#ngl this warmed something in my cold dead heart

[petrovna-zamo]

Who do you love the most?

[sw33ts444]

frozen crown

pairing: prince!leon x fem!reader x knight!wesker

synopsis: this marriage was something you were not looking forward to. your kingdom was struggling to maintain afloat, so you, the eldest and most demure of all your sisters, were arranged to be married of to the crown prince of the most successful, powerful empire on the continent. having to leave behind your whole life, your native kingdom, and have to marry someone who was not the knight who had stolen your heart was quite possibly your worst nightmare. but... this was for the good of your people...

content warnings: very sexual content

wc: 3358

an: this series is the first that i've tried my hand at smut i'm NGL. has me nervie.

previous chapters: 1

2: arduous path

The journey north was a long and arduous one, and though your carriage was one of the more luxurious ones, the bumpy roads were still causing you immense amounts of discomfort. The carriage days spent riding were lonely, too. It was against social etiquette for your ladies-in-waiting to ride in the same carriage. Your only comfort was looking outside the carriage window, staring mainly at Wesker's broad back as he rode ahead. The scenery was slowly changing as you rode further and further north; from dead, yellowed grass from the southern warmth, to dead grey grass as they moved further into northern climates. Travelling in the dead of winter was terrible. Cold. It's been a couple weeks now, with still many more to go.

The nights, however, were far better. Your entourage had brought a luxurious tent befitting your status. It was much more comfortable in there; the oil lamps filled your tent with warmth and the multiple furs and blankets kept you from freezing to death. But the best thing was your nighttime visitor—Wesker. Every night he would come and warm your bed, warm your body with his, but never going beyond the boundaries you had placed. His passionate kisses and the desire that burned in your abdomen and soaked your undergarments was more than sufficient to stave off the cold. The first night he snuck in came as a complete surprise—it was incredibly risky for him to be coming into your tent at night. What if he was seen by the others? But his touch was so easy to give into. You were sure your night in the palace would be your last. Thank god you were wrong.

Aside from your nights of passion and love you had with Wesker, you enjoyed mealtimes. Sitting with your ladies-in-waiting was another piece of your travels that brought you comfort. Abigail, the daughter of a Marquis, was closest to you in age and perhaps the most spunky of your companions. She was loud but she was diligent, someone you considered a close friend. The second lady-in-waiting was Clarisse, recently married to Count Richard Alveston. She was stricter, more lady-like than Abigail, and her council was one you could always count on. She was like an older sister to you. Communing with them over dinner, bathing (although you pushed to bathe yourself since they were also tired, they insisted it was their duty until they left your side), was taking your mind off of the whole situation.

The days and nights bore on, the cold becoming more and more piercing the closer you got to your destination. But tonight would be different. Tonight you would be staying in an inn, finally having reached the outskirts of the empire. The carriages and horses were taken into the care of the inn's stablemaster as Wesker led you and your company into the cozy inn. The innkeeper looked astonished to see such a large amount of guests arriving all at once.

"Oh! Hello! We weren't expecting this many people," she gasped.

"Good evening, miss," you step forward to speak, "We're looking for food and board for a night for fourteen people."

"Ah, yes miss," Wesker stepped forward to correct the way you were addressed, but you put a hand out to stop him. The innkeeper looked nervously at his intimidating expression and build, but turned to you to continue speaking. "Lucky for you, we're pretty slow this time of the year, so we have lots of rooms available!" The plump, rosy-cheeked woman gave you a wide smile, "We're having cheddar broccoli soup tonight! Please, take a seat," she gestured towards the seating area before heading back to the kitchen.

You led the way to sitting at table with your ladies-in-waiting, the knights following suit and seating themselves in tables around you. Except Wesker. Ever so vigilant, he stood by your side, at full attention. "Please, sit, Wesker. You need to eat."

"Thank you, Your Highness, but I'll dine later." He responded, stiff as ever.

"Nonsense," you patted the spot next to you, "You'll only draw attention from the innkeeper like that." Wesker frowned, but followed your directions.

"Captain Wesker only ever listens to you, Your Highness!" Abigail smiled at you, "When we ask him for anything, he'll only do it when it's for you!" Clarisse gave her a piercing look.

You blushed a little at the statement and smiled. Wesker was sitting tensely beside you. He didn't like how casual this setting was, how casual the barmaid was being with you, it was clear. "I would hope he listened to me!" The knights seated at the table to your right were beginning to get loud, rowdy with the joy that they would be sleeping in a real bed. Wesker gave them a sharp look. The innkeeper and some of her help began to come out with bowls of soup for everyone, the knights almost immediately tearing into the bowls. You slowly stirred the creamy soup, taking in its delicious smells, yet you couldn't quite focus on your meal. "Do you think Lucy will be alright?" It was about the thousandth time you've asked that to your company.

"Of course," Clarisse reassured. "That girl is as strong and smart as she is stubborn. The other princesses won't have an easy time with her." You nodded, taking the first bite of your meal. Wesker hadn't touched his yet, he was simply staring down at his bowl. He'd been doing that a lot lately, staring off into space, distracted for seemingly no reason. You understood though.

"Are you going to eat that?" Abigail asked, pointing towards his soup, covering her mouth that still had broccoli in it. The inquiry snapped Wesker back to reality, his eyes shooting up to meet hers.

"Abbie!" Clarisse scolded, "Where are your manners! You are a lady-in-waiting for Her Highness, act like it!"

"I agree with Countess Alveston," Wesker's voice was low, "You represent Her Highness. Mind yourself." With that, he began to eat his soup.

"Please, I don't mind!" You smiled at Abbie, "No one knows I'm a princess here, so let's allow ourselves the space to relax!"

"Ohh thank you, Your Highness!" Abbie cried out in joy. Clarisse looked absolutely scandalised.

The rest of the evening passed without much incident. Everyone finished their bowls of soup, some asked for seconds and even thirds before they all groggily went off to their beds. Clarisse and Abbie had joined you to your room and bathed you before allowing you to rest alone.

The small room you were in was cozy, quaint. There wasn't much to the room; a small bed, a tiny table, and a dresser. There were oil lamps and a fireplace to help keep the room warm. You breathed in the wooden smell of the room; it was calming, the room was so different than what you were used to. If you focused hard enough you could almost trick yourself into thinking you were just going on a trip, a vacation.

Groggy, but not wanting to sleep just yet, you walked over to the window, gazing down at the stables below. To your surprise, Wesker was there. Basking in the moonlight. You opened your window to call out to him, but he seemed so lost in thought you couldn't bring yourself to. Instead, you took to resting your arms and head on the windowsill, having brought a chair over, and just simply watching him. Eventually, he would come up to your room. But it was still far too soon; many would not yet be actually asleep.

The gentle breeze that blew through the window, rustling the leaves of the pines that held steadfast in the cold, slowly lulled you into a deep sleep. When next you woke, Wesker had carried you to the bed, closed the window, and lit a small fire in the fireplace. Your eyes opened to the man you so loved laying beside you, propped up on one elbow as he stroked your hair. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," you broke the silence.

"What? Laying in bed?" He smirked. "I could think of better things we could be doing than just laying here." You gave him a reprimanding look, in which he responded with a peck on your lips.

"No, you pervert, I mean spending time together, like this. Imagine this quaint room was our little cabin in the woods," you sighed wistfully, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers. "We would make our living off lumber, making enough to feed ourselves and maybe even a little family. Just us, in our own little world." Wesker stayed silent as you rambled. But you knew he shared these sentiments. "...Should we elope?" You looked him in the eyes.

His silence continued for a moment longer as he struggled to respond. "If I said yes, would you?" Biting your lip, you looked away. He sighed, "I know you, dearheart. This deal, this arranged marriage, is far too important for your family, for our homeland."

"I wish... I wish things were different," you breathed. You'd grieved enough over your situation, and by this point your eyes seem to have run dry of any tears you could produce. The lump in your throat never seemed to dissipate though. "But, who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and get to keep you as my guard," a wistful smile rested on your lips as you brought your eyes back to his.

"But things would never be the same," his tone was cold, this sentence holding all the truth that you didn't want to come to terms with. You rolled over on top of Wesker, who hardly seemed surprised by this action, and you bent down to kiss him, hard. You didn't want to think anymore. All you wanted in your mind was Wesker, his kisses, his touch, his skin on yours.

The nights passed by in similar fashion as you approached the capital. Whether it was in inns or your tent, every night you'd explore almost every inch of Wesker's body. You knew every part of his body, except his cock. But boy, did you want it. Despite your insistence on never going beyond what your undergarments hid, you'd taken to grinding down and getting off on his bulge. The way his hard-on rubbed against your clothed clit drove you crazy, left you wanting more on a deeper, carnal level. Wesker was left feeling the same way, each night you took to dry humping, his abdomen would wind up covered in both his own pre and cum. Whilst his underwear would be covered in your juices. The way he looked after your little sessions, flushed, eyes darkened with lust, tip poking out of his underwear, made you want to feel him stretch out your walls, feel his cock buried so deep within you, and have him fuck you so hard that he leaves you raw.

There's even been days where you would opt for masturbating in front of him, with your panties on, as if it made any difference. You'd finger-fuck yourself, imagining it was his dick that your wet little hole was clenching around, as you watched him stroke himself. And after you finished, sometimes you'd stick your fingers in his mouth, letting him suck and lick every bit of your juices off to get a little taste. But the tender nights together are coming to an end as you and your entourage have finally arrived in the capital.

The sights of the capital robbed you of your breath as you looked out of the window of your carriage. The buildings were so tall, so large, and the architecture was like pure art. Each pillar, doorway, trim, every part of every building was made as if they were a sculptor's magnum opus. The snow that slowly drifted down covered bushes and pines and rooves and made the scene look all the more fantastical. There were wreathes on the doors of restaurants, stores, inns, and other places of business. The streets were bustling, full of curious rich commoners and nobility, staring and whispering at the carriages as they shopped and went about their business. The holidays were right around the corner and the air was thick with merriment and joy—but all the awe and amazement and contagious happiness that was fluttering around in your stomach ceased when the palace came into view. And was instead replaced with dread.

It felt like the end of the world when you stepped down from your carriage. A pit of anxiety and fear and anger and so many different emotions ravaged your stomach. But as a princess, it was second nature to not let it show. There were hundreds of staff standing bowed in welcoming, which was intimidating enough by itself. But the palace that you've arrived at surpassed the staff in their intimidation factor. It was massive, with multiple buildings, floor-to-ceiling windows, stained glass, giant pillars; it was jaw-dropping. As you did your best to stay calm, taking in the sights of the palace, a tall, grey-haired man stepped forward and grabbed your attention.

He bowed, "Welcome, Your Highness. My name is Alfred, His Majesty's attendant and aide. I've come to guide you to the council chambers to speak with His Majesty before I show you to your room."

"Thank you, Alfred." He bowed, and you gestured for him to lead the way. Wesker and your ladies-in-waiting quickly fell into step behind you, the other knights trailing in two organized single-file lines as everyone made their way through the palace. While you walked, you took in your surroundings, doing your best to not seem shocked by the sheer extravagance of the palace. The ceilings were high, painted cherubs and angels smiling down and dancing amongst clouds. The trim of every doorway, ceiling, and floor was lined with gold, even the marble floors had hints of gold.

God, did everything have to have gold? You thought a little bitterly. Perhaps this palace was just to make a show of the Northern Empire's wealth, to intimidate delegates and visits from smaller kingdoms and countries like your own. Or perhaps you were looking for some small outlet for the emotions you had to keep silent under a mask of calm. A couple of servants dragged the heavy oaken doors of the reception chambers open once you finally arrived in front of them. The chambers were what you'd expect, with a regal red carpet leading to the door, seats on both sides for when nobility must attend receptions, and at the end of the room were steps leading up to three tall, imposing chairs where the royal figures sat. Knights were stationed in entrances to the room and to the sides of the royalty observing you and your entourage.

The aide led you to near the foot of your stairs, where you curtsied, your ladies-in-waiting joining you as the knights took a knee. "Greetings to the Sun, Moon, and Star of the Empire. May Glory shine down upon the Empire for all eternity."

"You may rise," The emperor stated, his voice was deep and authoritative, fitting for a ruler. You obeyed and stood, getting a good look at the Northern Empire's royalty. His Majesty was getting on in years, with a salt and pepper beard and greys growing from his temples, slicked back and tucked beneath a heavy golden crown, laden with diamonds. His attire was decked out with all the expensive silks and golds and intricate patterns one might expect the royal family to wear, but the tight fit of his clothes revealed a hidden tone of muscle. The empress was a lot warmer and kinder looking than he was. She wore an extravagant purple gown made of beautiful tulle and it was covered in all sorts of different gemstones, glimmering brightly at the slightest movement.

And the crown prince, your intended, was dressed in a similar extravagant fashion, though quite a bit more toned down. What caught your eye though was not his clothes, but his striking blue eyes. He was not bad to look at, on the contrary he was incredibly handsome. So handsome that his face alone, ignoring his status, would making him the most eligible bachelor in the Empire.

"Welcome to the Northern Empire, Princess. We've waited for the day of your arrival eagerly," the emperor gave you a welcoming smile. "We've heard of your accomplishments in the Southern Kingdom and we're all eager to see what you can do here in the Empire, with so many new tools at your disposal."

"Thank you for the praise, Your Majesty," you bowed a little as a gesture in gratitude, "but all I've done was work for my people. I hope I can live up to your expectations and do good by the people here in the Empire."

"Beautiful and humble!" The empress finally spoke. "I knew you would be the best choice!" You hid a grimace at her choice in words. You knew you specifically were chosen for your exploits in your homeland. "We saw records of the different foundations you did for peasants and the poor, helping children and the ill. Your efforts in increasing crop yield during harvesting season were impressive as well!"

"Thank you, Your Majesty. But the truth is, my efforts were not enough. My family and I are eternally grateful and in your debt for your assistance, and I will do my best to assist the Empire in any way I can." The empress smiled down at you. It felt unpleasant, having to bend so far for these people whom you hardly knew. You were determined to help your kingdom, but the price of your whole life and future really soured your whole efforts, making it feel a lot less like your honour-bound duty and more of a death sentence.

"Well then," the emperor looked over to his son, who made no movement to speak, "I believe that is enough pleasantries. We shall see you again tomorrow. I assume you are all tired from your travels. We have rooms ready for you and yours, Alfred will lead everyone to the right places and dinner will be served in your chambers. Tomorrow, we shall begin to dine together. Please, Princess, make yourself comfortable." After bowing and thanking the Imperial family once more, Alfred led you all out of the room. Before you turned, you managed to sneak one last glance at the prince. And as you made eye contact with him, it occured to you that you don't even know his name.

Once Alfred had the knights led to the barracks elsewhere, including Wesker much to your dismay, he deposited you in your own chambers. He'd apologised for the size—though it was ginormous—and promised you better habitations once you wed. As he left with your ladies-in-waiting, other maids came in, not giving you a second to breathe as they whisked you away to the bathing chambers of the room. They lathered you in expensive smelling soaps and oils, thoroughly massaging your body that was sore from sitting in a carriage for so long. And once they finally left, you were finally given time to relax. The chambers felt like the size of a large cabin. There were dressers that you didn't care to explore, sofas, coffee tables, a chess table, a large fireplace, a tea-preparation area, and even a terrace for your enjoyment. But all that mattered to you was that luxurious bed. Throwing yourself onto the bed, landing with a whump, made the new reality feel all the more damning. It was finally hitting you. You're in the Imperial palace. You've seen your future husband. And soon, you'll have to say goodbye to the knights, Clarisse, Abbie, and most important of all, Wesker. As your heavy eyes fluttered closed, all you could think about was how much you'd miss his warm embrace. Your journey north has ended, and yet it somehow feels like you've just embarked on an even more arduous one yet.

2024 sw33ts444© All rights reserved.

please don't rewrite, repost, translate, or submit my work to ai 💜

taglist: ask to join:)

[thousand-winters]

Hey pal, I hope you're doing well and that the weather is nice over there! 💖

For the ao3 writer wrapped 3, 6, 18, 20, and 29!

Hey there! Thank you 💕 The weather is so cold, haha, but I suppose good enough, I'm just more of a warm weather creature, ngl.

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

You'll only get halfway. It was a long shot that something like this would actually happen in the show haha, and ultimately I'm happy with how it ended but I still really love this concept and I think I did a nice job with it! Also terribly proud of the title, that one I was like "I know no one will ask, so I'm going to explain it anyway because otherwise I'll explode" ahahaha.

6. Favorite title you used.

Children of dust and ashes. I have a vision there, the name and lyrics of the song it comes from fit SO well for that fandom and the particular idea. It was connecting so nicely in my brain, sadly I don't think anyone in that fandom is interested and it bummed me out so it's just there now but oh, well.

That or Precious cargo, bleeding heart. Listen, listen, I have a vision there too, I always have a vision for my titles haha. Most of them come from songs too, so this one actually has another part that's not actually there because it didn't feel overall relevant. In my mind, and for the vibe of this fic in particular, it goes like: "precious cargo" is Darius, "bleeding heart" is Asphalia/his palisman, "paper tiger" is Eberwolf and "posioned dart" is the mentor. Thoughts were had when I picked that one.

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Alador freakin' Blight.

Part of the problem is probably that there are inconsistencies with him in the writing of the show itself but oh, how I struggled with him anyway haha. In the end I'm pleased with how he came out though I'm not 100% sure that I got him right. Good enough for all the blood and tears.

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I'm gonna assume posted, but the answer is different if we're talking wips.

I don't tend to reread my fics often, lowkey only if I share them with someone because I want to see them through their eyes as they could read it. But the one I've reread the most is probably The stars too, they tell of spring returning, mostly because it's a multichapter, so sometimes I need to check some details I included or I want to see if I'm keeping the same tone I started with.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I have the memory of a goldfish, but from what I can remember, I'm partial to this one:

But the Force won't listen. It didn't when his men turned their blasters on their own, it didn't when his student, his kid, was shot without mercy, it didn't when his people were massacred and the survivors forced to flee. This girl and him are reliques of a past era. They're all alone in a galaxy that wants them dead. Nobody is listening. Maybe he can still try.

Thanks for the ask, friend!!! 💖

From this ask game.

[userayne]

first and foremost, i would like to mention how excited i got when i saw this across my dash. quite literally i cannot remember the last time i was this emotionally invested in a story. your ability to lay out this story has me incredibly hooked.

okay, now i'm going to dive in about how much this chapter made me absolutely feral and insane  ━━━  

ngl, there's a part of me that lowkey loves asha and joel. idk, maybe my inability to emotionally attach to someone is why i gravitate towards her character but it seems like they are benefits without the friends. something for fun and sexual gratification so i’m interested to see if it follows that lead or blossoms into something different entirely.

You try to keep your shock to a minimum. Tommy’s gaze reminds you of the yellow gaze of a hawk, piecing, overly observant. You swallow and let out a laugh with a desperate need to lighten the heavy air circling you both. You shake your head, walking up to Tommy, you give him a gentle pat with the back of your hand.

babe, this joel simping closet is CLEAR. why does the shock need to be kept to a minimum? what’s bubbling beneath the surface, hm? i feel like tommy’s intuition is on alert. maybe he doesn’t know what’s going on but something feels off. she’s trying so hard not to let her jealousy show. poor tommy is over there stressing, my heart hurts for him.

“You didn’t have to come. You can go.”

bro, i wish you could hear my laugh. giggling, cackling. SHE IS SO MAD. I LOVE IT.

“Are you alright darlin’?” he asks with a hint of worry. He drags his fingers up your spine, a sudden heat coils in your stomach. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m happy to be here, you know that.” 

i swear to god, one small paragraph of just a small touch and i can feel their chemistry. maybe it’s just me and my little imagination, but the intensity is so well placed and written. more than likely the power of a slow burn, but w o w. of course, she’s moving away just as soon as he moves closer. please, they’re attraction towards each other is going to making me more mentally unstable than i already am.

the moment between her and sarah? i am nothing but a ball of fluff. i feel like this is definitely foreshadowing to a future dynamic. obviously, sarah is the biggest part of his life and the fact sarah is already reaching out to her and has established a relationship with sarah. god, i’m going to scream when her and joel actually get together.

“She asked for you,” he repeats again. “And I wouldn’t trust anyone else with a matter this sensitive.” 

the fact that joel trust her with his daughter is SO LOUD. so, so loud. i feel like this isn’t something joel does often if ever. it’s a part of life he keeps guarded, protect and the the fact he’s letting her in emotionally, not just with him but with sarah? UHHHHH. IT HURTS SO BEAUTIFULLY.

His hands are warm but his fingertips are cold. With an overwhelming need to touch, you smooth your thumb over the mountains of his knuckles, dipping between the valleys and climbing uphill. He seems to have the same need. You can see the turmoil in his eyes as he leans closer, lips an inch away, he holds your gaze. A moment worth painting, you think, the suspense, the aching need, to be forced apart. Unlike you, Joel doesn’t explore the depths of your skin, so you continue to do so for the both of you. 

i think you want me dead. because this shattered me. what makes it even more painful is knowing joel was the not the one to back down, she was. even though his relationship with tommy could be on the line, his feelings and connection over powers any sane choice he might hope to make for tommy’s sake.

sincerely, i’m violently traumatized at the fact she knows tommy is practically in love with her, and her and joel have it down bad for each other.

and her getting off to joel’s picture? snkswkkksksks. melted.

i’m so sorry for the brain dump. not really. but genuinely? i love this story with my entire heart. i cannot wait to see what happens next.

𝐎𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 5.6k

chapter summary: With Sarah at a sleepover, you, Joel and Tommy get together late to paint the now empty room, but with a distressing call from Sarah, Joel leaves to pick her up. You're just surprised as him when Sarah asks for you specifically. Later on, you accidentally see something that was meant for Asha's eyes only.

warnings: sarah gets her period for the first time so first-time period talk, nude photo (joel's), female masturbation (reader), feelings of loneliness (reader)

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

It’s been two weeks since Asha became a part of Joel’s life. They were more similar to what he initially had thought. For starters, neither of them talked about their families or upbringings. It was from Tommy that Joel learned that her parents still resided in India and that she came here alone, unsupported for the most part. 

Joel, however, didn’t really have much family to talk about even if he wanted to. He only had Tommy and Sarah. He mentioned them a total of two times; one because Sarah got sick at school and he had to go and get her, meaning he had to cancel his lunch with Asha. And the second was when he showed up late one night with a black eye due to Tommy getting under the skin of the wrong crowd. That night he had thought of going to you instead, but then decided against it. The next day he learned that you cleaned up Tommy’s wounds— it shouldn’t have made his heart twinge with jealousy, but it did.

They used each other, Joel and Asha, at least that was what he felt, and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They enjoyed each other's company, had fun together, slept together. She made him aware of things that he wasn’t even aware of and vice versa. Asha never had the desire to talk about the future or asked to come over. Her apartment was just fine, and they often met up there instead of anywhere else. She never asked about his personal life. 

But that all changed as Joel was driving her from work to her home. 

“Tommy talks a lot about this girl,” she muses, smiling lightly. “Your neighbor I think? He came and ask me for room decor tips, it was cute.” 

“That’s the one,” Joel answers, shifting in his seat. “I knew he wasn’t clever enough to think of all of that on his own.” 

“He did come up with the color himself, so it wasn’t all me.” 

“He’s been braggin’ a lot, it’s annoyin’” 

She presses a hand on his thigh, squeezing, she drags her fingers up the seam of his jeans. “Come on, Joel. He’s just happy. I think she’s good for him.” 

“They’re both good for each other.” he nods, ignoring her hand resting right below his pelvis. “I’m actually heading there after dropping you off, you wanna come? I’m sure she’ll appreciate more female company.” 

She laughs and pulls her hand back to her lap, “Just because we both have vaginas doesn’t mean we’ll get along,” Asha hums, pulling her bag up from between her legs. “However, I do think we would get along. Sadly, I have an assignment due and need to finish at least most of it before you come over.” 

“Ah that’s right,” he pouts, annoyed at himself. “Sorry I forgot.” 

“It’s okay, I forget half the things you do.” 

“Is that normal for couples?”

She mulls over his question for a while, lips moving from side to side, a tick that she did whenever she was cooking up something clever. Then she stills, a wide smile spreading across her face. 

“I think for us it is.” 

Joel couldn't agree more, to be honest. He taps his thumbs against the steering wheel, pulling into her drive-thru. She quickly presses her lips into his cheekbone and he returns in like. Before she leaves, Asha’s hand stills at the handle, briefly turning to him. 

“By the way did you do that thing I asked you?” 

“Fuck,” he heaves out, letting his head drop. “I did, but I forgot it at home. I’ll bring it later tonight, promise.” 

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath, Joel Miller,” she grins. “Who’s looking after Sarah?” 

“She’s staying at her friends' tonight. Girls' night. She forced me to bake brownies.” 

“Never pinned you down for a chef.” 

“I’m not. We burned the first tray.” 

You're feeling unreasonably happy. It’s a welcomed feeling, a soft tingle that starts from your toes, blossoms across your skin, and ends at your lips, forming a sheepish smile. You’re leaning against the doorframe looking at the now-empty room. You and Tommy had spread newspaper all over the floor, both of you wearing your scrappiest of clothes. 

Tommy opens a can of paint and starts mixing it with a wooden stick. 

“What are you doing that for?” 

Tommy turns to you, a grin on his face. "Well sweetheart, we can't just slap this paint on the walls. We need to mix it thoroughly to get the perfect consistency. This ain’t like one of your paintings."

You tilt your head, your eyebrow raising, an amused smile blossoms over your lips. "First of all, we do need consistency too. And what's the perfect consistency to paint a wall? It’s a wall, shouldn’t be that hard."

Tommy dips the wooden stick into the can and lifts it out, letting the excess paint drip back into the can. "It should be smooth and creamy, not too thick and not too thin. You don't want it to be runny, or it will drip all over the place, but if it's too thick, it won't spread evenly."

He starts stirring the paint in a circular motion, his wrist moving in a steady rhythm. The sound of the stick scraping against the bottom of the can fills the room, creating a soothing hum.

"As you mix the paint," he continues, "you should periodically lift the stick out of the can and let the paint drip back in. That way, you can see if it's the right consistency. If it's too thick, you can add a bit of water to thin it out, and if it's too thin, you can add a bit more paint."

You nod, taking mental notes. "Got it. Smooth and creamy.” 

Tommy grins. "Exactly, creamy is preferable. It responds better."

Your cheeks heat up at the response. Something about the way he rolls his tongue over the words make goosebumps rise on your skin, a tender shiver coursing through your body. With a soft shudder, you wrap your arms around yourself. 

“When do you think Joel is coming over?” 

“Don’t know. I think he’s with Asha.” 

“Asha,” you repeat, no emotion behind the words but still, you feel the corner of your lips quivering. “Do they get along well?” 

Tommy shrugs and slowly gets up, “I guess. Joel isn’t really the type to kiss and tell you know? And Asha…well, I guess it’s safe to say she’s pretty much the same.” 

“Basically perfect for each other.” 

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t go that far,” Tommy answers, scratching the back of his head. “Being so similar ain’t always a good thing.” 

Silence follows and you can vaguely hear a car pulling in next door, must be Joel. Thoughts wildly swirling in your head, you want to take this opportunity to ask about Sarah’s mother, something Joel never talks about, and also something Sarah never mentiones. You lick your lips, nails digging into your forearms. 

“Does it bother you?” 

The question takes you by surprise, you blink before answering. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Does it bother you that he’s with someone?” 

You try to keep your shock to a minimum. Tommy’s gaze reminds you of the yellow gaze of a hawk, piecing, overly observant. You swallow and let out a laugh with a desperate need to lighten the heavy air circling you both. You shake your head, walking up to Tommy, you give him a gentle pat with the back of your hand. 

“Why would that bother me? I’m just making conversation.” 

Tommy’s shoulders relax, dropping substantially. You’re surprised you hadn’t noticed how tense he was before. 

“Sorry, I was just thinkin’ too much.” 

Before you can answer a loud knock startles you both. “Must be Joel. 

“You go, I’ll open the rest of the cans.” 

Joel looks out of breath when you open the door for him, his chest heaves and he staggers forward, bracing himself by holding both knees. 

“Didn’t mean to be late,” he says. “But I brought whiskey.” 

“Is that why you went to your place first?” 

He closes the door behind him, “You heard that?” 

“Saw the lights.” 

You notice a magazine in his hands but fail to see the title, it’s rolled up. In the other he has the bottle and you take it from him, heading to the kitchen, he follows. 

“I also had to pick up somethin’ I promised Asha. I’m meetin’ up with her after this.” 

Your chest tightens and you roll your shoulders to ground yourself before reaching to get three glasses. “Isn’t that going to be late?” 

“I ain’t five.” he answers with a low chuckle. “But yeah it’s late but she has work to do and I promised you lot I’d be here.” 

“You didn’t have to come. You can go.” 

You wince at your own wording. It definitely came out harsh, no question about it. Taking a deep inhale, you feel the coolnes of the kitchen counter under your fingers, holding on to it. Joel’s presence looms near, his hand touching the small of your back. He’s not holding the magazine anymore. 

“Are you alright darlin’?” he asks with a hint of worry. He drags his fingers up your spine, a sudden heat coils in your stomach. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m happy to be here, you know that.” 

“I do, sorry,” you mutter, fingers grasping two glasses before pulling away. “Tommy’s in the room, making the paint all creamy and stuff.” 

“He’s doing what now?” 

When you look at him all the happiness from before comes surging back, he has the most horrified, flabbergasted expression you’ve ever seen. The first hints of laughter come out in short bubbles, and as Joel continues to stare, you burst, loud, chest-rattling sounds of joy clawing out of your lungs. His shocked expression shifts into a happy one, a grin playing at the side of his lips. 

“I keep tellin’ him to stop sayin’ that,” he clicks his tongue. “I keep tellin’ him ‘saying smooth is enough’ he never listens.” 

“It did make me laugh a lot though, so maybe it’s not so bad that he says that.” 

“If it made you laugh it definitely ain’t a bad thing,” he answers, taking the bottle and heading toward the room. “I love hearin’ you laugh.” 

You force your legs to move despite wanting to stop and stare behind him as he disappears through the hall. First the kiss on the cheek, and now this. Blood pools under your fingernails, confusion makes your head spin—but you still continue to walk. The thoughts that began to form quickly disappear when you enter the room, you see Joel leaning over Tommy. 

“Why do you still use the word creamy?” he asks, hands in the air. “Why?” 

“It’s a fun word,” Tommy answers, eyes finding yours mid sentence and winks. 

Your mind races but you smile anyway. Tommy’s bizarre question from earlier must’ve riled me up, you think, stepping inside. There’s no logical reason why Joel dating Asha would bother you, he doesn’t belong to you, hell, you’re not even that close. You’re just acting up because him and Tommy are the first friends you made when you moved here. Just some friendly overprotectiveness, that’s all, you would act the same if Tommy was dating someone. 

You nod as a response to your thoughts, yes, you definitely would act the same. 

“Are you possessed or somethin’ what’s going on with you?” 

You flinch at the question and turn to Tommy, he has that familiar lopsided smile, eyes amused. 

“I’m good, I was just thinking of something.” 

You don’t miss the way Joel looks at you, worry crossing his face, but you act as if you didn’t see him. Taking a deep breath, you slap your hands together. 

“So, where do we start?”

The room heavily smells of paint. Toxicity is slowly inhaled through your nostrils, burns your throat, and swirls in your lungs. You feel slightly queasy. Joel is sitting across from you with his legs outstretched and hands palms pressed into the newspaper-covered floors to keep himself upright. Tommy has his legs crossed, he leans forward to grab a piece of chocolate. And you. You have his jacket thrown above your shoulders, the night chill settling easier now that the room is empty and the walls wet with paint. 

While Tommy leans to grab the piece, his shirt rolls up his waist, you notice a tiny, crooked bullseye tattoo with two circles and a dot. Fascinated by this new discovery, you poke it, and, essentially, him. He flinches, giving you an almost offended look as he turns around. 

“The hell are you doin’?” he covers the patch of skin with his hand. 

“You have a tattoo.” 

It’s a statement. Joel gives you two a crooked grin as he takes a sip from his glass. Tommy raises an eyebrow, a small dimple forming on his right cheek as he smiles. 

“So? Just because I have a tat doesn’t mean you can poke me.” 

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you had one.” your lips crack a smile. “It’s cute.” 

You notice the soft flush coloring his cheeks, but you swiftly ignore it when Joel speaks, his voice low and scratchy from the late hour— and from inhaling the paint, probably. 

“Tommy had the bright idea to be a tattooist when we were in high school. He begged for a kit every year for his birthday, and one year I actually managed to get together a bit of cash to buy him one of them shit stick and poke sets.” 

“Awww, that’s adorable,” you grin, playfully shoving your shoulder into Tommy’s. The younger Miller shook his head, averting his eyes from his brother. “I’m assuming you got a tattoo too, right Joel?” 

“No.” 

Tommy scoffs at the sudden denial, he accusatorily points the piece of chocolate at his brother, then shoves it into his mouth, “Come on now, don’t be shy. Show off my masterpiece.” 

“Some masterpiece,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “But fine.” 

You’re too stunned to actually notice the small patch of inked skin when he lifts his shirt, your mouth dry as sandpaper. He also has a crooked bullseye, a bit darker in shade compared to Tommy’s. The shape is right above his ribs, to the side of his torso. Some part of you wants to touch it as well, to follow the round pattern with the tips of your fingers but you fight the urge. 

“Cool,” you say unintelligently and he releases the shirt, covering his skin once more. You turn your head to Tommy. “Why did you stop?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I kind of just did.” 

“Could be because you decided to dive head first into a war.” Joel says, with a fresh sounding bitterness. 

Tommy’s shoulders raise, his brown eyes a shade darker with the glare pointed directly at his brother. Family is never easy, no matter how close or loving. You know that Tommy is riddled with regret much like your own brother, though at least Tommy had the sense to get out before falling in completely. You place a hand on Tommy’s thigh and squeeze, your heart breaking instantly at the way his eyes soften when he looks at you. 

“If you decide to ever get back into it, I’d be happy to draw you up some designs.” 

“If that means you’re gonna get back into drawin’ again sure, I’ll get back into tattooing. I just need to find that old set.” 

“You’re not using me to experiment again,” Joel grins. “Just sayin’” 

Getting back into drawing. Seriously how long has it been? Has it been long enough that it was even obvious to Tommy and Joel? You had done a couple of sketches, not really anything riveting. The end product always resembled either a dark hole or a dark room of some kind. It was like a manifestation of your thoughts, complicated, scratchy, overlapping. A sea of gruesome lines. 

For you, painting has always been about expressing yourself in ways you couldn’t imagine. It could be a purple cat staring into a well. A city in ruins standing at the edge of a leaf. Sometimes it could be as simple as a girl in a hallway, threading upon a red carpet. Right now is a perfect time to express yourself. The pain, the void. But you can’t bring yourself to lift a brush or a pen. It’s too much. No image is clear enough for you to put on a canvas. Despite how complicated it looks, you feel that in the end art should be simple to make. Your hand should move in fluid motions, it shouldn’t be a struggle against waves of fear. 

“Hey,” Tommy touches your cheek, for some reason, you lean into the touch and the same fingers slide to the back of your head, giving your scalp a pleasant scratch. “Are you good?” 

“I was just thinking,” you answer, eyes momentarily finding Joel. He looks stiff as a rock. “I miss painting.” 

“Then paint,” Joel says. “What’s stopping you?” 

“Myself. I didn’t have this problem before but now I feel stuck. Everything comes to me all at once and all that combined results in an empty canvas.” 

“What if we gave you something to draw?” he asks, earning a confused look from both Tommy and yourself. He smooths his thumb over the corner of his lip. “Like, a single thing. Maybe it can ease you in.” 

“Did you have a suggestion?” 

“A butterfly.” 

Your eyes widen at the prospect of it; a creature with beautiful wings, something that could be any shape or size. A tiny thing that was an embodiment of elegance in most cultures. A god in some. You can imagine patterns above fluttering wings; orange, purple, pink. You’re reminded of fairies dancing and leaving behind fairy rings, you see a blue butterfly flying above into a blue sky that is paler in comparison. 

“A butterfly,” you repeat, your lips feeling numb. Only then do you notice that Tommy’s fingers hand slid to your neck, cupping it gently. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Sarah loves butterflies,” he remarks as if reminiscing a pleasant memory. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you make of them.” 

And just like that, a sharp melody cuts through the conversation. Joel looks down at his phone, eyebrows raising with slight surprise and worry. His eyes snap to you both. 

“Speak of the devil,” he says, getting up. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears, leaving you and Tommy alone. Sleep starting to make its way through the cracks of your reserve, you allow yourself to lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand gently glides down from your neck to the small of your back, a comforting touch. 

“Do you like the color?” he whispers. 

You stare up at the ceiling, a soft light lavender gives the room a dream-like state. Your eyes shift back to him, a soft smile tugs at your lips. 

“I do,” you hum. “But I think we should paint one of the walls a nice blue.” 

“Blue?” he asks. “Why blue?” 

“It reminds me of butterflies.” 

You stare blankly at the white door in front of you. Both you and Tommy were taken aback when Joel asked you to come over after he brough Sarah back home. She refused to talk about it. And She asked for you specifically, Joel managed to learn what the issue was then. She’d gotten her period for the first time. 

Which is why you have a pack of pads, painkillers and the last pieces of chocolate. 

To be completely honest, you’re nervous as hell. It’s ridiculous really, considering Sarah is only fourteen years old. But alas, here you are, staring at the door with light filtering through the bottom gap. You’d told Joel to wait downstairs, and Tommy had offered to tidy up the room and throw out the newspapers. Right now, you’re regretting your decision of making Joel wait downstairs. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you knock on the door twice. A weak sound barely reaches your ears. 

“Come in.” 

Sarah’s laying on the bed, curled up into a ball with her back turned to the door. Your throat tightens a bit. You don’t quite remember what your first period was like, but you know it must’ve been rough. It’s not easy to go to the bathroom and suddenly see blood stains all over your underwear. Briefly, you wonder if Joel ever talked to her about it. Did it come as a shock? They teach what periods are in school right? 

Tentative, you make your way to the bed and gently sit at the foot of the bed. You notice her wincing a little. 

“Are you alright?” 

“‘T hurts.” 

“I brought you painkillers,” you inform. “also a bit of chocolate.” 

“I don’t want chocolate.” 

“Tell me what you need then.” 

“It was so humiliating,” she snaps, stretching her legs a bit but still refusing to look at you. “Everyone was there, well the girls, and I didn’t even notice it first. Sally did.” 

You don’t know what entices you to do it, but you place a hand over her ankle. She clams down for a moment, takes a deep breath. She shudders. 

“It was awful,” she chokes up. “They didn’t laugh or anything and it makes me even more upset that my first reaction was to call my dad.” 

“That’s normal,” you answer, rubbing soothing circles into her clothed skin. “These things are difficult, your hormones are all over the place—” 

“Gross.” 

You can’t help but chuckle at that, “Yeah it’s pretty gross. I’m just trying to say that it’s normal to call your dad and I’m sure your friends will understand.” 

“You’re too optimistic.” 

“Am I?” you tease. “First time I’ve heard of it.” 

Sarah sits up and pulls her knees close to her chest. She seems calmer now, more level-headed like her usual self. She holds your gaze, you could almost see a reflection of yourself in them. She’d been crying. Joel’s heart must’ve shattered into a million pieces. 

“Is it always going to hurt this bad?” 

“Kinda, yeah. I’m not going to try and bullshit you by saying it’s a beautiful thing. It’s not. But,” you offer her the last bit of chocolate, and she takes it with a small smile before plopping it on her tongue. “You’ll learn how to navigate it better. Just know that whatever you’re feeling, no matter the age, is always okay.” 

“So I can still call my dad when I’m like…Fifty?” 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to pick you up wherever you are.” 

She snorts, “If he’s alive.” 

“That man has the stubbornness of a mule. He’ll come back as a zombie if he has to.” 

“That would actually be kinda cool.” 

You smile as she thinks about it, her eyes looking up to the ceiling. Meanwhile, you take a peek at her clock, 2 AM. Time sure does fly. 

“You should take a shower,” you say, turning back to Sarah. “And here, I brought you some pads. Do you want me to show you how to use it?” 

She shakes her head, “I’m good. Thanks by the way…I…appreciate it.”

“I’m here whenever you need me. I’m only a knock away.” 

“Isn’t that supposed to be a phone call away?” 

“I don’t think that fits the whole neighbor theme.” 

Before you leave, you notice a butterfly hanging from her window. A small smile touches your lips. 

It’s blue. 

“Is she okay?” 

You’re not at all surprised when you see Joel with his head between his hands, elbows painfully digging into the kitchen counter. The circles under his eyes seem a shade darker, the white of his eyes stained with red. 

“She’s alright don’t worry. She going to take a shower now, and use the pads I gave her. I also brought her painkillers that she might want to take before bed,” you had unknowingly brought the box down with you. You place it in front of Joel, his gaze drops. His lips move slightly as he silently reads the brand. “There isn’t much in there you should buy another one tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” he answers, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll buy you a box too.” 

“No need, you’ve already done a lot for me. Helping your daughter navigate the wonders of womanhood is the least I could do.” you answer with a heaping amount of sarcasm in your tone. 

“I’d be lost without you, neighbor.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you grin and rest your hands on top of the counter as well. “You could’ve asked Asha to talk to her if I wasn’t around.” 

His face falls, a sudden chill settling around you both. He shakes his head, the crease between his brows deep. “She specifically asked for you. Besides the thing with Asha—” 

His words come to a sudden halt as if he doesn’t know how to describe the situation. Tommy had said that they were similar in character, you wonder if Asha is better at expressing her thoughts, you can’t imagine two people having the same struggle being together. 

Joel suddenly takes your hands into his own, eliciting a soft gasp from the back of your throat. 

“She asked for you,” he repeats again. “And I wouldn’t trust anyone else with a matter this sensitive.” 

His hands are warm but his fingertips are cold. With an overwhelming need to touch, you smooth your thumb over the mountains of his knuckles, dipping between the valleys and climbing uphill. He seems to have the same need. You can see the turmoil in his eyes as he leans closer, lips an inch away, he holds your gaze. A moment worth painting, you think, the suspense, the aching need, to be forced apart. Unlike you, Joel doesn’t explore the depths of your skin, so you continue to do so for the both of you. 

Your breath is lodged in your throat, a lump. You turn over his hand, tracing the lifelines and vanished marks of his skin. His pulse is fast under the pads of your fingers, the vein like a river overflowing across his forearm. You stop at the wrist, only your eyes allowed to continue the journey. 

Staring at his skin, visions of what Sarah’s mother must’ve looked like flash before your eyes. You wonder if she saw the same things that you did, you wonder what possessed her to leave all this behind—the scarred skin, the soft voice, the dark brown eyes, the daughter, the home, the life. 

Then you’re abundantly made aware of another’s presence when your eyes follow the slope of his right shoulder and see a darkened mark on his neck. Asha has been with him more intimately, you wonder what she sees when she looks at him. Is it the same as you? Does she see the sadness lurking under his skin? The worry of never being able to be enough for those around him? Does she understand what he feels? 

Do you? 

“I should go,” you exclaim, pulling away your hands like they’ve been burned. “Let me know if she needs anything else.” 

You’re halfway to the door when you feel his fingers circling your wrist, not enough to physically hold you but enough to make his presence known. You hear the words spilling from his lips ‘wait’ he says, ‘let me walk you over’ but it’s too late, you’re out the door, throwing yourself into the chill of the night. 

It’s too much, it’s too sudden, it’s too bizarre. 

Your fingertips are still tingling with the sensation of his skin underneath yours, the soft hairs, the tiny bumps littered over. It reminds you of the smooth feeling of oil over canvas, all you want to do is press your palms and spread your fingers, touching him, you want to feel everything. 

Tommy’s waiting on the porch, he gives you a look. “Is Sarah alright?” 

“She’s fine,” you say, a bit breathless. “She’s…yeah she’s going to be fine.” 

“Good,” he nods. “Anyway I should head back home, I cleared up the newspapers and I’ll come back for the cans tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” 

His mind seems to be whirring because he doesn’t notice how slowly you’re speaking, he doesn’t notice the frantic beating of your heart. Tommy nods to himself, and leans in, you feel the brush of his lips against your ear. 

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

His lips are on your cheek, soft and wet. He smells of cigarettes and paint, but something sweet lingers below the surface. Your heart drops, your stomach churns. The feeling disappears as quickly as it came. Before you can say anything, he’s already at the end of the three steps you have. 

“Goodnight,” Tommy calls out. 

You watch like a deer in headlights as the car moves away, the red light slowly disappearing into the distance. You touch where he had kissed. It wasn’t the first time, but it feels different. It reminds you of when Joel kissed you, a similar feeling. The only difference is that instead of stopping time, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

Then you realize. 

Tommy has feelings for you. 

You clearly have feelings for Joel. 

And you think Joel might have feelings for you too. 

Your fingers twitch, butterflies flutter wildly both in your stomach and in your head. 

You head inside. 

You trudge into the bedroom, the scent of wet paint clinging to your skin like a suffocating blanket. You had brough along with you the magazine Joel had left on the coffee table. Sitting on the bed, you flip through the pages, but the content is dull, littered with construction jargon that is foreign to you. 

Just as you're about to give up on the magazine, a photograph falls out from between the pages, landing on your lap. A photograph, you deduce, picking it up from your lap. It feels fresh, glossy, and slightly uncomfortable to the touch. You gaze at the image, and it takes a moment for your brain to register what you're seeing.

Every ounce of blood is drained from your face, all that heat pooling between your legs. your eyes go wide. 

It’s Joel. 

Half of his face is out of frame and he’s shirtless but you recognize him. Saliva floods your mouth. It’s not a very neatly taken picture, probably time adjusted so he could pose, which explains the slight blur of the background. His jeans hang low on his hips, unbuttoned, and his fingers disappear beneath the waistband, hinting at what lies beneath.

You trace the way his muscles are firm under his skin, the softness of his stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down to his navel. 

The faint sight of the bullseye tattoo on his ribs solidifies to you that this is indeed Joel. You’re lightheaded. When he said he stopped by home to pick up something for Asha you hadn’t realized that this would be it, a suggestive, nearly nude, photo. Now you just feel stupid for assuming he could be into you, clearly, he and Asha are both comfortable with each other enough for stuff like this. 

You continue to stare, the blood rush loud in your ears. You memorize every curve, every little detail of his body. The small scars littered across his chest, the unsure hint of a smile that’s mostly hidden, the pebbled nipples due to the cool air of the room. You want to see what lies under his pants, you want to see the rest of him and engrave that into memory. You want his body to burn yours, make you into something beautiful—make you into art. 

You sneak your hand between your legs, one hand still propping the photo up. You never actually masturbated to a picture before, mostly videos or just your own imagination. There’s something…interesting about it. Your imagination is more vivid somehow as you look at the picture, you can almost feel the warmth of his body blanketing yours, those thick fingers circling your clit and slipping inside. 

A soft moan breaks from your lips. You feel blood heating your cheeks, your skin incredibly warm and head dizzy from staring at him. You imagine having him in your mouth, your tongue teasing that sensitive spot right under the head of his cock. You think of the sounds he’d make, how guttural they would be. 

You arch your back as you imagine his thick cock pressing into you, he pulls you closer to him. His hips move in a circular motion, pushing deeper and deeper into you as you moan in pleasure. His hands grasp your hips and he pulls you closer.

Your eyes flutter open as you imagine his lips on yours, tasting the sweat that is dripping from your skin. He flicks his tongue, exploring your mouth and sending sparks throughout your body. His hands move up your back, slowly tracing your spine until he reaches your shoulders. You feel his hands slide up around your neck as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your breath hitches as you feel the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You reach your hands around his back, pulling him even closer as his hips continue to move against yours. Your pleasure builds, and soon you let out a loud moan as you feel yourself cresting over the edge.

You imagine yourself collapsing against him, panting softly as the pleasure slowly ebbs away from your body. You feel the imaginary warmth of his embrace still surrounding you. It’s painful almost. Feeling him when he’s not here. Your heart hurts, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. You take a sharp inhale, shaking your head. 

Tears blur your vision as you place the photo back between the pages of the magazine. 

[sparxwrites]

Omg i read your percy stuffing/burping fic

i was curious if you would ever write something like that for Vax one day or just a little blurb your writing is so fucking good🫶🏽💞💞

thank you so much!!! i'm super flattered, and it's nice to hear someone enjoyed sth that's kinda niche... i am rlly fond of that fic and alas don't get a lot of feedback on it bc it's a less common kink, so it warmed my cold dead heart to get this ask.

unforch i'm not rlly in the critrole fandom any more, and also uhhhh. ngl i have written sweet fuck all for months now because my muses have abandoned me i guess. so probably no fic.

i also, fsr, always associate vax w hiccups rather than burps. like he just seems like such a skinny little twig of a thing.... but i suppose maybe a little too much ale, or a bit too much food / something that didn't sit well in his stomach, and he's slouched in his chair all bird-bones and a little bloated belly and trying to discretely muffle things behind his hand all pink-cheeked and unhappy-tummied.... cute.

[yautjalover]

Heyo!

I love your writing so much!!!!! I’ve been having a rough time lately and have a self indulgent ask if that’s okay:3

It’s also two asks, so I get it if that’s too much.

Ask 1:

Y/n being more animalistic then most humans (aka long sharp nails, good sense of smell and direction, makes weird noises randomly, that kind of stuff) and how they’re future mate would react to that. Like-

“hmm, this one’s weird….. ITS BITING ME WTF DO I DO???? HUMANS DONT BITE????” Obviously could reck y/n if he wanted easily, but just the shock of such a different behavior to what they’re used too

Ask 2:

Y/n getting kidnapped by the yautja and not knowing they can understand them…

Aka “yo you kinda hot tho ngl,” *giggles* “here me out- now here me out-“

“The little ooman seems to desire me?”

and then just *y/n’s realization and confused screaming*

I hope that wasn’t to much to ask for! If so no pressure <3

I’m so glad you like my writing! It’s nice to hear people liking it! Honestly, it warms my cold, dead heart when people say they love my work. It gives me the energy to keep up my passion for writing! 🥹

Now, for the asks…I have time for one but I can get back to you with the other one when I can. That one I already have something in the works related to it. Sorry if it’s disappointing, but I was inspired by the kid who was raised by wolves in the 1900’s and some good ole sci-fi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(SFW)

Feral Reader x Male Yautja

• You’re not the human that the Yautja is used to seeing, but he doesn’t mind.

• He’s fascinated by your heightened sense of smell and hearing; it’s much greater than other humans. Humans typically didn’t have stellar hearing nor smell.

• You were a failed science experiment left to die in the woods from a young age where you were raised by wolves. Your keen senses allowed you to survive alongside your adoptive pack.

• When you first encountered your Yautja mate, you tried to attack him with teeth and sharp nails, something that surprised him. He was so perplexed that he let your attack go without killing you.

• From there he took you with him, much to the disappointment of your pack. After some heartfelt goodbyes, you went on a grand adventure in space with your alien companion.

• His smell was unlike any you had ever encountered. He didn’t react in pain when you bit him, but seemed to enjoy your animalistic behavior, enjoying the challenge of taming you.

• Eventually he came to the conclusion that he was head over heels for your feral self and claimed you as his mate, both of you letting loose your animal savagery in this carnal dance.

• Together you work to hone your fighting skills, your Yautja training you in the art of the Hunt.

• You are his feral human and fights anyone who touches your mate. They don’t expect the hissing and the snarls come from you when someone messes with what is yours. Your mate. No one else can touch or bite him. Only you.

[dabi-drift]

Villains’ S/O on Her Period - Incomplete:

If you want any characters adding here or to anything else I write, just drop me a comment or an ask!

Atsuhiro Sako/Mr Compress:

❀ You never let yourself show emotion, while at the mercy of the League. They'd taken you as collateral about four months ago, and every incident had been avoided (probably the stress).

❀ Until now.

❀ Compress couldn’t wrap his head around your sudden mood swings - the way you transitioned from cold and brooding to crying out an ocean, to the most affectionate girl on the planet. He couldn’t deny that the latter made him feel incredibly special, but at first he'd figured maybe it was an effort to feign loyalty or subservience, a ploy to lower his guard.

❀ Well, clearly it was something more serious.

❀ In the end, he consulted Toga. It must've been a girl thing, like an early onset of the menopause or something.

❀ When she reminded him that periods existed, his soul left his body. He hadn't even considered that. He wasn’t grossed out or anything - just concerned. He didn’t wanna directly ask you what you needed, so he just had Toga steal a bunch of sanitary products (watching him fret over you was way too funny, so she didn’t bother mentioning that she'd already got the stuff).

❀ Ngl, when Compress remembered why periods were a thing, he did get a little embarrassed. It was like his mind wouldn’t let him forget that you were indeed an adult woman, who could conceive (his children).

❀ The thoughts entered whenever he was alone, or close to the room in which you were being held. Simply walking past it was enough to add colour to his cheeks, and he didn’t have any clue how to handle that.

❀ Your rooms weren't too far apart.

❀ He hoped no-one could hear him through the walls.

❀ He'd taken a fancy to you since the beginning, make no mistake. And he definitely wouldn’t act on anything…unless you happened to insinuate that his feelings were reciprocated.

❀ Not that you ever would, being both a hostage and hostile toward emotions. Well, it didn’t stop the dreams.

❀ Toga would eventually tell you about Compress' concern, and after a few days, he assumed the role of tampon thief. This gave Toga a break and him an opportunity to grow closer to you, and to help you in your hour of need.

❀ This man will 100% be upset when it's over. You were vulnerable for once, leaning on him for support when the cramps kicked in, feasting on the chocolate he stole, as his loving gaze swept over you. He won't show this sadness though. He'll mask it under relief, being all 'Thank goodness you no longer have to suffer through that, my dear.'

❀ You'll feel so humiliated. But that won't last. Compress saw you at a very bad point - saw, helped…stayed. You won't fully trust him, but you let him a little closer.  

❀ He'll be absolutely over-the-moon.

❀ And if you ever give him your heart, make sure to treasure him, 'cause he's gonna spoil you rotten.

Touya Todoroki/Dabi:

❀ Dabi's gonna know you're in pain, but it'll take a lot of convincing and possibly bribing for him to help. He's likely to view it as a chore, no matter how much he loves you. It's one of those disgusting things you can deal with alone. Why would you need the aid of someone who neither understands nor empathises?

❀ Let's be real, this man knows nothing about periods. Although, it wouldn’t actually make a difference if he did.

❀ If you become more sensitive to the cold, he'll definitely warm you up, but that's a privilege he'll make you earn. He's rather hard-hearted, so cuddles are especially difficult to come by. He won't dish them out, free of charge.

❀ Not until you're together for a few years, at least. After this substantial time, he'll begin to grow more comfortable with you (that was a trial period). You'll see a gradual change in his attitude, toward both physical contact and your…monthly cycle.

❀ Still won't be seen dead in the sanitary section of a shop, though. Can and will make you buy your own stuff (with Endeavor's money).

❀ How does he keep getting that

❀ Seriously, you gotta stop him.

❀ Will let you use his hand as a makeshift hot water bottle. He looks annoyed, but don't fall for the deception. Just smile and rest your head on his shoulder. He'll melt in an instant.

❀ He's eternally thankful for your lack of mood swings. If he's being honest with himself, he'd probably just up and leave if that posed an issue. He loved you, sure, but he also loved putting as little effort into things as humanly possible.

❀ Sometimes he wishes you were a guy

❀ Will tease you mercilessly if he catches even a glimpse of a pad or a tampon. Because he's a total dick, he'll often hold or throw them out of your reach, or force you to search for them. If you don't kick him in the nuts, he'll give you their location on his deathbed.

❀ Chop them off

❀ It's 50% comfort, 50% dread. For both parties.

Geten/Iceman:

❀ Confused, panicked, a little irritated. Will not know what to do when he finds you clutching your abdomen, crying for the gods to take away your uterus. But in the next second, you're so angry?? It's like, just pick an emotion? Why do you have to be so difficult?

❀ Throw a pillow at his face and he might ask you what's wrong

❀ So much of your hostility is directed towards him, he'll think you've fallen out of love. You'll have to explain what you're dealing with, the symptoms and the unfortunate fact that chocolate is the only cure. He thinks you're being pathetic

❀ "You don't need any chocolate. You said you feel bloated."

❀ "Getennn!! You're my boyfriend, not my dietician!"

❀ He'll probably expect you to bear this burden alone. What does it have to do with him? It's gross and he wants no part of it. Completely unwilling to buy sanitary products. He draws the line at chocolate. Use your puppy dog eyes and cry at him for a while (and maybe beg, too). That might work.

❀ Hates it when you hide under layer upon layer of bedsheets, then complain about being too warm. Secretly loves it, since you need him as close as possible to counteract the heat

❀ He'll fall asleep beside you, blotting out all memory of the talk you just had, and wake up in a panic when he sees you bleeding. He should've got you them pads

❀ Shakes you awake. "(Y/n)?? Are you still alive?!"

❀ And now you're panicked, and also crying. "I don't know??"

❀ "What do you mean you don't know??"

❀ Your headaches are vicious - like a thousand ice picks simultaneously raining down on you. Thankfully, your ever-so caring boyfriend is comfortable enough to buy painkillers. He'll also toy with the idea of buying pads or tampons, but the aisle that houses them is always overrun.

❀ Your little ice gremlin can't handle that level of humiliation. But if you really can't make it to the shop, he'll seek out Curious to go for you. Despite his drawn-out sighs and his complaints, he doesn't want you to suffer.

❀ He's relieved when your period ends. Until you remind him that you're due one every month. For now though, it feels like a weight has been lifted. Because it was so much worse for him

❀ He's shocked by the disparity between your personality on and off your period. In the days following the end of your cycle, you give him lots of kisses and snuggles, to atone for your prior behaviour. He adores this.

❀ He'll try to do better for you, to help you more in your time of need. You're always so good to him. He should be good to you, too.

❀ But if he finds bloodstains on your underwear, he's gonna have trauma flashbacks, so I hope you can handle the guilt.

[kuroos-moon]

『The Pretty Third Year』

pairing: Oikawa Toru x Reader

anon request: can i pls hav a scenario where oikawa was practicing his serves and the f!reader was hit by the ball and when he came to her she saw his face and was like: “..god?” or smth like that skdhsj

a/n: ngl kinda got carried away with this one

wc: 1.1k

genre: just some fluff and hinting of future romance bc oikawa’s smitten lmao

warning/s: none

You had no care for the world at all as you stroll towards the almost empty volleyball gym, skeptical about your decision to give being their manager a go. 

“You won’t regret it, you’ll see, I bet you’ll get along with our captain,” Kindaichi grins. 

“Hm, now that you say it, Oikawa-san and y/n would click, childish minds and all that shit,” Kunimi nods, “up to you though,” followed by a shrug. 

Well, their words can’t have come from nowhere, even Kunimi agrees that you’ll love managing the team, and gaining a few more friends isn’t bad either. Poking your head through the doorway, you scan the place, immediately intimidated by the frowning third year by the benches. 

In an instant you hide outside, telling yourself that you could maybe make friends elsewhere and that being their volleyball team manager just ain’t for you. Right, you smile to yourself, relieved that you didn’t have to face any scary scowling third years. 

“Oy y/n I saw you, just come in!” You kinda want to punch an onion-head right now, but you keep it cool and stop moving, hoping the silence would be enough sign for him to leave you alone. 

“Maybe you’re imagining things.” Listen to Kunimi, please.

“Y/n just come in!” 

“Fine,” you grumble to yourself, legs begrudgingly carrying you towards the door. The last thing you see is Kindaichi’s horrified expression before you’re knocked to the ground.

For more than a few seconds, everything’s shifting and you couldn’t comprehend what was happening around you, your head hurt and you were beyond dizzy. Just when you’re about to fall to your side— your head no doubt bound to make contact with the wooden floor, a hand supports your head from behind while your back rested on something firm, warm and moist with sweat. 

Oh, it’s someone’s thigh. 

Your vision’s all blurry with your head pounding too much for you to understand the string of apologies and “are you okay’s” from Oikawa, who guiltily so— was the one to hit you with his infamous nasty serve. 

“Iwa-chan is she dead? Oh my god I can’t kill someone!” 

“Y/n are you alright?”

“Back off, give her some space, but seriously are you okay? Can I take you to the hospital?” Toru couldn’t hide the worry and panic in his voice as he looked back at your squinted eyes, his calf starting to ache from having to support you with his thigh but he couldn’t care less, no. 

Finally, you could see quite better, though you still had to squint your eyes as you looked up at the the third year who held you, the light a tad bit too bright behind his head. 

“It’s too bright,” you groan in pain, and you feel his hand brushing strands of hair off your face. “Is it now?” You hear him mutter mindlessly to himself under his breath before he slightly shifts, now blocking the light from your face. 

“Better?” He smiles, and when you could now see him clearly, it’s as if your brain and rationality flew out the window. “Pretty,” the word comes out in a genuine and awestruck tone, definitely clear and loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Oikawa Toru was indeed the prettiest person your eyes ever landed on your whole life— with his mint green Seijoh shirt, the material sticking to his chest because of his sweat, his handsomely disheveled hair that you could only imagine running your fingers through, and with his lips slightly apart as he breathed through them; chest rising up and down quite heavily, obviously because he’s been practicing too long. 

He smells so freaking great, and he was extremely close you’re gravitated to hold him. 

What really had you smitten and weak were his eyes though, with the way he looked at you, you could almost pretend he found you as interesting and beautiful as you did him. 

You snap out of it the moment you hear Kindaichi’s laughter. Oikawa was clearly surprised at what you had just said—speechless, eyebrows raised, and head cocked to the side in puzzle. 

Kunimi snorts from behind his captain, “she’s okay,” he says while trying to stifle his giggle. Oikawa’s caught in a dilemma, should he flirt and get carried away with the admiring look in your eyes or should he check on your condition first?

The latter, he tells himself. 

“Y/n-chan, was it? You okay? Does your head hurt?” He calmly asks you as he helps you completely sit up without having to lean on him. 

Toru being afraid you’ll collapse or get dizzy again, was still sitting at the balls of his feet, his thigh just behind your back and his hand unconsciously massaging your head. This doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone, of course— what a shocker, the Great Oikawa was genuinely this concerned even though you’re evidently okay now?

“Here,” he offers his hand, helping you stand up, the both of you failing to fight the fuzzy feeling in your chests at the contact. You may look like you were still battling the dizziness in your head but in reality, you were cringing so bad now that you’ve realized what you had just said. 

“Thanks, Oikawa-senpai,” you shyly mutter, your idiot friends giggling at your exchange. For obvious reasons, you can’t bring yourself to look up at Oikawa, “I’m really sorry y/n-chan, you appeared out of nowhere, you could hit me back if you like, though Iwa-chan already hit me hard too, wait, no, the point is, I’m really really sorry,” he brings his hands together as he slightly bows his head.

“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it,” you try to reassure him, instinctively grabbing his hands to have him retrieve himself from that position and at the same time planning your escape. “Uh, it’s late, I have to go,” you awkwardly say when he looks at you, and your eyes meet even if it’s just for a mere second before you looked away again. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, eyes darting to his hands which you’ve held just seconds ago— he doesn’t want you to go yet. 

“Yes, uh, goodnight, and uhm well, take care,” you flush, cringing at every word that came out of your mouth. Take care? Wow, you sound so stupid. 

Before he could say something back, you’ve rushed out of the gym, his heart ultimately deflating after seeing you go. With a sigh, he turns on his heels to get back to practicing his serves— he can’t help it, there’s nothing he could do to see you nor does he have any reason to talk to you again. 

Little did he know you sat right outside the gym, on the first step of the staircase, with your hand on your chest at an attempt to calm down your erratic heartbeat. The image of his smile, his eyes, his face— breathtaking. His voice was velvet and his supposedly platonic touches were so immaculate for you that you still feel the tingles and the warmth despite being out there in the cold. 

Your friends were right, you’d love to manage their team.

or maybe you’ll love him, an involuntary voice from your subconscious makes you grow flustered all over again. 

“That sucked,” Iwaizumi comments just to piss him off more, referring to his 27th failed attempt at a decent serve. Oikawa groans, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “how annoying!” 

“Oikawa-san, you’ll see her again, you know,” Kunimi nonchalantly says without looking up as he scrolls through his phone, aware of how he’s got his captain’s attention in an instant. 

“What? What do you mean? I wouldn’t care less if I don’t Kunimi-kun,” he tries to brush it off, though he was beyond curious— when and how could he look back at those pretty e/c eyes of yours and hear you call him pretty again? 

“Y/n L/n, Seijoh first year, class 1-2,” he says with an eye roll. Oikawa grins— so you went to his school too, now there’s nothing to be down about anymore. Maybe he’ll accidentally cross paths with you in the halls and maybe he’ll accidentally strike up a conversation too. 

“So you guys are friends?” He asks, the subtle smile on his face never shaken off. “I guess, and just so you know, she came here because we asked her to try being our manager.” 

“Our manager?” He smirks, spinning the ball in his hands now with oozing confidence and ease, “even better,” he chuckles before tossing the ball in the air, and with full force sending it across the net, successfully hitting the floor with precision, speed and power. 

“Someone’s fired up,” Iwaizumi says with an eye roll, but his comment was ignored as Toru happily hums to himself, picking up another ball from the ground 

“Can’t wait to know you, y/n l/n.” 

General Taglist: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff​ @animebs​ @sunshine-hina​ @hajimesbbygrl​ @kellesvt​ @24hr7dysdizzy​ @arnxldss​

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[millers-planet]

The Vice and the Virtue - Part Two

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x GN!Reader (later established as F following more parts)

A/N: this isn’t my best work. i don’t entirely know where to take this series, ngl.

POV: Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Use of “Y/N”. Angst. Brief desc of gore.

Words: 2.1k

Description: How does one live a life of virtue when past vices begin arising after a successful jailbreak with untied ends?

part one

“Are you serious?” I can’t believe he’s doing this. The second he gets back, too. It makes me question the real value of me to him, if my presence is of any substantial worth. I know that he thinks higher of me, but right now I’m having a hard time believing that.

He sighed and looks back to me, away from him new buddies, “you know why I have to go. I already explained this.” By this point, he’s talking to me as if I am a child, and I am having none of it. 

“I know why you’re going and I get that, it’s not what I have a problem with. You aren’t letting me come with you.” I tried to take a step to him, but he backed away, really emphasizing my doubt. “Fine. You left once and didn’t come back for 5 plus years, I’m sorry I don’t want to sit here and wonder when you’re gonna be back again or wonder if I’m going to have to finally move on.” I really didn’t want to have to pull this card, especially in front of his friends, but I will be damned before he walks out that door without me. 

Zemo dropped his bags and closed the gap between us, putting his hands on cheeks, knowing it comforts me. “You’re right,” his voice got softer and more warm, “I didn’t think of it that way when I probably should of. I was only wrapped up in the possibility of you getting hurt.” He placed a small kiss on my forehead and nodded towards out bedroom, “you should go pack, and quickly.”

With a furrow of my eyebrows and pushing my lips into a frown, I snarkily replied, “you do realize I was listening to your conversations last night? I already have a bag packed.” With a quick rush, I grabbed my bag that was resting on the edge of the bed. 

As everyone was checking their rooms to make sure they grabbed everything, or clarifying one thing or another, Bucky walked up to me. “If you want, I can carry your bag for you, you keep adjusting your shoulder strap.” 

With a small smile, I handed him my bag. “Thank you, I really appreciate that.” For some reason, I was thinking previously that Bucky was a middle ground of Zemo and Sam, sarcastic and a little cold, but he seems really sweet. It makes me think that chivalry isn’t completely dead.

Taking a seat next to Zemo on the plane, with Bucky and Sam sitting across from us, the deafening engines began, only muffled as the door sealed itself shut. I don’t remember the last time I was on a plane, let alone on one with him. We used to go quite often on little vacations, dates, or getaways, but stopped once he got busy with ‘work’. Either way, it was nice to be back on one with him, despite the circumstances.

Sam and Bucky looked very uncomfortable, taken aback when people came and served us nearly whatever we wanted. Bucky gave me worried glances when people came up to him and asked him strange questions, to which I helped him out. Zemo and I, on the complete opposite spectrum, got right at home. 

A watched him pull out a small book inside another, one that I didn’t recognize. “I’m fascinated by this, I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is... Nakajima?” Before I could question anything, everything switched around. Sam was reaching out, Bucky was lashing forward, and Zemo had a hand around his throat. 

With a small mumble, Bucky spoke, “if you touch that again I’ll kill you,” and returned swiftly to his seat. Everything fell quiet and tense, with Zemo glaring at Bucky and him staring at the window, plus Sam just eyeing the two of them. I pulled my knees up to my chest and tried to ignore the rest of the conversation.

All I heard were conversations about Steve, ice, and writing stuff down in the notebook. 

“I like 40′s music.” Bucky’s voice was irritated and drained of emotion.

That was, until, I chimed in with “what do you think about Sinatra?”

Bucky shrugged, “A little past my time. I was too busy being brainwashed to really get into him. Have you listened to anything by Nat King Cole?”

I instantly lit up, it was so nice being able to talk to someone about something light-hearted. “Only a few songs, but they were really good.”

“So, you didn’t like Marvin Gaye?”

“I liked it, Sam.” Bucky just responded emptily back to him

“It’s a masterpiece, James-” Zemo began shortly, until I interrupted

“-It’s complete, comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.”

Same looked a the two of us. “He’s out of line, and she’s just smart, but they’re both right. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

Bucky kept the dead tone, “I already said I liked Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

From there, the three of them went on about Steve. I knew brief things about him but I was never caught up in the superhero world. All I understood was that his name was Steve Rogers and that he is Captain America, a super soldier, who was besties with Sam and Bucky.  Other than that, I didn’t really care about this Steve guy or the Avengers in general, it doesn’t sit right with me knowing the conflicts Zemo has had with them.

It was slightly cool out with the rain just about to pass through, along with the open bridge and river allowing for more cool air to travel. Changing out of a t-shirt and jeans into a thin-ass top with matching black thin-ass leggings made the air seem ten times as cold. 

I walked in between Sam and Zemo, wrapped up in his heavy coat and arm loosely wrapped around my waist. “Only an American would think a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp, you’re fitting in nicely with your alias,” Zemo’s hand dropped from me and handed his phone to Sam. “A sophisticated man nicknamed the Smiling Tiger.”

Sam just sighed. “He even has a bad nickname. But,” he looked closer at the phone, “he sure does look like me.” Zemo took the phone back and returned his arm around me. “Is that acid?”

“Madripoor.” His voice became clearer and dropped. “Whatever you do, we must stay in character, there is no margin for error, our lives depend on it. Over there is High Town, not a bad place if you want to visit. Low Town is the other way.”

“Let me guess, we don’t have any friends in High Town?” 

I stopped dead in my track as the car came forward. “Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Everyone turned to stare at me. “Look at that car, who the hell is sitting in the middle of the backseat, I know for damn sure it isn’t me.” I walked forward and sat in one of the window seats in the back as Zemo chuckled and got in the front.

Sam and Bucky exchanged nervous glances, until they began shoving each other like from the other day. As the back door opened, I raised my voice to them, “HEY! If you guys want to fight over middle seat, play rock, paper, scissors. I’m not gonna deal with the two of you bickering the whole time. Best out of three, on ‘shoot’.”

They mumbled the saying each time. First, Sam won. Second, Bucky. Third, Bucky again.

Sam groaned like a child, “Man! I hate this.”

I was hyper-aware of everything going on. Specifically, how many people were staring at me. It was just me with three other men going into a bar full of other men and few women. It’s suffice to say I was uncomfortable, especially since Zemo took his jacket back, so I couldn’t hide away into it. But the quiet mumbles of “is that the Winter Soldier?” put my mind slightly at ease.

The bartender looked taken aback by Sam’s approach. “I wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

Zemo entered quickly, “his plans changed. We have business to do... with Selby.”

“The usual?” Sam replied with a small nod, only to regret it--in his eyes--once everyone saw the eel come out. I had to cover my hands with my mouth to not gag as he took the shot, only for a disapproving look to follow from the bartender.

A hand was place on my shoulder and I instinctively turned around, Zemo following quickly. It was some strange man, “got word from on high, you ain’t welcome here.

“I have no business with the Power Broker. But, if he insists, he can come talk to me or...” he motion to Bucky, “bring Selby for a chat.” The man then took that as his cue to leave.

I turned around, back to the bar, and pushed myself closer to Zemo. “When can we get out of here? When can we meet Selby?”

“Soon,” he muttered, until a hand was placed on his shoulder this time, leading to a glance back to Bucky and a command in Russian.

Buckys metal hand met the stranger, throwing him into the ground. Other followed to him quickly, but the ‘Winter Soldier’ took them out without drop of sweat. Following a broken table and someone being kicked into it, another guy walked up next to us, which seemed like a problem until Zemo pushed him to Bucky, who took care of him. His metal arm wrapped around the throat of another, pushing him into the bar, the sound of guns cocking filling the silence.

“Selby will see you now.”

“You’re taller than I heard, Smiling Tiger,” Selby  slowly raised her eyes up to Sam, who kept his face stiff and only spared her a look for a second. She rolled her tongue and focused herself onto me, as I stood behind Zemo’s chair. “You, I don’t think I’ve seen or heard of you. Come here! Take a seat,” she patted the oddly patterned couch as smiled crookedly up at me. As soon as I sat down she pulled me close and let my hair fall into her hand, “I don’t know how he got you to on his hip, what does he pay you?” Her voice was just a loud enough whisper to let everyone interpret, intentionally.

Zemo cleared his throat and stood up, “perhaps we should get back to the deal. I will give you the Winter Soldier,” he motioned to Bucky who kept his face straight, “along with the words to operate him, of course. Only, if you give me information I desire.”

She laughed and let me go, “that’s the Zemo I remember, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right.” Selby shifted more to him and let her head fall into her hand. “The serum is in Madripoor, with Doctor Nagel you can thank or condemn. He was making it for the Power Broker until things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” 

“Aww,” she stood up and slowly inched her way toward Zemo. “The bread crumbs you can have for free but the bakery is going to cost you, Baron. And don’t think you can find Nagel without me, either.” Selby opened her mouth to speak, until a phone buzzing interrupted her.

Everyone’s face dropped, except for Selby, who’s lit up with excitement. “Go on, answer it... on speaker.” Zemo’s eyes met mine, when he carefully mouthed, “it’ll be fine.”

“Hello?” Sam forced himself cool, maintaining a flat voice.

“Hey so this situation has got me thinking, about the boat and the bank.” It was a feminine voice on the other end of the phone.

“Ah, the bank.. we laundered so much money.” He glanced around and was clearly anxious by this point. “Yeah, they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out Big Time?” Sam’s face dropped to the cool look again, realizing the other person caught onto the gig, until the phone erupted with, “hey! What did I say about those Cheerios? Sam, I’ll call you back.”

Selby furrowed her eyebrows together and glanced around the room. “Who is Sam? Kill them-” her sentence ended as a bullet puncture through her and body collapsed on the floor. The two standing men were taken out by Bucky and Sam, as Zemo ran to me. 

My hand flew over my mouth as I stared at the body. “Is she? She was just-” I quickly started hyperventilating, it was so sudden and I’ve never watched someone die before. “Zemo, she’s dead, oh my god.”

He pulled me into his chest and stood me up, hold me tightly and leading us toward the door. “It will be alright, just focus on me.” He stopped and looked around the room, trying to figure out the plan. “Leave your weapons and follow my lead, we have a real problem now.”

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[mxvladdy]

wait holy shit youre taking requests???? okay first of all, im in love with your writing skills especially those true forms they are *chefs kiss* magnifique. second, may i request for an angst but fluff ending prompt for barbatos/simeon/solomon (im an absolute simp for them) about MC having a really bad asthma attack and coupled with anxiety attack? (totally not me lmao) please and thank you! sorry for being too specific!

A/N: Oshbagosh! I hope you are good fam! You have excellent taste in simpin ngl Barbatos came out of left field for me, though I am weak for a quick wit and sharp tongue lol. And thank you for liking my works! Sorry, this took so long;.;

I hope my research was good and accurate! 

Barbatos

Does not know what is going on at first. Were you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? Had you gotten into some Devildom spices he hadn’t secured well enough?

Panics internally. He is very ready to spend the exurbanite amount of energy it would take to turn back the clocks before you started wheezing. 

Externally he keeps a level head, glad his gloves hide how sweaty his palms are. He remembers then your human medical file. 

He tends to you quickly grabbing your medication and carrying you away from whatever triggered this attack. 

“Do you need a doctor?” Barbatos asks for the umpteenth time. He runs a gloved hand up and down your back. You shake your head weakly coughing to try and dislodge some phlegm now breakdown in your throat. You take a shaky breath feeling your airways loosen, the fresh air that fills your lungs taste so sweet. 

“I’ll be ok Barb.” You wheeze taking another deep inhale from your inhaler. “Stop hovering and sit please, you are starting to stress me out more.” The demon makes a weird tutting noise in distress but comes to sit next to you. You lean back with a groan. The garden wall was rough on your back but you didn’t care at the moment. It had been so long since you had a flare-up you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You shift over slightly seeking out the heat of your companion's body. Exhausted you flop over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here let me.” He pulls out his ornate handkerchief and starts whipping at your nose and eyes. “What triggered this love? Have I missed someplace in my cleaning?” He knew he didn’t, never in all his years had he ever missed a spot. He would retire in shame if he did, but he felt like he had to fill the silence. If you were talking that meant you were alright. Right? He curses at himself. He thought he knew more about humans than this, yet you somehow threw curveball after curveball at him. He needs you to be safe and happy yet he choked on something like this? Perhaps he would suffer more of Solomon’s companionship to pick his brain on human ailments. As long as he could dodge eating any of his cooks.   

You fidget as he cleans your face and fusses over you, but you let him. This was for his benefit more than yours. “No, I think it's pollen. Your plants are not something I’m used to yet, and with the wind, it just hit harder.” He grunts, not pleased with your answer. He could do anything about the plants, and things out of his control were few and far between. You catch the inner argument he was having with his many selves and scoff. “Barb-” You take the cloth from him and tuck it in your pocket. “You and all your selves absolutely cannot control my illness, and that's ok.” He doesn’t look convinced, no doubt looking for a loophole in the webs he weaves. 

“Given the time I-” He stops at your withering look. “I don’t like not being in control.” Your look softens. 

“Who does?” You clear your throat finally feeling a bit more like yourself. Well, at least the garden wasn’t spinning anymore. “There. I think I can manage. Can you help me to the nurses' office? I should get a check-up since it’s been a while since I’ve had an attack. Then I think I’m going to call it a day.” 

Barbatos nods helping you to your shaky feet. His hands locked around your arm like he was afraid you would crumble again. You give him a reassuring look and lean into his weight. You didn’t need it, but it was a nice feeling, being looked after. Besides, it was so rare to get his sole attention. “I’ll inform the young master  that we will be taking the rest of the day off.” 

“We?” 

“Of course.”  He says resolutely. “Unless you wish for me to leave?” He barely contains his smile when he feels your hands squeeze tighter around his bicep. 

“As long as I’m not impeding.” Your words are half-hearted at best. You don’t give a damn if it throws off some super-secret agenda, you were happy to have more time with him. He calmed your nerves. 

Simeon

He hadn’t meant to trigger an attack. The weather outside was simply lovely.  It was dry and warm with a breeze that made grass dance in a mesmerizing way. The track around one of the Devildom’s many bodies of crystalline water was beautiful at this time of the day. He had to share his enthusiasm.

He just wanted to go for a walk with you. He had so much to talk about with you that he forgot how long his legs are compared to yours. He was so excited he didn’t realize how fast his gait is and how much you were struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t realize your troubles until he felt a sweaty palm on his wrist. 

Openingly gets panicked but knows about human medicine and where you store your inhaler. 

Simeon breathes deeply through his nose and out his mouth. One deep inhale and one long exhale- focus just focus. His chest clenches in alarm at your shallow pants, his eyesight narrowing down to pinpricks. Blessedly he keeps a steady hand.

“Slowly now my dear.” He shakes your inhaler before bringing it to your lips. His strong fingers massaging your jaw to loosen it. Squeezing your cheeks he slips the apparatus past your teeth noticing how glassy your eyes were becoming. “Inhale.” He orders thanking his father you understand him enough to comply.  He watches you like a hawk till he hears your heartbeat steady. Once he is sure he could look away he calls Lucifer. He doesn’t remember what he said, but he knew it was a panic-fueled rush.

“Simeon,” He looks up from his phone. “I’m ok…” You wheeze blinking up into the afternoon moons. Simeon shushes you running his warm hands over your cheeks. They were ice-cold despite the heat. He warms his palms with magic watching the fog clear from your gaze. “Thanks.” 

“You shouldn’t thank me.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “This is my fault. I apologize, my dove.” You chuckle breathlessly becoming aware of your surroundings. Last thing you remember was walking up the shoreline. Now the hardwood of the bench pokes at your back. Had you collapsed here? Or did Simeon carry you over? “I should have been more aware of the situation.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. His lower lip turns red as he worries it with his teeth.

You swat his hand away from his hair wincing in sympathy when a few chunks of hair that follow. Linking his dexterous fingers with your clammy ones, you trace the lines in his palm with your thumb. You try to breathe in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest letting your meds take full effect. Your breathing was better, but you still had spots in your vision. “It’s not your fault really. I should have told you when I started feeling bad.” 

“I should have noticed. How can I protect you if I can’t even realize your limitations?” He bemoans. You exhale a jerky laugh. Your lungs throbbing with the sharp movement. It ached for sure, but not enough that you couldn’t get up. Ignoring his protests you get off the bench and pull him up with you.  

“None of that!” You wag a finger in his face. I’m allowed to panic, not you. You try to make light of the situation but your finger trembles in his face.  “You did exactly what you should have so don’t doubt yourself. Sides’-” You clasp yours. hands together playing with your thumbs. “I got horribly distracted too, and pushed myself.” 

“By what?” 

“You.” Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “ You were so excited to have the day with me I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Simeon blinks. “You-didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling me you were having an asthma attack?” You shrug, a childish smile crossing your face. Unbelievable. Simeon swears under his breath. “I-I am at a loss for words.” He places both his hands on your shoulders squeezing them. “I will find them later and then we'll talk about your amazing lack of self-preservation, but for now, Lucifer is waiting for us at the nurses' office.” Not giving you time to argue he scoops you up, arm holding you under your knees and securely around your shoulders.  Once he knew you were safe, he would make sure to have an eye on you at all times.

Solomon

The dusty old library located in the catacombs of the school was a dead giveaway to be trouble for your lungs. You both knew that. He warns you, the moment you feel ill they are leaving, no questions, no arguments. Very much the calmest of the three. He is human...mostly… so he knows the signs and can catch it much faster than the others. 

Still worried about you though. You aren’t a mage,  just his regular old human. 

When he gets nervous he makes jokes. Not appropriate given the circumstances but they just come out. So while he is dragging you from the school he is making the obligatory joke about him taking your breath away.

He will have whatever medications or potions he can think of at the ready for you to use if you need them. Won’t baby you or hover, you’ve lived with this for long he doesn’t want to insult you in any way. But he will keep close and have his ringer on loud in case you need him.

But now he wants you to rest and recover. He’ll keep you company though.

You gaze sleepily out of the bedroom window propped up on an exorbitant amount of puffs and pillows. You breathe out with caution, testing to see if you were still having any lingering effects from being down in the catacombs. It wasn’t anything too serious this time, thankfully. The moment you started clearing your throat and breathing just a little too hard to be considered normal, Soloman had grabbed both your bags and dragged you from the moldy and dusty space. You were a little put out at how quickly your asthma had acted up. You had just found the book you were looking for too. 

“If you keep squirming out of your blankets I’ll seal you in there with magic.” Your captor friend appears, pulling aside the drapes around his bed to sit next to you. He flashes you a cocky grin placing a tray on his bedside table. Solomon scans your face looking for any inkling of pain that might linger. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m hot.” You lie. In truth, the many blankets he wrapped you in felt marvelous, but you were being cantankerous. You wanted to get up and go back to work. The mage raises a pale brow, not believing a word of it.

“Of course you are, my little scholar.” He tucks you in again a little tighter then props your cocooned feet on his legs. “How are you really?” 

You shrug. Compared to other attacks you’ve had this one was thankfully mild.  Most likely because he had whisked you out the winding maze-like library faster than you thought possible. The jitters from the panic attack that followed took more out of you. Luckily for you, Solomon handled that easily too. “You know I want to go back.” You had your hands on the book you wanted when you started feeling a little breathless.  You wanted to believe it was out of excitement for the tomes. But the back of that section of the library was damp, cool, and dark. The perfect trifecta for your lungs to riot. 

Solomon nodded unfazed. “Yes, I’ve come to realize that whenever danger is present you seem to gravitate towards it.” He smiles fondly at your pout. Your thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as his, and both of you seemed to have a knack for attracting danger. He watches you fidget in your confines for a little bit more before sighing. “Alright-alright, I get the drift hold still.”  Leaning over you he loosens the covers around your arms to give you a little bit of freedom. As soon as you were free you pinch his nose hard in retaliation. “Oi!”  He laughs pulling back to rub at his nose. “Such violence! And here I came bearing gifts!” 

“That’s for insulting me!” You huff settling back down. “I hope it’s food, I’m starving.” You eye him expectantly. 

“Feed you? After that assault? My, you are brazing.” He picks up the tray he brought despite himself. The school cafe was serving your favorites today. Placing it on your lap he brushes his lips across your cheek. “Plus, I made tea.” You hum in excitement, eyes lighting up with glee. While he couldn’t cook worth a damn (you chalk it up to him irretrievably destroying his sense of taste and smell tolling over potions for years). He did have amazing luck with blending tea leaves and spices. A skill he severely took for granted. 

You pick up the tea and breath deeply only to have a coughing fit. His warm broad hands are there in an instant pushing you back into the pillows. “Sorry-sorry. Still a bit tender.” You smile through watery eyes. “It smells great!” 

“Does it? What do you smell? I admit, I just picked out things that looked pretty together.” He flushes pink rubbing at the back of his neck. 

You take the cup again and sniff. It had a hint of springtime in it, warm and sharp. Something earthy mixed with fire. You take a sip. “Hmm, spicy. Is that licorice?” Solomon nods. 

“It is indeed, I read that licorice and black pepper can help with asthma symptoms and circulation. I figured it could wash the  taste of your meds away.” He jokes watching you eat and take small sips of the steaming brew. He smiles to himself, glad you could get so comfortable in his room. Perhaps once you were dozing he could slip back into the library and conveniently “borrow” the book you had to leave earlier.

[obeiii-mee]

Hey there! Love your writing. What about MC spending a whole day with just one of the brothers? Like you know, if the brothers were deciding what to do? Sorry if it’s too boring and romantic haha, I’m a lost case, I desperately need that night walks with Satan and working out with Beel in my life haha. Thanks xx

Same though. I love writing just typical HCs with the bros during date night or something. And I’m currently writing a few angst HCs so I really needed this too lmao. I hope you don’t mind these not being too long. I hope this satisfies you lol.

Enjoy!

——————————

The Brothers Spending a Whole Day with MC:

Lucifer:

-Mr. Prideful doesn’t take many days off

-But when he’s with you, he really feels like he can unwind properly

-Lucifer loves going on walks with you tbh

-He feels like it’s a nice break from all of his office work and meetings

-Sometimes the two of you end up in Majolish or a restaurant

-He definitely has a thing for spoiling you on days like these, because he feels he doesn’t appreciate you enough otherwise

-Like when he yells at both you and Mammon for doing stupid shit around Lord Diavolo

-The two of you could walk through the whole of DevilDom hand in hand if you had more hours in the day

-I see Lucifer as a bit traditional when it comes to dating so it’s obvious you’ll have movie dates and everything

-But a day off for him? With you? Away from his brothers, all of their chaos and the never ending attention his paperwork needs?

-It feels like he’s in the Celestial Realm all over again

-He does love you

-His past just doesn’t let him express his affection towards you very well

Mammon:

-If the two of you could spend the whole day together, there are only three places you could be at: Majolish, the casino or trying to make money for Mammon’s debts somewhere

-But it doesn’t really matter for him

-He could be stuck in a broom closet with you and still be happy (though he wouldn’t admit it)

-Spending a day with just him is bound to end in tears to be honest, on his part usually

-Because everything is going well and you’re having fun

-“Ah shit!”

-“Mammon you OK? What happened?”

-“I accidentally sold Lucifer’s gloves for 50000 Grimm!”

-How does one accidentally sell something?

-So he get a bit of an earful for that

-Other than that, being with the second eldest is crazy enough as it is

-You may have lost all that money at the casino but for the first time in a while, Mammon didn’t care that much

-Because you were there and laughing with him about how stupid both of you were

-You guys hit as many shops as possible and just generally have a messy, fun time together

-He often ends these days saying something like “You should be grateful that THE GREAT MAMMON agreed to let you tag along with him today.”

-But just kiss him on the cheek and he will shut up. For like hours. He’ll be too flushed to even look you in the eye

-He really wants to spend another day out with his human

Levi:

-Welp, life of a shut-in otaku

-It should be of no surprise that the two of you spend most of your time in his room

-It’s just the one place he’s most comfortable in and having you there makes it so much better

-Anime’s and video games are a must obviously

-But he loves doing movie marathons with you too (while loudly complaining the movie sucks and that you’re a normie for choosing it. Which means he likes it)

-Maybe a few good hours of him ranting about TSL because it’s Levi

-So the chances of you guys getting any sleep on said day are slim to none

-Also, if you agree to go to conventions with him, he will die of happiness

-On the rare occasion that he does go outside, he’s only out there because you went with him so that should tell you how much he loves you

-But most of the time you’re locked in his room to the point where Luci dearest has to come along and drag you the fuck to breakfast

-Ah, true love~~

Satan:

-I mean, this one should be pretty obvious too

-If he doesn’t enjoy dates in the library, then is he really Satan? (I never thought a sentence like that would ever be typed)

-Most of the time it ends with him reading to you because his voice is sO bEAutIful and you just melt when you hear it

-I will forever hc that he makes sound effects while reading too so imagine that

-You two don’t always get the chance to spend a whole day together

-But he tries to check in on you at least once a day

-*Cue romantic run through the house of Lamentation, trying to find you so he can gossip and bitch about Lucifer*

-Walks with him are very common too

-They usually take place at night, because he’s a sap and he read too many romance books and damn it kiss him already

-He would hold an umbreally over you if it started raining and everything

-Satan takes these moments to chat to you about anything, he just wants to appreciate you being there

-You guys made out several times while on these ‘walks’ ngl skskevshskbeuensb

-One time, you showed him a cat cáfe in the human realm and he went nuts

-Safe to say you’ve been there more times than I care to count, most of which were without permission

-A day with him can either go extremely calmly and end with you guys falling asleep on each other in his room or escalate to either pranking Lucifer or...steamier stuff

-Haha if anyone ever mentions he’s a cheesy bastard, they’re dead before they can say their prayers

-Except you, you get the pass on this one, tease him as much as you want

Asmo:

-Finally, he gets to have you all to himself without any of his brothers cockblocking him all the time~ (same tbh)

-The whole day would be planned from head to toe in activities and events

-It would start with some sort of makeover in the morning (getting your nails done, doing hairstyles, skin routine etc.)

-Then it would move on to some serious shopping sprees where he basically buys everything that he deems to be cute

-They’re for you 100% tho

-The day usually ends with you getting dragged to parties and clubs because Asmo can’t go a day without speaking to other people

-By the time you get home, you’re almost knocked out cold and carrying several bags full of clothes and shit

-But you can never say you didn’t enjoy yourself on these days

-Having Asmo around is exhilarating and somehow, even if crowds happen to not be your thing, it’s still really easy to have fun anyway

-There are times when the two of you stay at home and do each other’s nails and everything

-And you two are very fond of these sort of dates as well

-Of course, all of this assuming he won’t try to seduce you and get in your pants all day

-Turns our Mammon is somehow telepathically connected to you and rushes over any time this happens

-So much for not being cockblocked I guess

-He always switches things up as well which is usually very pleasant because you don’t visit the same shops or clubs every day

-Just be back by midnight or you’ll have your asses handed back to you otherwise

Beel:

-Beel loves you

-Beel loves food

-If those two happen to be in the same room, he might as well die peacefully

-It’s all he ever asked for (especially if Belphie is there too)

-Half of the day is spent at either Hell’s Kitchen or in your kitchen at home

-For him, the food always tastes better when you’re there so if you’re willing to go, then he’ll be like a cheerful puppy the whole time (how many times have I compared Beel to a puppy lmao)

-The other half of the day is spent training

-Work out sessions are important to him and he’s more than happy to let you join in

-If anything, you’ll be on his back as he does his push ups even though you’re not that heavy to him

-It sort of warms that demon heart of his because you’re always there handing him towels and water after he’s finished

-And you always have snacks prepared too which is wonderful really

-Kudos for being able to hide them from him the whole time

-It’s also not that surprising to know that you, Beel and Belphie hang out a lot

-So these days often mean that Belphegor tags along with you guys everywhere

-You won’t notice him tho, believe me, he’ll just stay attached to Beel’s back and sleep the whole time

-If he gets to spend a day with his loved ones, then Beel can honestly not ask for more

Belphie:

-“Belphie...?”

-“Yes MC?”

-“Is.....is that a pillow fort that’s almost as big as the attic?”

-“It is indeed.”

-“Why?”

-“Why not?”

-Tbh it would be a miracle if you two didn’t sleep the whole day

-But if he had to go somewhere with you

-It would be anywhere

-Much like Mammon, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the evironment as long as you’re there

-Chances are, however, that he will sneak you two to the human world a few times in secret

-He still insists he hates humans but truth is, he misses them and their realm

-Going back there, without permission the same way he did all those centuries ago, was like a breath of fresh air

-You guys would be chilling at a park in the human realm, probably make small picnic or something

-Belphie, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, loves these dates and would kill anything on his path if it meant he gets to be in your arms while taking a nap in the human world

-He invites Beel along too which makes everything so much better for him

-He will just fall asleep on you while you run your fingers through his hair

-Belphie is so warm too so it’s likely you won’t stay awake for long either

-Poor Beel has to carry both back to DevilDom but he does it anyway without complaining >:(

-He knows that he isn’t allowed to come up here and that he should stop these dates before Lucifer finds out

-But being out here with you brings him an irreplaceable meaning and you’re so soft and gentle, he can’t resist cuddling into you

-Also he doesn’t give a shit what Lucifer thinks

(Idk why my writing is so bad in this post, it kinda feels like I forced myself to write it and maybe that’s why..? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my mess of HCs)

Al~

[wornoutmouse]

WARNING: suicide, dark intrusive thoughts, heavy angst, no happy ending

Suicide Hotline : 800-273-8255,

Ngl I almost cried writing this. Imagine that out of all the literature to make me break it’d be my own.

The rain dripped down his discolored body as he stood in it. Unbothered by the lack of weatherly protection he wore, he allowed the droplets to collect on his lashless lids imitating the tears he couldn’t cry. Inky black lines fell down his face in a mockery of the sorrow he didn’t deserve.

It happened again, he should have seen it coming. Why did he expect it to be any different this time? The wilted flowers in his hand bent as the drops of rain they needed, crushed them in its unbearable weight. It was your birthday, the day he thanked this Godless world for, something you would hit him for whenever you tried to share your bible study teachings.

A shaken hand lights a cigarette as he recalls the sight he was destined to witness. Blue smoke filled the air and in the distance, he heard the siren of the authorities, but he didn’t care.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to not answer the door, you weren’t one to get up early. Something he took advantage of by snuggling close to your sleeping form whenever he snuck in. So he did his normal routine of walking around and jumping through your always-open window.

After stepping one leather-clad shoe inside he knew something was not right. Your usual smell of incense had dwindled down to only a spicy taste on his tongue. The darkness of your home was unusual in itself since you always thought monsters lurked in the dark.

He resisted the cough that swelled in his lungs as the smoke polluted the once clean air.

Monsters, a topic you brought up so commonly, he almost believed them to exist. Laughter bubbles from his discolored lips. He supposed they do exist, in the down ridden alleys of the world, lurking to catch some unsuspecting victim and leading them closer to their own demise.

Then there were the once in our own heads. Oh, he was familiar with those. The nagging crawling feeling of them whispering in his ears as they dragged their claws along his skin, urging him to hurt either himself or others. He listened to their every whim and need just to get them silent for only a moment. Then you came along.

You didn’t heal him, he was no fool, this wasn’t a fairytale. But for the few moments he spent with you, he felt almost free, normal. The voices and urges seemed to lessen almost as if they were afraid of your brightness. Afraid of the smile that once lit up the room. The smile that told him everything would be okay, that forgiveness can be had by all.

But now, now he was afraid. It had only been a moment but he could feel them coming back tenfold.

“It’s your fault. She couldn’t stand to be near you no longer.”

“You were being so selfish you didn’t even know she was hurting too.”

“There’s Dabi, doing what he does best and ruining things for everyone.”

The numbness he felt as the words pierced his brain was telling in itself. He tried to hold on to the words you once said, your laughter. Anything that would keep them away for a little longer. Why did you leave him, was it something he did? Was he so blinded by the selfless help you offered that he couldn’t see past his own needs?

The image of you laying on the floor flashed in his mind. The way your cold skin made even the furnace inside him tremble as he held your limp body against him. How the room shook as he wailed tearless cries rang throughout the lifeless home.

He held you close against him as if encouraging your body to soak up his heat. That’s all, you were just cold, he could warm you up. All you needed was to be warmed up. Dabi had hoisted you in his arms. You had never felt smaller. Your hair was long overdue for a redo as stray strands tickled his nose.

He laid you in your bed and draped the cover over your body. You could bathe later when you woke back up. Dabi sat with a beating heart, he raised a finger to light the dumb little candles you kept in your room but stopped as he remembered you didn’t like him using his quirk in the house.

“She was scared you’d lose your temper and burning her.”

Dabi rummaged through the kitchen till he found a lighter, not forgetting to fill a vase with water. You would love the flowers he got you, some still had the root so you could grow them. The smell of the candles filled his nostrils. You said they were cinnamon eggnog but he could hardly smell with his burnt sinuses. The spice of the strong herb was the only thing that brought him comfort.

Dabi removed his dingy coat and laid next to you, you’d wake up, you had to. To protect him from his monsters. He held your steadily chilling body against his own, as he emitted a small amount of heat that he could share between the two of you.

The sound of the birds awakening filled his ears. You would wake up soon, you loved to hear the birds in the mornings even though he found them annoying.

Open pill bottles laid complacent on the bathroom counter but he ignored them. You would never do that, they were just to help you sleep, or your asthma. You didn’t take more than nessasary, they werent’ ‘empty’, you simply needed a refill.

“Don’t lie to yourself you morron”

“Wow, she couldn’t stand to be with you so much that she took that route.

Dabi buried himself in your soft hair, no, that isn’t true.

“You should take some with her, I’m sure she had a plan two if these didn’t work”

“Go ahead, kill yourself like a coward!”

He kept his eyes squeezed shut in a way to protect himself, he wasn’t going to listen, you loved him. This wasn’t his fault.

“Dabi”

“Dabi”

“DABI”

The sound of your voice above all others drew him to silence, maybe he’ll listen a bit closer. You’ll tell all his monster off just like you used to.

“Dabi you’re horrible.”

Look at what you did to me”

I was dying and you did nothing”

I’m dead.”

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME!”

“Even in my last moments, you’re clinging like a kicked dog”

“Pathetic.”

The mantra of voices sounding of you filled his head. His chest bounced up and down from a breath he could not feel. His hands clenched in your shirt as the smell of singe filled his diluted senses. The sight of his blue flames enveloping your form haunting his dreams for years to come as he fleed your once happy home.

His memory is cut as he feels his fingers burn from the dying cigarette. He never even put his lips to it. You hated when he smoked. He didn’t need to anyway, the sight of your house burning to ashes before him, was enough to satiate his longing for smoke in his lungs.

Dabi released a scoff as he tossed the ashes onto the water flooded street he stood on. Monsters, what you were most afraid of and something he couldn’t even protect you from. How could he, when he was one himself?

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Tethered (250 Drabble)

250 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: Everything I Need by Skylar Grey (Listen to it Here)

Word Count: 741

Warnings: A lil bit of angst, but mostly fluff. Peace, for once. Soft Ivar.

A/N: This is my favorite of today’s drabbles, ngl. Second one is Lost It. Two very different Ivars lol

Anyhow, hope you like this! Sending you my love!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​  @peachyboneless​

Born on the wrong side of the ocean

With all the tides against you

You never thought you’d be much good for anyone

But that’s so far from the truth

He still remembers his father’s words, his father’s advice. He still hears Ragnar whispering by his ear to be ruthless, he still hears the chains on his father’s wrists clanking by his ear as he grabbed him and told him with the certainty of a man that had seen it all that one day the whole world would know and fear him.

In many of his times of doubt, he clung to those words, as if they were a promise. From the father that never truly loved him, that despised him even; from the Gods that he felt had cursed him in so many ways, from the Fate that had made his life what it was, full of pain and grief and anger.

He clung to those words, clung to the anger, clung to the resolve to prove them all wrong.

I know there’s pain in your heart

And you’re covered in scars

Wish you could see what I do

He still remembers when he allowed himself to be human before his legend of a father, in that cold and damp cell that made his bones ache, and he remembers how Ragnar looked at him with a broken smile and whispered happiness is nothing.

When he returned to Kattegat and found his mother dead and gone, when he had to grieve for a mother that had never left his side, until he left hers and left her to die; when he had to grieve for a father twice over, for the one he had been and all the name Ragnarsson had granted him, and for the one he never could have been; Ivar believed it to mean that happiness isn’t real. That it is a trick of the weak mind, a mirage, a chimera.

When he found you and had you at his side, when he learned to love you and to let you love him, when he lost his breath in the thrill of your kiss, and every piece of his armor at the touch of your soft hand, and his heart to your smile; Ivar believed his father meant that happiness is a rare but fragile thing. That it does exist, but it is something so easily lost, a dream so easily shattered, that it is not worth the pain.

‘Cause baby, everything you are

Is everything I need

You’re everything to me

Baby, every single part

Is who you are meant to be

‘Cause you were meant for me

He realizes now, years older and what feels like ages more experienced, that for once Björn was right. His father was many things, but he wasn’t a God, he wasn’t anything other than a man.

A man with hopes, and regrets, and mistakes.

And he was wrong.

Happiness is your laugh sealed against his lips when he returns from a raid, happiness is your voice roughened by sleep whispering his name first thing in the morning, happiness is the feel of his child growing inside you kicking against his hand.

Happiness is you, and the life he thanks the Gods every day for being allowed to have.

And everything happens for a reason

It’s all a blessing in disguise

I used to question who I was

Well now I see

The answer is in your eyes

There are tears running down his face, there’s even more on your own and yet you press your soft and warm hand against his cheek as if to soothe him, as if to promise him this is real, this is yours, you can keep this.

His daughter lies calmly in your arms, eyes big and tranquil as she looks back at him. A small, fragile thing, that Ivar knows then and there he would destroy or rebuild the world to protect, to keep safe.

Happiness is her, and you, and this. Happiness is safe in his arms as you sleep against his chest, with little Aslaug nestled against your breast.

Happiness is everything, and it is his.

And he pities the poor fool that walks through this world planning on taking it -taking either of you- from him. Because he remembers his father’s words. And he will be ruthless, he will be anything he needs to be in order to keep this.

____

Thank you so much for reading! I would love to know what you think!

That’s it for today’s drabbles. I’ll hopefully see you soon for the Dialogue inspired ones! Love you all, and I am so so so grateful to all of you.

PS: Since tomorrow I’ll be uploading two chapters for νοσταλγία I won’t be uploading the drabbles, I’m sorry! The second day continues on Sunday! (I think I might do it that way from now on, skipping one day, hope you don’t mind)

[sparklingchan]

Waldosia || Na Jaemin (NCT Dream)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Jaemin

Word count : 1.5k+

Warnings : Cuss words(?), pure angst.

Genre : EXTREME ANGST, fluff (negligible).

Description : Every good thing has a beginning and an end, your seemingly perfect relationship with Jaemin is no exception to that fact.

A/N: Yes, this may or may not be inspired from personal trauma. Writing this made me sad tho ngl :((

Enjoy!

Waldosia (n.) : A condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person.

A romantic relationship between two teenagers can only ever end in two ways - either one of them loses feelings and ends it all or someone's cheats. High school relationships had a rare chance of ending in marriages , and you were mature enough to know that. Yet when you met Na Jaemin in 9th grade, you were hell bent to prove the world that they were wrong to make such horrendous assumptions.

"Do you think we can make it ?" You had asked him one night as he took you home after your movie date. You'd never forget the way his hand had clutched yours ever so tightly, as if he never intended to let go , and he pressed a kiss to your temple, "If we try , we definitely will. We're different, y/n. We always have been."

You believed him.

The next spring when he left the town to finish his schooling from a city school , you didn't want to let him go. You wanted him to stay. You had fears that you'd rather never say out loud.

"Please don't leave me, Minnie." you had hugged him tighter than you'd ever done before. His strong arms only reciprocating your desires.

"I really wish I could stay, y/n. I really do. But I'm here now and I'll always be there. Believe me." he whispered in your ears with the sweetest possible voice, "I love you, baby."

You loved him so much more.

*

He had changed a great deal over the next few months, you noticed, more emotionally than physically. Your phone didn't buzz with notifications as it used to before and he seemed very busy...almost as if on purpose.

"So when are you coming home?" You asked him over phone a few nights later. You missed him so much that you could hardly wait to tell him all about your day and how everything's been at school but his dull replies had made your stomach churn with anxiousness.

"I don't know. And honestly speaking, I don't even want to." You wanted to pester him more , ask him why he wouldn't want to come home and see you , why was he giving you a cold shoulder but you kept quiet , ending the conversation with a non reciprocated confession of love.

You convinced yourself that he just needed some space.

On your three year anniversary, you had cried the night away as you could physically feel the end of your relationship coming closer with every passing second. He had called you at midnight and wished you , alright but that was all that it was. The excitement that the 16 year old Jaemin had was somewhere lost to the beauty and glamour of the city and its people, gone with the wind like sand in a desert, despite all the promises made under cloudless night skies and secret phone calls. Somewhere down the line, you'd lost your place in his heart and you knew it.

All you had to do now was accept it.

Jaemin would soon be moving out to yet another city for college and it is only a matter of time till he leaves behind this town again - probably for a long ,long time.

It has become so normal for you to wake up to no texts or calls that it feels rather peculiar when you do receive some. Though it's rare.

Jaemin❤ : Hey, are you free right now?

Me : hey yeah I am. What’s up?

Jaemin❤: Can I call?

Me: Yeah sure.

Your heart had almost jumped out of the chest in anticipation of his phone call , but you knew better than that. The only reason Jaemin would ever want to voluntarily talk to you is because he wants something from you. You were quite familiar with the pattern now.

"Hey, y/n." he speaks into the phone as you sigh in silent relief , his voice having the same affect on you as it always had from the past three years. You miss him even though he's so close by you.

"I got into the college I was wanting to go." He says, a hint of cheerfulness in his usually disinterested voice.

"Congratulations, babe! I'm so happy for you!" You smile. You really are happy for him, "What subject are you majoring in ?"

He chuckles from the other side, "Liberal arts."

You hum in agreement although you barely know what it means.

After a long pause, he begins again, "I will be shifting next week."

"Okay."

"Y/n."

"What?"

"Can we just go back to being friends?"

Your heart shatters into billions and billions of pieces. You'd seen this coming really. But nothing, I repeat, nothing ever prepares you for this.

Until a few days ago, you'd sometimes just lay back in bed and wonder where had it all gone wrong. Was it your lack of patience and understanding or was it just the fact that you weren't as alluring as those girls in the big cities? Maybe it was both. Though no one had said the word first ,you knew your time together was up a long ago. Jaemin was just doing the formalities.

"Okay." You reply. Your voice sounds choked, like someone had wrapped their hands around your throat. You feel suffocated.

"Y/n." He whines upon not receiving a proper response. Had he thought you really had the strength to fight for this already dead relationship anymore?

"What?" You groan.

"Can we see each other for one last time?"

Reluctantly, you agree.

*

The sun is just starting to set down the horizon, the sky changing colors from blue to pink to orange and then red. You see birds fly away in flocks, and insects buzz in the air, as free as the wind.

"I'm sorry." Jaemin whispers from beside you, his head low and his eyes focused on the soft waves of the lake beneath you.

You shift uncomfortably, the wooden boat dock creaking softly under your weight, "It's okay. I kind of expected it."

Jaemin sighs. His fingers play with the hem of his shirt. He wishes you hadn't been so calm about the whole situation. He wanted you to scream at him and force him to not break up so at least he could justify his reasons for the break up but you never do. Instead, you just sit beside him like none of this makes any difference to you.

"Would you come to my city for college too? I'd love if that could happen."Jaemin tries his best to continue the conversation because he feels like this would be the last time he'll ever have you all to himself. The moment you walk back home and he boards his flight to the city, everything will all change. A one eighty degree flip. And though his ego won't let him admit it, he'll miss you. So much.

"I'm not sure, Minnie. I have one more year to figure out." His stomach does a backflip at the sound of his nickname from your mouth. It sounded so perfect, so fitting.

The distant voices of children playing in the park and dogs barking and adults gossiping fills the silence between the two of you. You were never one to be so quiet with Jaemin; you would never shut up when you were with him. You could talk about practically everything and anything and maybe you still could, it's just that you didn't know if he cared to listen anymore.

"Jaemin," you say ,your eyes fixed on the reddish purple horizon, "Do you still love me?"

Jaemin is genuinely taken aback for a moment. What kind of question is that! You cannot ask that to your ex boyfriend, no, never! "Y/n, its not about love. Our relationship has become so...toxic. " he tries to argue with you, his slender fingers slowly finding their way to your hand. Your hand is still as firm and warm as the first time he'd held them.

"My question is if you still love me or not." You repeat , "I am not questioning your reasons to end our relationship."

Jaemin sighs for the umpteenth time today, "I don't know, y/n. I really wish I did but I don't understand my own feelings anymore."

And sadly enough, even in that moment, you loved him a little bit more.

That night he insists on walking you home - out of habit or out of said compulsion, you don't really know. But you try to sketch that moment forever in the pages of your mind.

Your first love, your boyfriend, your first kiss, your first everything. It won't be easy to forget the last few years.

"This is it then." Jaemin announces as you both stand in front of your house's gate.

You force yourself to nod.

"Hug?" He opens his arms in front of you and after contemplating about it for exactly two seconds, you let yourself fall into them.

"We'll stay in contact, okay?" He whispers against your hair, "We are not like other couples, y/n, we never have been. We'll remain the best of friends."

You want to say something but all you do is snuggle further into the embrace. Your very last one with him and you didn't want to ruin it by debating with him.

"Okay." you whisper with a soft smile ghosting on your lips.

"I am there, I always will. Believe me." He whispers back.

No, you idiot , you smile , you won't.

[lit-in-thy-heart]

For the ask game, the scene in marigolds where they rescue Gwaine from the rock and Merlin summons the fucking massive dragon and Pelleas helps them and Lancelot threatens to haunt him if he double crosses them 🤣🤣🤣 ICONIC

dfghjkl ah yes the scene that would have been lancelot clutching adoption papers had his hands not been full with gwaine 🤣

ngl the merlin shouting in the background was actually partially inspired by six days but obviously in a different context (and that scene is also one that springs to mind for you because i still can't, it legitimately had me in hysterics) but merlin screaming in the background whilst other people are trying to have a conversation is something i love :D

i feel like lance haunting people would just be him appearing when they're on the toilet or something and giving them a withering glare. he's not really the type to follow them around with unholy screams and i think that's very original of him

tysm for the ask!!! 💕💕

(the scene is under the cut)

In all Gwaine’s nightmares, it had been light when he had been about to drown. Clouds had formed a shield around him, preventing any rescue, and he had been helpless as the tide had gradually crept forward like a legion, struggling against bonds that he could see but not untie. This, somehow, was worse. The moonlight ricocheted off the water’s surface and refracted in numerous directions, illuminating patches of the sea that left Gwaine completely at a loss as to the vastness of it. Even though he knew dry land was close, the rock – now at a higher level than his head – obscured his view and, wherever he looked, it was all darkness and glimmering scales where the moonlight dipped its fingers into the sea. Wherever he looked, he was alone.

The cold was digging its nails into him and trying to draw blood but instead injecting fatigue and Gwaine, knowing nothing but the certainty of his fate, closed his eyes once more. He relaxed his muscles as his mouth became submerged in the water, diluted salt trickling into his parted lips, his nose only millimetres from joining it. At least Anselm wouldn’t be able to use him to control Merlin. At least he wouldn’t be able to fail Merlin and Lancelot again. At least it would all be over.

‘Gwaine! Gwaine!’

Apparently hearing the voices of the people you loved in your final moments wasn’t just a comforting myth, because Lancelot’s voice was piercing the rolling fog in Gwaine’s head quite successfully. It was odd that he could also hear Merlin roaring spells in the distance, too, because Gwaine didn’t really associate Merlin with violence. Merlin and his voice belonged to the tentative dawn and amongst the chorus of birds that came with it, belonged with the rustling leaves in a gentle breeze and the jewelled grass, not to the furious fire that could take apart whole armies. Just like Lancelot and his voice belonged to the stark sunset and the whispers of tendrils of clouds, belonged with the constellations that covered the heavens in a thin layer of protective dust and the bleeding colours of day, not to the agonised desperation that could cause the sky itself to fissure.

Still, any last thoughts of them brought Gwaine comfort.

There was a blunt shout from behind but Gwaine didn’t react, wanting nothing more than to sleep. His nose ducked below the surface and everything around him became muffled as his ears were cushioned by the water.

It might have been for minutes or years that Gwaine was suspended there, tethered to the rock, before he was hauled from the water with someone calling his name in a strangled voice between obscene swearing.

An arm was wrapped around Gwaine’s waist to support him as he instinctively tried to inhale and began coughing, his whole body convulsing in the attempt to dispel the water. After the threat had seemingly been combated, his legs gave way but he was caught before he could fall and drawn close to a hammering heart.

Gwaine could feel the next words stir within him, transmitted by the vibrations of his rescuer’s vocal cords, as he drifted to the fringes of consciousness. ‘Merlin! Merlin, I’ve got him!’ Something angular dropped onto the top of Gwaine’s head, movement grating against his scalp. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ve got you, you’re safe.’

‘Lance…’M’sorry…’

Lancelot, feeling Gwaine’s body go limp, rested him against the rock, hand fumbling for a pulse in panic. Glancing towards the shore, he could see that Merlin was gradually advancing, his face contorted with rage in the flashes of it Lancelot could catch as flares embedded themselves in bandits. Lancelot had seen Merlin use magic before, of course, but never so violently; from the moment they had broken from the cell, Merlin had been ruthless in the damage he had dealt. The streaks of fire penetrating the atmosphere provided Lancelot with a little visual aid and, satisfied that Gwaine was still breathing, he used his own body to prop up his partner, hands groping for the shackles.

Merlin was going to kill him for discarding his sling – if the pain in his shoulder didn’t kill him first – but Lancelot gritted his teeth and focused instead on trying to free Gwaine. Which, apparently, was going to be harder than he’d first thought. The waves were slapping against higher and higher points of Lancelot’s back and he pushed one leg between both of Gwaine’s to steady him further. His fingers clawed at the iron uselessly, trying to pull apart the cuffs around Gwaine’s wrists, but it was futile. Frantically, Lancelot turned his gaze back towards the shore and latched onto Merlin’s formidable figure, who was in the middle of throwing back the bandit posted to guard Gwaine, whom Lancelot had darted past in the darkness.

‘They’re chains,’ Lancelot cried out when Merlin was close enough, voice cracking, ‘chains, not rope. I can’t get them off.’

Merlin splashed through the water as quickly as he could, fingers grazing Lancelot’s as he examined the chains. There was an explosion of light as Merlin muttered an incantation and winced, his hand going to his chest. He brushed off the twinge and checked that the tether had been severed, glancing towards Lancelot. ‘We have to get him out of the water and get him warm.’

Lancelot was already in the process of doing so; he had laid Gwaine out on the rock once more and was angling his body to drape Gwaine over his uninjured shoulder.

‘Lance, no, your shoulder—’

‘I’ll be careful,’ Lancelot replied, straightening his posture and hooking his left arm around the backs of Gwaine’s knees. ‘Unless you have a better solution?’

‘I’ll take him.’

‘Over my dead body,’ was the sharp response. ‘You’re not meant to be lifting heavy objects and I’m pretty sure a human body comes under the category of “heavy objects”. Do you still have the cloak?’ Lancelot added as he began to wade back to shore, nervously keeping an eye on the castle’s silhouette.

Following the knight, Merlin untied the cloak from his waist. ‘I can do a drying spell,’ he offered. ‘I don’t know how much it will help, but anything is better than nothing, right?’

With a nod, Lancelot spun around when his boots made contact with dry land and watched Merlin place a hand on Gwaine’s exposed back. His eyes shone and, as they faded, he arranged the cloak over Gwaine’s form. Lancelot trapped the material between his hand and Gwaine’s legs, looking towards the castle again. ‘It’s not going to take them long to figure out where we’ve gone. And Gwaine took more blows than he can probably handle back in the throne room…’

Lancelot broke off before he added to his panic by recalling the images that had shot by only moments before – of Gwaine seemingly lifeless in the water, his slurred speech, his helplessness. This was the second time in just over a fortnight that Lancelot had felt his heart contract with terror at the sight of Gwaine’s lifeless form, but he was no less used to it. Stilling for a moment, Lancelot registered the faint sound of Gwaine breathing and relaxed slightly. They had to get him to Camelot.

Merlin’s hand was resting on his uninjured shoulder. ‘It’s alright. I’ve got an idea. We need to start moving towards the mainland.’

‘It’s not something stupid or dangerous, is it?’

‘Not for us,’ Merlin assured him, giving Lancelot’s shoulder a small squeeze. He kissed him gently before dropping a kiss in the midst of Gwaine’s now-dry hair. ‘We’re going to be okay. Start moving. I’ll catch up.’

Lights – pinpricks of bronze blood against the night sky – were eddying towards them from the direction of the castle. ‘Merlin—’

Merlin pushed his shoulder. ‘I’ll be fine. Go. Get Gwaine to safety.’

Hesitating momentarily, Lancelot started forwards as the lights behind them expanded. With his right arm hanging limply by his side, he contracted the muscles in his left arm to more firmly support Gwaine and glanced over his shoulder. Merlin had turned away and stood with his legs slightly apart, his head tilted towards the sky. The words that emerged from his mouth reached Lancelot clearly, but that didn’t help him decipher their meaning.

'O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!’

Although, picking up on the word ‘drakon’, Lancelot could hazard a guess as to what would be involved. Merlin repeated the phrase, more insistently this time, and the guttural quality to the syllables that stretched over Merlin’s tongue sent Lancelot’s skin erupting into goosebumps.

He turned his mouth towards Gwaine’s motionless body, the faint smile grazing the muscles concealed by the cloak. ‘Gwaine,’ he whispered, ‘you are going to kick yourself later for missing this.’ It might have been his imagination, but Gwaine seemed to shift slightly against him. ‘But don’t worry, my love, I’ll tell you all about it when you’re better.’ He paused before pressing a kiss to the cloak. ‘Rest well, now, my love, it’s all going to be fine, I promise you.’

Raising his head, Lancelot looked back at Merlin, who was still standing stubbornly in the place that he’d been left. He was also still shouting and didn’t notice a figure streak past until they were halfway towards Lancelot. Breaking off his call, Merlin fired a ball of flames at the figure but they swerved to the side and stumbled to a halt beside Lancelot, who had ceased all movement.

Reflexively, Lancelot reached down and removed the knife Gwaine had given him from his boot, biting down on his lip to avoid crying out, and held it out. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ he threatened.

‘Put the knife down, I’m here to help you.’

Still holding the knife, Lancelot squinted at the tangled hair. ‘You’re the one Gwaine had to fight. You were going to kill him.’

‘Anselm would have killed me.’ The bandit let out an impatient noise. ‘Look, I don’t know what batshit thing your friend is doing over there, but whatever it is, it’s only going to hold the others off for so long. And you can’t carry Gwaine by yourself.’

Desperately, Lancelot looked between the bandit and Merlin. Finally, he shoved the knife back in his boot. ‘Fine. But if you hand us over to Anselm, I will haunt you so hard—’

‘I’m not going to hand you over to Anselm. Gwaine told me to get out if I could, so I thought I’d take advantage of the chaos you caused. Give him here.’

With a grunt, Lancelot lowered Gwaine and draped one of his arms over his shoulder, motioning for the bandit to support the other side. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Pelleas.’

Lancelot took a step forward. ‘Right, Pelleas, we’re heading in the direction called as-far-the-fuck-away-from-here-as-possible. Merlin said he’d catch up with us, and I trust him—’

‘Merlin?’

Lancelot silently swore. ‘Did I say Merlin? I meant Will. Will said he’d catch up with us—’

‘Is that a dragon?’

Lifting his head, Lancelot watched as the stars were obscured by a large mass before a creature landed beside Merlin and was unable to conceal a smile. ‘A fucking massive dragon, I think.’

Pelleas frowned at him. ‘There’s a difference?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The smile on Lancelot’s face faded as a strong stream of fire issued from the dragon’s jaw, directed at the bandits approaching Merlin. ‘Thank you for your assistance, but we’ll be able to take it from here. And, if you want my advice, run as far away from here as fast as possible and don’t look back. And breathe a word about Mer—Will to anyone—’

‘I won’t,’ Pelleas hurriedly said. ‘I won’t.’ He ducked out from beneath Gwaine’s arm. ‘If—If Gwaine wakes, tell him I forgive him.’

With that, Pelleas melted into the darkness.

Lancelot tried not to think too hard about the ‘if’. Merlin was running towards them and Lancelot hoisted Gwaine up, their cheeks brushing together. ‘No pressure, my love, but it would be really helpful if you could wake up right about now. I’ve never had to mount a dragon before—’ Lancelot waited for an interjection in the form of a dick joke, but it didn’t come. ‘Well, not a real dragon, because Merlin’s magnificence doesn’t count.’ He paused again. ‘I can’t believe that I’m making dick jokes and you’re too unconscious to make note of it. Anyway, I’ve never had to mount a dragon before, let alone with an unconscious knight relying on me. So, if you could wake up…’

As he moved his ear to Gwaine’s mouth to check that breath was still hitting his cheek, weak words were shaped by the breeze. ‘’S’my method. Humour‘s a d’fense mech’nism.’

Lancelot drew his face away. ‘Yeah, well, you weren’t around to use it.’

‘Right here, ‘n’t I?’ Gwaine struggled to open his eyes: the lids flickered but remained steadfastly closed. ‘Right though. Mer’in does have a dr’gon dick.’

Laughing as tears collected in the corners of his eyes, Lancelot shook his head. ‘I can’t believe all it took was a dick joke to revive you.’ He pressed his lips to Gwaine’s forehead. ‘I fucking love you, you know that? And it’s all going to be okay. We’re going to get you back home and patched up and everything is going to be fine and no harm is ever going to come to you again and—’

‘Lance…’

Whatever Gwaine was about to say, though, was interrupted by Merlin’s arrival as he skidded to a halt in front of them, one hand on his chest with the other holding an orb of light. In the fragmented illumination, the corners of his mouth were twisted in pain and his breathless words were ragged. ‘Kil—Kilgharrah can take us to the woods just outside the citadel,’ he gasped out. ‘And he’s also helpfully offered to torch the place.’

‘Pelleas…’ murmured Gwaine.

Lancelot buried his mouth in Gwaine’s hairline. ‘Pelleas got out, my love, it’s alright. Save your strength.’ Catching the start of Pelleas’s name in Merlin’s tone, Lancelot cut him off softly. ‘Later, Merlin. There will be time then. What do we need to do?’

Sparing a moment to give Gwaine a tearful kiss, whose mouth flickered minutely in response, Merlin turned back towards Kilgharrah. ‘We just need to get on his back. We can—We can sort Gwaine out when we’re settled and secure.’

At the sound of his name, Gwaine finally managed to open his eyes. He was confronted with blazing fires and a very large shape a little way off and, blinking drowsily, he leaned closer into Lancelot. ‘’S’at the fuckin’ massive drag’n?’

‘Perhaps don’t call him that,’ Merlin fondly said, voice just carrying over Lancelot’s reminder of what he had just said to Gwaine. ‘His name is Kilgharrah and he is the last dragon.’

[bakutae]

haikyuu headcanons #1

today's menu:

a platter of sugawara koushi, drop of kei tsukishima, dash of tobio kageyama and sprinkle of tadashi yamaguchi

scenario:

taking care of you during your period

author’s note:

i hope this will be the last time i’m reposting any of my works because of tumblr shadowbanning me but i’ll try having a lot of tags which ky @hanniejji​ recommended me having

sugawara koushi

'baby do you need help?'

you're preparing meals? 'baby do you need help?'

you're trying to get out of bed? 'baby do you need help?'

even when you're on the goddamn toilet trying to give birth through your butt? 'baby do you need help?'

he just loves you too much to let you do anything alone (￣Д￣)ﾉ

he's just really really mother husband material, period or not

he would be very patient with you, through your mood swings and what not, and will never ever lose his temper when you yell at him for no reason

in fact, he'd actually find you yelling at him humorous and start laughing right there and then, which would irritate you incredibly and cause you to scream louder in frustration

it is only during your period that he will get to see so many new sides to you and he frankly loves

but if it gets too much, he just gently wraps his lean but muscular arms around you and you'll stop screaming immediately

cuddles galore!!

he'll lowkey pull you into bed with him whether you like it or not and press his body against yours and uses your body like a body pillow

snuggles into your hair and comments on how good it smells just makes you feel warm inside

he'll end up sleeping in that position so even if you aren't sleep too bad you'll have to stay in that position until he wakes up unless you have the heart to wake him up but who will

honestly, days during your period are just the more chill ones compared to your usual hectic and busy ones with him having volleyball training very often

wouldn't be surprised if he skipped a little bit of training just to spend some more quality time with you

he'll not just ask you if you need help constantly, he'll also follow you around the house cause he's afraid you'll lose too much blood and fall unconscious suddenly

he just doesn't want to find you on the floor half dead let's be real

kei tsukishima

this sadistic boy-

lowkey would tease you during the first two or so days of your period

would ignore your cries for him to cuddle you just to get a rise out of you cause he's just like that unfortunately

enjoys seeing you all flustered and needing him to be by your side

'tsukkiiii come here please i want to hug you'

you even pouted and looked at him with your best puppy eyes as an attempt to win him over

'no'

within seconds the response came that you expected but still felt disappointed regardless

okay, if he wasn't there for physical support, he'd be there for emotional support when you just suddenly burst in tears while watching a puppy getting fed on youtube

'tsukkiii don't you feel bad for the watermelon that was fed to the puppy? watermelons have feelings too!'

he'd be so done with you ngl

but he wasn't that much of an asshole cause he did, after all, love you

he'd roll his eyes, grab a pack of tissue and sit by your side while looking at you with a tiny bit of concern but then again you were crying because you felt sorry for a watermelon

finally, he would pull your head towards his chest and press it firmly against it as he gently strokes your head with affection with one hand, the other one trying to pull out a piece of tissue from the pack

when he finally did get tissue out though, your tears had already soaked his t-shirt enough to see his skin because of the thin material

he'd gently tilt your head up and try to dry your tears

the keyword was try

you started squealing under his touch, saying something about 'being an embarrassment to him right now' and resisted his touch, refusing to look him in the eye

'am i taking care of my girlfriend now or am i taking care of bokuto?'

he just pressed a soft kiss to your lips, though the kiss was mixed in with some of your tears, he didn't care

he'd leaned in for seconds, this time holding on for longer, a small 'smack' sound ending the kiss promptly

that'd do the trick

he'd look at your wide-eyed self with a smirk then proceed to dry off your tears with a gentle touch

and you don't even try to resist him again

tobio kageyama

i lowkey feel like he would be caught incredibly off guard when he sees you on the floor, numb, laughing over some joke that's not even funny

'y/n are you broken? do you need me to bring you to see a... um i don't know where to bring you to y/n please stop laughing you're scaring me'

cue the intensifying laughter

he's mildly concerned and he wouldn't know what periods were at all, despite having an older sister

so he gently pushed up against your flesh, carrying you up without any difficulty and brought you to the bed

'tobiiii, i'm on my period'

'your...what?'

so you had a thirty minute talk with him, explaining to him what a period was and how it was to release the unfertilized egg as blood

he was desperately trying to get out of the room, uncomfortably yelling out 'idiot' constantly, trying to block off your words

however, your tight grasp around his arm was preventing him from executing his great escape plan

'how do i get your period to stop then? does like massages help increase blood flow and decrease the chances of me having a heart attack like this again?'

'well... i don't know about the massage part... but i do know one way to stop my period for around nine months though'

'what is it?'

'you'll have to get me pregnant'

0-0

kageyama.exe has stopped working

'i can't believe you don't know what periods are tobio, didn't you learn it in school?'

'well i couldn't possibly ask yachi to explain to me topics like human intercourse and periods can i?'

'i guess not'

you'd then smile at him, eyes tracing over his crimson cheeks as his gaze dropped to the bed, not looking at you

you threw yourself at him, finding your own comfortable spot in his neck as you pressed a brief kiss to it

'y-you idiot! w-what are you doing?'

'it's called mood swings, tobio, get used to it'

when your period was over, he was so relieved he didn't have to go through all that anymore

until he found you in the toilet, around a month later, a sheet of toilet paper in hand, howling in laughter about how the toilet paper looked like a melted snowman

tadashi yamaguchi

soft boyfriend ™

he had his suspicions that you were on your period on your first day because he noticed the little things you did different that day

he usually pays a lot of attention to you everyday so that day was no different

he noticed how you grabbed the cornflakes instead of the usual lucky charms cereal and he knew something was up

yamaguchi would be such an attentive boyfriend period

yamaguchi knew what periods were but was too shy to speak up to confirm his suspicions

'y-y/n, a-are you on your...um...'

honestly at that point in time you didn't know you had your period yet so you eyed him curiously, raising an eyebrow

he was incredibly nervous and you didn't know why; with his cheekbones colored pink and him not looking at you at all

you poured the cereal in and then reached for the milk carton next to your bowl, eyes still fixated on him

of course, like the clumsy person you were, you spilled the milk all over yourself instead

yamaguchi immediately brought a cloth and a small towel over, cloth to prevent any spillage on the floor and towel that was to be covered over your shoulders as he asked you to change out before catching a cold

pulling the warm towel against your now cold skin, you inched your way over to the bathroom, careful to not make a mess on the way there

when you were taking off your pants, you noticed a familiar faint red stain on the bottom of your grey sweatpants that you totally did not steal from yamaguchi

you cried out in agony as the most dreaded period of the month had come, which resulted in yamaguchi running after you, into the bedroom and peering over the joint bathroom within seconds

'y-y/n-'

his already colored cheeks grew ten shades darker, having seen you in your underwear and sweatpants in your hand

his gaze quickly shifted away as he whimpered

's-sorry for intruding, y/n! a-are you okay?'

a smile crept up your face quickly, staring at him, amused from his timid reaction

'yes tadashi, i'm just having my period'

'i knew it'

'hm?'

'n-nothing!'

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