shut her up." The general snapped, awfully harshly.

"Is that the scar? How fresh is it?" Pierce jabbed his questions, curiosity clearly becoming him in the moment.

"Indeed. Our doctors here are very good, Sir. They had her all patched up and out of bandages in just three days." The general bragged, shoulders back and head held high as if he was posing for a portrait.

"I see." Pierce mused, brows furrowed in thought. "What do you plan to do with her? Now that she can't tell you anything?"

"Oh, trust me, sir. She wasn't giving anything up either way," he paused, striding over to me and yanking my head back with a fistful of hair, my back mow  pressed to his chest and his mouth at my ear, "isn't that right, sweetheart?"he clarified, and I didn't hesitate to nod my head as much as his grip would allow.

"So why isn't she dead?" Pierce gritted, seemingly annoyed. "It's not like Tony's attached to her, he never looked for her and I've never even heard him mention her."

"But then they'll keep coming. I don't want the avengers on my back, and I'm sure you don't either." Pierce hummed in agreement. "She's with them - her and that Captain America guy arrived together - so why not use her to send a message?" The general suggested.

...

That's how I found myself tied up, wrists bound and gun to my head as I sat shakily in a chair in the middle of the quinjet. I had no clue how long I'd been since that day, but I do know that I had been sedated once again. The flimsy hospital gown allowed a shiver to chill me, skin  forming goosebumps as I sat before the open door or the quinjet.

"You will tell them exactly as I just did. Got it?" The general pressed, pushing the gun into my head hard enough to make by head throb. Tears biting at my eyes, I nodded furiously, now determined to live with the promise of being free again. "Good. Soldat, make sure she gets back to New York without being seen, I'd hate to have to spill more blood than we intended." The general demanded, a figure rustling its way out of the shadows at the edge of the room. A gasp tore from my throat at the sight of him - clad in black leather and arm as silver as the moon. The soldier - my soldier.

But he simple stared through me, eyes blank and clouded in a coldness I'd never had directed at me from him before.

"And make sure you don't fail this time, soldat." The general snapped. The soldier nodded solemnly, the echoing of boots thudding filling both their ears as the general walked off the ship.

[captainjimothycarter]

What are Steve's wedding vows to Peggy?

Hey i wrote something since like Saturday. kinda proud of myself despite BAD anxiety over this.

--

“Are you ready, Steve?”

The question came from Edwin Jarvis, the man sticking his head in through the curtains to smile at the nervous Captain. Steve just held up the bowtie in despair, trying to hide the shake in his fingers.

“I can mull down hundreds of Nazis. I can fight Hydra to the bone and-and nearly be killed by a frozen tundra, but what defeats me is a god dang bow tie!”

Jarvis laughed as he stepped into the small side room, giving him a comforting smile. “You know,” he mused as he started to do the tie. “When I was marrying my Ana, I was so nervous I fainted right as we got to I do.”

Steve felt himself gap, looking the man up and down. He could picture that, not that he would say it. He felt like he might faint before he even got out to where Bucky and Colonel Phillips were waiting for him.

“When I came to, my head was in Ana’s lap and I insisted she was an angel. She practically is - not that I’ll ever insist anything different. She’s never let me live that down, that rascal. The point is, Captain Rogers,” the man smirked as he finished the tie and smoothed it out along Steve’s neck. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“I’m...Captain America, I shouldn’t be nervous, I wasn’t nervous when-”

“Let me ask you something,” Jarvis spoke over him, patting the guy’s shoulders to get him to sit down. He pulled a comb out of nowhere and started to fix Steve’s mousy hair from his constant fingers combing through it. All Steve could do was look on in the mirror. “When you bulldozed through of Hydra agents or lead your Howling Commandos through countless missions or did whatever you did in what the reports do not say, were you nervous?”

“Of course not, those guys depended on me. I couldn’t afford to be nervous or second think my actions, someone might’ve died.” Plenty of people did, in ways Steve could’ve never stopped or predicted unless he’d been there, but he was one person.

Not that Jarvis was asking about this.

“Exactly. They depended on you. You needed to be ready for anything, to overcome anything Hydra would’ve thrown at you. Yet with Miss Carter, you’re nervous about your wedding? It’s practically a tradition to be nervous. Do you know what that means?”

“That I’ll fumble my vows or drop the rings and it’ll roll into a gutter, never to be seen again?”

Jarvis snorted and lightly squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “No, Captain Rogers, it does not. It means that you love her. You love Miss Carter with every fiber of your being. It means you, my friend, will have an amazing wedding and marriage. Even if you do fumble, you can do no worse than me and fainting.”

Steve covered his face, trying to stabilize his breathing. He did love Peggy - Jarvis was right. There was no doubt about that. He loved her. Loved her so damn much he might explode. He just...was nervous.

“Being nervous,” Jarvis continued as he put the comb away and tilted Steve’s head up to inspect himself in the black and white suit. “Being nervous is a tradition. It means you love her. I’m sure Miss Carter is nervous too.”

Steve���s mouth opened to counter, Peggy couldn’t be nervous - he’s seen her stare enemies dead in the eye and not miss a beat. He’s seen her let herself get shot if it meant saving the hostage. He’s seen her survive countless trails and still stand on top at the end of the day. There’s no way Peggy was nervous. Yet, the second he opened his mouth to say something, Bucky stuck his head through the curtain.

His hair was perfectly parted thanks to his mother’s intervention. He was sure the second his ma wasn’t looking, he would mess it up. The suit he wore was a little on the older side, insisting he got to wear his dad’s suit to this wedding.

“You ready, Stevie? That green isn’t a good shade, bud.”

Steve gently swatted at Bucky’s chest as he adjusted the suit once more, trying to take in a deep breath to calm down.

“Shut up. I’m just...nervous. How’s everything looking? We ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be. Ole Phillips is grumbling as ever. Dugan is waiting up there, Angie is ready. We’ve already had to stop the niece and nephew from throwing the flowers everywhere.”

“Oliver and Penny really like those roses, huh?” Steve’s lips twitched into a small laugh at the idea of the kids going haywire with those roses. “And Peggy? Is she…?”

“Ana and Rose and even Howard are in there, it’s alright.” Seeing his friend’s panic look, he smoothed down his suit again, the metallic hand glimmering in the dull light of the chapel. “Let’s get this party started and get you two crazy kids married.”

--

“Always knew you two would end up together,” Phillips grunted as Steve stood nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “From the second she laid eyes on that scrawny form of yours.”

Steve laughed, a more forceful laugh given the nervous state he was in. He watched Jarvis politely sit down after checking in on the girls, Rose already coming up to stand by them. Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder, squeezing him too hard.

“Told you,” he chuckled. “You two were meant to be…”

“‘cept you shouldn’t have shown up in the bar when we were having your public funeral,” Dugan interjected. “Not the best idea, Cap.”

“You’re lucky Carter didn’t shoot you on the spot, coming up with a soiled uniform, and half that glass in your chest,” Phillips grunted.

“Wouldn’t have hurt as bad, if-”

Steve stopped the second he heard Ana playing the piano, turning on his heels and towards the door.

He watched Oliver and Penny run through with the flowers, throwing them everywhere but the floor. His little giggle and the laugh through the chapel made him relax a little, but the second he saw Peggy, everything was back in full force.

She was...beautiful, spectacular. A thousand words he couldn’t think to say. His mind nothing but a fine-tuned sound of buzzing as he watched her slowly walk through that door. Ana had worked perfectly on that dress, the trim, the lace, every down to the last details of the pearls knitted into the collar.

Steve could feel the tears burning in his eyes as she slowly stood in front of him, hearing in the corner of his mind, Phillips muttering about sap.

He loved her.

“You look…” Steve struggled with the word as he held onto her glove-laced hands, looking down at them and slowly back to those beautiful hazel eyes that he’d fallen in love with before he even knew what color they were.

“I know,” Peggy finished, squeezing his hands. “You look pretty dashing yourself. We-”

“How about we get this show on the road, huh?” Phillips asked, breaking the silence, and the music slowly melted into the background. “We all knew we’d end up here today. It was just a matter of time and if it was legal or not. I expected you two to just waltz into my tent one day and demand to be married, the laws and logic be damned.”

“Almost,” Steve mused, shrugging his shoulders. Phillips’ grey eyes were trained on him, brow rose as if to ask what. “I proposed to Peggy after she’d been shot during the hostage situation of ‘44.”

“Son.” The tone said all and the Howling Commandos laughed the loudest. Steve glanced over to see Peggy’s side of the family, most with pursed lips. They still weren’t pleased that their daughter was marrying a Yankee.

“We told him to do it,” Dugan interjected.

“Dared him, actually,” Jones added.

“Double-dog dared him,” Bucky said.

“Actually, we told him to do it or we would on his behalf,” Pinky reminded them.

“We-”

Phillips’ look silenced Falsworth on the spot, the man clearing his throat and stepping back in line. “We’re no longer at war, boys, you don’t have to keep defending your Captain under insane circumstances. I’ll never forget about the damn goat incident.”

--

It was only a few minutes later before Phillips cleared his throat again and nodded towards the couple. “The couple has written their own vows. Ca-Steve, would you like to go first?”

Steve blinked as he felt Peggy’s eyes on him, trying to calm his racing heart down. “Okay, yeah. Yeah,” he breathed, taking the paper Dugan had passed him. “I stayed up till 4 in the morning working on this. Mr. Jarvis had to eventually take the pen from me so I’d sleep.”

“And he didn’t accept my help,” Howard muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear, making the Captain flush.

“Okay, here it goes,” Steve breathed, unfolding the paper and trying not to let how nervous he was shown. His hands were already starting to shake and he was afraid sweat would ruin the ink.

Peggy’s hand gently closed around his wrist and offered him a comforting smile. “It’s okay, darling. Just us. Not a whole platoon of guys to play Star-Spangled Man With A Plan.”

If he wasn’t blushing then, he was now.

“Peggy, I…” Steve looked down at the paper and back up at her. He could hear Jarvis’s voice in the back of his head telling him that when he got up there, he’d know what to say. Fumbling or not.

“Peggy, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you and I didn’t know it. I didn’t know what the color of your lips was or the color of your eyes or your hair or even your uniform. I didn’t know the true sound of your voice or the smell of the roses on your skin. I didn’t know much then - hell I don’t know much now -”

A few people laughed and Steve lowered the paper, looking dead into his wife-to-be eyes.

“I didn’t know much then. I just knew you were hell on high heels and damn anyone who got in your path. When you first knocked out Hodge, I felt my breath taken away. When you ran for the grenade too, I wanted my last sight to be of you, swore I was goin’ blow myself up to a million pieces. Our first conversation in that car might’ve been one of our lasts and I was glad it was with you, someone who understood me. Understood what it was like to be discriminated against because we’re us… Because I was sickly and small and you were a woman, a girl, a-”

“You still don’t know how to talk to women, do you?” Peggy asked, blinking the tears from her eyes and making Steve give a wet laugh.

“I”m afraid not, how I managed to get you to fall in love with me is a wonder. The point is, Pegs, I love you, from the bottom of my heart. All through the war, we talked about what we wanted after. I insisted on a white-picket fence, a house in some neighborhood, that we’d build the perfect life together and well...you saw where that lead us. Me to a watery grave and you punching me out when I showed up at that bar. Even if I was late for our dance.

I just...I love you. Life has taken us on insane turns from clearing our friend’s name to-to living in LA for a few months. To...to here. To me finally getting the guts to purpose to you. Or more like catching my breath. I need you in my life and I’m lucky to have you. I’m more than happy to sit on the sidelines and let you work, to raise our kids or tend to a home, to do anything you ask. I’m more than happy to just be yours. I just...I need to be yours like I need to breathe. You are my life, Peggy Carter, and I’ll have no other but you. I’m lucky to be your husband, to be by your side through it all.”

Peggy didn’t bother to hide the few tears running down her face, thankful Angie had fixed her makeup just right to prevent the tear streaks from showing. She cleared her face off with the handkerchief Rose had given her and sniffled.

“Sap,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I stayed up late last night but not writing these vows. I...told myself I knew what I was going to say when I got up here, but I’m mistaken. I can only say I love you, Steve Rogers. You are my life. My soul. When I was young, I insisted I wouldn’t marry. I insisted my life was to slay dragons, rescue knights, be a pirate. To be anything but the lady my mother wanted me to be.

I insisted I knew what I wanted for myself. That I-I wanted to be a codebreaker and I was good at it. I-”

“And saved our lives with it,” Howard said, causing them to laugh.

“Yes, Howard, thank you. I am good at it. I’m great at it. I insisted that’s all I could do to help the war effort, to maybe consider becoming a nurse but my mother and Fred forbidden it. I insisted I loved Fred because my mother did. I insisted that I could do some good by staying home, being the good wife, and keeping my head down. I insisted on a lot of things but for myself…

It took Micheal’s death for me to see there was more for me out there. The SSR was life-changing for me. Getting to serve under Colonel Phillips’ here, getting to meet you, even if you were...different.”

“It’s okay, call him a shrimp like I did,” Phillips interjected, making Peggy give a wet chuckle. “Kid got that sandwich after all.”

He swore the man smiled at him - even if Steve wouldn’t admit it.

“You were different. You stood out from the rest and it was because of your good heart. Yes the grenade incident, but you helped the nurses around the base. You helped collect herbs for them when we ran out of pain killers, you remembered decades-old healing practices that your mother taught you. You gave some of the guys, even if they were bastards to you, advice on how to fix their broken shoelaces or how to even hide the knives better in their clothes. You were kind and sweet-hearted and I wanted you from the start.

Even after your serum, you didn’t change. You saved that kid. You saved me, even if I was quite upset about it.”

“You did yell at me a lot for pushing you out of the way,” Steve interrupted, remembering that chaotic day.

“You were running with no shoes on and shoved me out of the way of an oncoming car. I had to yell about something.” She smoothed down his suit and sighed, shaking the veil. “Even after that, Steve, I...I love you. I loved you from the start. During the war, that love only grew. I thought we hid it well.”

“No,” Bucky snorted. “No, you two did not. Everyone knew.”

“Yes, thank you, James,” Peggy huffed, giving her friend a roll of her eyes. “That love for you grew and I’m only sorry we didn’t act sooner, that we didn’t kiss more or-or risk it to just touch each other in blatant public when we needed the comfort because it was a war. I am sorry that it took this long to get here - but we’re here. Look at us. We’re here, sweetheart. We’re getting married after all in a setting of our choice, with our friends and family. It’s worth the wait.”

“You’re always worth the wait,” Steve whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I love you,” Peggy whispered, squeezing his hands. “I loved you then, to now, and forevermore. I’ll never stop loving you, no part of my soul will be complete without you. You are my light, Steven Grant Rogers, as I am your compass, your true star north. You are my light and I want nothing more from you than a life that we paved together.”

There was no dry eye around them, even the grisled Colonel was sniffing slightly and wiping at his eyes. He squeezed the book in his hand and gave the couple a warm smile. “Aren’t you two kids sweet? Why don’t we wrap this up so you two can kiss like how you did in the supply closets?”

Steve felt his ears burn, turning back to Peggy and holding her hands. He wasn’t sure how he survived the rest of the ceremony. Of Bucky bringing the rings to them, his ma’s old ring that Howard had cleaned up and engraved with their wedding date on it. Peggy’s father’s wedding band.

He wasn’t sure how he barely got the words I do our before Peggy was jumping on him to kiss him and Steve’s arms found a way around her frame to pick her up and kiss the life out of her.

The wedding they dreamed of and feared that they never had.

A life yet to come with many memories down the road.

[hisoknen]

no promises || overhaul

warnings: apocalypse au, dubcon, mind break, overstimulation, orgasm denial, blood, physical trauma/injury in beginning, death of side characters wc: 2.8k

a/n: this is a piece for the bnharem collab!! make sure you go check out the other apocalypse au’s here! special thank you to @joyousandverywarlike​​ for beta reading @thewheezingwyvern brain storming with me + helping with medical stuff!

It was heard through the grapevine that the Shie Hassaikai had stockpiled food. They had first aid and many other things that were impossible to come by in the time since the collapse. 

Guards too cocky and relaxed to cover the premises. A few groups in your surrounding area had entered the compound successfully and although you have a small team and little backup, the need for provisions is far too great to ignore.

Going in with your recovery group, you quickly make silent entry into the warehouse. Despite the current circumstances in the world, this place was stocked full and spotless. You couldn't help but notice that there wasn’t a single speck of dust in the whole place, almost like no one ventured down here.

“I'm gonna head to the front Y/n, be smart. Gather as much as you can but not too much, we still gotta navigate out of this place quickly.” Your captain says in a hushed tone before advancing. 

“Remember, no one gets left behind.”

In the years before, chaos had overtaken the world. Those without a high standing in society were left in the dust to fend for themselves. It had been 10 years since the collapse of society. Only the wealthy and well connected were able to continue their lives of luxury, while the rest of the world was left to feed on the scraps of what remained. 

Shrugging the bag off of your shoulders and swinging it to your front, you unzip it and begin locating the necessary items for your team. If this is a success, you could not only head out with enough provisions for your crew, but you would also have a place to come back to in the future. 

How could you possibly gage what is too much and what isn’t enough? You need food, clothing and first aid. If you grab more gauze than food, what would happen if you ran out of provisions? There is no way to eat gauze. What is most important?

“Y/n, time to go,” you hear your captain's voice behind you seeing only his back as he heads to the exit. Quietly locating the last of the things within reach, you zip up the bag, turning back to the entrance you came in through. 

Your bag is heavier than it should be but you are known for being fast on your feet. Sprinting quietly, you open the door, catching sight of your team. “Y/n is here, we’re all ready to go.” You smile, taking a step before a loud noise sounds through your ear drums. 

What is this? Your body is overcome with a dazed feeling. You run your fingers along the side of your stomach, the damp and sticky cloth clinging to your fingers. Bringing your fingers slowly up to your eyes you see a sickly vibrant red coating them. 

The words of your captain, no one gets left behind, play over and over in your mind as you are struck by the realization of what has just happened. They wouldn’t leave you, would they? 

Your legs begin to lose their strength, hand grasping at the door frame while you begin to slide down. The slick on your fingers helps none as the concrete below comes into contact with your skull. The muffled sound of yelling in the distance, the bodies you see fleeing the warehouse and an overwhelming ringing are all you can focus on. 

No one gets left behind. No one gets left behind. No one gets left behind. Clutching at your stomach, you attempt to lessen the blood oozing from the wound. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. You command yourself, gathering your last bit of strength to press your other hand onto the floor. You gain footing, only to fall flat once again, the blood spilling between the cracks in your fingers. You can’t feel anything, everything is numb.

“What do you think you’re doing, little one?” A distorted shadow looms over you, pain coursing through your body as something blunt makes contact with your back. You hear a deafening pop followed by a searing pain in your chest. You let out a silent scream, immediately regretting it as the breath catches in your throat. Lungs collapsing in on themselves as you try in vain to take in air.

The pain once sharp now radiates in your gut. Each breath you try to take feels like breathing underwater. Your vision is fuzzy. You try desperately to gulp air to keep yourself conscious. The ache is debilitating. 

You can feel it spreading to your ribs even as you stop moving, your head pulsing. The air around you feels heavy. There is no way to process the pain. All you can do is feel, as it overtakes your senses. You try in vain to move once more, vision fading to black.

—

Your eyes feel like they are glued shut, only just able to slip them open before snapping them shut immediately. There is a blinding light overhead beaming down on you. A sharp pain riddling through your body, stomach spasming. You let out an incoherent garble at the blistering sensation. 

The constriction multiplies the existing pain tenfold. You try to pull your hand to cradle your wound, only to feel a sharp cinch at your wrists. Craning your eyes down, you see that they are strapped securely into place with a thin but strong plastic. 

“Hel-,” you struggle against your limbs screaming out in agony for you to keep quiet in order to preserve energy. Where were you? Who was there to call for? Your friends? Your team? They’d all left you the moment you were shot. Crying for help is useless but what else can you do? The more you try to move, the more the pain jolts through your body. You can see that your stomach is bandaged but there is still a vibrant red slowly seeping through it. 

“I’d sit still if I were you. Seem to have broken a rib or two along with that,” a muffled voice comes from your side, gloved hand pointing at your belly. The pulsing of your head keeps you from turning it as you let out a pathetic winded gasp, wrists jerking against the binds.

“Judging by the injuries you sustained, you’re going to be bedridden for quite some time.” The man had a plague doctor mask covering his nose and mouth leaning down into your line of sight. Through your blurred vision, you can make out his pale skin matched with short, shaggy, brown hair. 

If you weren’t occupied by the fear flooding your senses, you’d find the small golden irises peeking out at you quite beautiful. You flinch away, letting out a pathetic cry as a gloved hand lands softly on your injured belly. The movement only adds to the searing pain already pumping through your veins.

“What’s your name, little thing?” Bile rises in your throat as the pressure pushing dow and predicament begin to register in your clouded mind. You tighten your lips, eyebrows furrowing. There was no way you’d give him information about your group, even if your life depended on it. 

He stares down at you unblinking, rolling up his sleeves with a huff. Removing the wet bandage he digs a gloved finger into the wound, tearing a shriek from your lips, vision spotting. The more you struggle and wheeze, the more prominent the ache in your belly becomes. His fingers curl inside of the weeping hole, tears blinding your vision, body blistering hot. There was no breath left to cry out. 

“Y/n-” you choke out, nails tearing into your palm as you fight in vain to distract yourself from the tearing of your flesh and guts. His fingers slowly ease out, allowing you to relax for a moment.

“You made me do such a disgusting thing.” He cringes behind the mask, bringing a towel to wipe away at the blood covering his gloved hand. You see the skin on his forehead break out in small bumps.

He reaches out of your sight facing you again with a clean pair of gloves.

“Please don’t kill me,” you plead with trembling lips. All you wanted to do was provide for those you loved. Why hadn’t you died when you were shot? Did he really bring you here to torture you? Hadn’t you had enough?

“No promises.” His gaze is cold and calculating, inspecting you as though you are nothing more than a pile of filth. “They left you here all alone,” he muses, “but don’t you worry, they didn’t make it far,” he says unamused, itching at his forearm with the untainted glove. You can see the skin under his hands had begin to rise, angry bumps littering the area.

“All of the-” horror overcomes you as you think of the faces of your friends and family. Looking up at his blank face gives you all the confirmation that you need.

“I might let you leave, we’ll see. I think we can both help each other right now, Y/n.” A twisted look overtakes his face as he observes you, awaiting an answer. What does he want from you? Your team's location? Who you got intel from? 

“You came all this way to steal from me, I’m making you an offer.” He tilts his head to the side, looking displeased at your lack of response. 

“What do you want?” you growl, pulling at your restraints, immediately regretting it when you feel the raw ache of your struggle. 

“You know, it’s hard being cooped up in here, all alone,” his fingers lightly dance along the raised skin on your arm. “No one there for me when I need them. No one to please me.” His hand makes its way to the outline of your collar bone. 

“You all think it’s hard out there. But imagine being me.” Your stomach churns at his suggestion that living a life of luxury is more painful than the thousands of people scavenging the remnants of the world for supplies necessary to make it through to the next day. “You look clean enough,” he ponders aloud. You couldn’t tell if he was even talking to you or reassuring himself.

“So what do you say? You give yourself to me for a while and we can act like this whole incident never happened.” The words falling from his lips make your stomach reel, yet they were filled with sweet temptation. 

Were you willing to let this man do anything he pleased to you in order to make it out of here alive? Would there be anything for you to go back to if he even followed through with his word? If there was, how would you explain to your camp why you were the only one to return?

“Yes,” you bite your tongue, swallowing your pride. It dawned on you that you were in no place to refuse in the first place. He would take what he wanted from you regardless of what your answer was. Your survival depended on your ability to choose when to fight your battles. 

“You’re a smart one,” he lets out a soft chuckle, brushing his hands across your inner thigh and trailing them up. He pulls your body roughly to the end of the table, pain flooding your limbs at the sudden movement. Your hands are still secured above you, pants torn from your body. He stands between your legs, staring at your naked core.

Pulling out a chair, his fingers find your core. He spreads your labia, coming close to eye your cunt and push the hood of your clit back. Having him touch your cunt makes you want to gag. The man who did this to you, touching your most sacred parts sends rage throughout you. Yet the way his fingers delicately dance across your clit make your cunt throb.

“Who’d think you’d get so wet in a situation like this,” he questions, holding the slick up for you to see. You stare back at it in disgust, your body betraying you. His fingers push into your warm heat, your back arching in tune with his touch. The pain from your injury fuses with pleasure as he curls his fingers inside of your fluttering hole. With each movement he makes, you feel the pressure slowly building in your stomach. 

Without the luxury of movement all of your focus turns inward on your body and the way he is taking his time to slowly coax an orgasm from you. The leather of his gloves is covered in your arousal, plunging in and out of your core languidly. Each motion sends a jolt of revulsion and arousal to your foggy mind.

“You’re such a disgusting little whore. Getting me dirty like this,” he breathes between clenched teeth, his speed picking up as irritation takes over his features. 

“I’m gonna cu-” the pressure peaks, but before you can release, his fingers tear from your abused hole, leaving it quivering.

“I didn’t keep you alive so that could you cum,” he sneers, staring at his coated fingers, looking repulsed by the fluid covering them. “You’re here for me to enjoy,” he pulls the dirtied glove from his hand, discarding them both across the room. 

He leaves your side, the sound of a drawer slamming open startles you. He appears between your legs, with a new pair, unzipping his pants. He palms his cock a few times before sliding a condom over it.

“I have waited so long for this,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips, plunging into your pulsing cunt. A cry leaves your mouth at the sudden intrusion. He lets out a soft grunt, feeling your cunt fight against him. He continues to push into you, your walls milking him as they try and accommodate space. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” he pulls out of you slowly, easing back in inch by inch. The stretch is painful at first but soon blends into pleasure. Fingers spread apart your labia, pressing at your swollen clit, prodding against it with each rut of his hips.

Your hands tug at the restraints above your head, an ache gushing through you. You didn’t even know who the man violating your cunt was, yet you let him continue to defile you. Whines tumblr past your lips as he fills you.

“All of your team is dead and you can’t do anything but grip my cock and moan like a slut?” The words falling from his mouth bring tears to your eyes. Why were you enjoying this so much? Why does your body want more? Why do his words send a wave of arousal shuddering through your body. He’s taken so much from you, yet all you can do is let out pathetic sounds, pleading him to continue as your tongue lolls out.

“It’s like your pussy was made for me,” the sounds of slapping skin and the lewd squelching of your cunt echo through the room. Your mind goes blank, your body made to take all of what he is giving you.

There’s nothing for you to do but lie still while he milks orgasm after orgasm from you. Each time your body undulates, you feel pain in tandem, soaking into the hollow of your belly. The first orgasm takes everything from you, body limp and tender. Yet you still utter the words, begging him to keep using you, to keep fucking into your swollen pussy. Each orgasm sends a shake through your body, convulsions of agnozing pressure and relief. 

The overstimulation has sobs wracking through your spent body. You can’t take anymore, but you crave more. All you can do is focus on your breathing. You feel his pace falter, fingers digging into your hips. 

“I can’t-” A spark of electricity crashes through you when he pushes against your clit. 

A cry leaves you as he sends you over the edge a final time, bottoming out inside of you. You can feel the warmth of his release fill up the condom, his cock twitching against your walls. Your body shakes against him while your mind buzzes. The faint sound of a zipper being pulled, coaxed you out of the daze.

“When you’re able to move again, you’re free to go.” You fight to keep your eyes open, gaze following him to the other side of the room where he discards his gloves. 

“The next time you need something. Feel free to come to the front. There are... easier ways to get the things you want,” he pauses, grabbing a clean pair of gloves before walking to the door. Your eyes are droopy, his figure swimming, mind desperately trying to hang onto his words.

“But while you are here. You’ll call me Kai.”

—

masterlist

[not-wholly-unheroic]

how often does your muse get sick?, does your muse snore? sleeptalk? sleepwalk?, and habits and mannerisms?

How often does your muse get sick?

All the dang time. Perhaps it has something to do with his possible blood disorder or perhaps he’s just unlucky, but for whatever reason, Hook has the immune system of an unvaccinated toddler. Growing up in a time when children who fell ill often died, he was fortunate to make it to adulthood at all. He was a thin, sickly little kid who was almost certain to catch whatever was going around. He kept hoping he’d eventually grow out of it, but unfortunately, that didn’t happen. As a captain, he learned to hide it better and forced himself to push through things even when he felt awful, but pushing himself too hard would eventually just end up making it worse. Stress is a major trigger for his tendency to get sick, and he often finds that after a period of prolonged intense emotional distress, he will inevitably end up physically ill.

Does your muse snore? Sleeptalk? Sleepwalk?

Hook rarely ever sleeps deep enough or long enough to snore. Most nights he’s lucky if he gets a handful of hours uninterrupted. He doesn’t sleep much, and when he does, it’s often plagued by nightmares either about the crocodile or (post-redemption arc) about his past. Fortunately, he doesn’t tend to sleepwalk (because you can only safely go so far on a ship). However, he does sometimes talk in his sleep…but more often than that, he screams.

Habits and mannerisms?

Hook talks a lot with his hands (well, hand). He’s one of those people who used his whole body to express how he’s feeling, especially if he’s excited. You don’t just see how he’s feeling in his eyes or the shape of his mouth; you see it in how he stands and paces and gesticulates. He’s a theatrical person by nature and if he’s feeling something strongly, don’t expect him to sit still while telling you about it. He’s gotta be up and moving because the movements he’s making are relevant to the story he’s telling.

He also has a lot of nervous habits and facial tics (an ironic word for it considering how he feels about actual ticking). Before he can even start panicking, before he’s really even consciously registered what he’s hearing, he gets a bit…twitchy…if he hears a clock ticking. Sometimes his eye twitches. Sometimes it’s his mouth (and by extension his mustache). But he’s visibly highly uncomfortable.

Post-redemption arc, he has a button from his (deceased) first daughter’s favorite doll that he wears on a chain around his neck underneath his shirt, and he will sometimes subconsciously put a hand to his chest over where the button is when he’s feeling anxious. It has a rather calming effect on him to remember it’s there and that he isn’t alone anymore and has people who love him…even if some of them are no longer alive.