#so the blanket was lifted up making a lil cave

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hi! How about a good old hurt/comfort whump type prompt like a "this is gonna hurt" or the more fluffy "hey, don't look at that. Look at me". Maybe with Boba Fett or Mando.

Din Djarin x Reader | 1.9k words

Content: Hurt/Comfort, detailed descriptions of pain and injuries, a lil fluff toward the end

Pain, unlike any you'd ever felt before, radiating from the point of impact throughout the rest of your body. That was all you could think about as you lay on the ground, blinking up at the stars and holding on to whatever may be left of your life.

Neither of you had seen the ambush coming, which made your efforts to fight against it that much more chaotic. Din was a trained and skilled fighter, and even he had been struggling. You, whose abilities paled in comparison, had stood no chance. You ran as soon as he told you to, and then within the blink of an eye, you found yourself flat on your back wondering whether death may be the better option.

It was impossible to tell how long you lay there... writhing, sweating, praying. You couldn't even scream, let alone comprehend the passage of time. Even one second of this pain was far too long. When he finally came, you swore you'd aged years.

"Stay with me..."

"Hang in there..."

He repeated himself over and over. Or perhaps your delirious mind was replaying his words over and over. You weren't sure how you suddenly ended up inside of a cave. You preferred the view with the stars, to be honest.

"Din," you croaked out through cracked lips.

You knew was around somewhere; you could feel him in the air that gently moved around you. But it was hard to tell if he was tending to you in any particular way as your whole body radiated. Pain, pressure, heat... it swirled in and out with your vision, your consciousness.

"This is gonna hurt," you heard him say at some point and it almost made you laugh. Hurt. You were well past hurt now, Djarin.

And then the pain got worse. Thank the stars you hadn't actually laughed.

Where before it felt like your body was expanding with hot, heavy air, now it was like an electric bolt was slithering from your leg across every other appendage. You could taste it. There were sparks in your eyes. Whatever Din was trying to do to help, it only seemed to be making it worse.

You must have blacked out. You were opening your eyes again but couldn't remember ever closing them. You felt weaker. The pain was still there, but it felt... hidden? Like someone had thrown a blanket over it, trying to hide it from sight. It was as if your body had decided it could no longer feel something that intense again.

You risked using what energy you had to lift your head. You wanted to see the damage, what all the fuss was about. It was your right leg, gnarled and twisted in a bloody mess. There was blood all over the ground surrounding you, definitely more than should be outside of your body. No wonder you felt so tired.

"What the hell..." you breathed out in shock.

Din was by your leg, alternating between work on some kind of split and adding stitches to keep the blood at bay. As soon as you moved, he immediately shifted over to get you to lay back down.

"Hey, don't look at that. Look at me."

You did, and there was something off about what you were seeing. Din's large brown eyes met yours, full of a sort of strained determination, a warrior's hope that if he just pushed a little more, a little harder, the fight would soon be won. His hair was matted to his head in a sheen of sweat, and flecks of blood - likely yours - highlighted one side of his jaw. It would have been a little hot in any other circumstances. You'd always wondered if he ever looked more haggard than the cool and collected beskar helmet ever let on...

And that's when it hit you. He didn't have his helmet on.

"I just have a few stitches left," he was saying, voice completely unfiltered. "And then I can tighten the splint and that should keep your leg stable enough to travel. The bone will take a long time to reset, but if we can make it to the ship, I can get you somewhere safe where you can heal in peace. I just need you to stay strong a little while longer."

You didn't hear a single word he said. He had a hand clasped under your neck, his thumb brushing soothingly just by your ear. His eyes were so beautiful. They pleaded with you to stay awake, to keep looking.

You were dreaming.

You must be dreaming.

You were unconscious, pulled into an unknown state of being where your mind conjured up pleasant, wonderful images to keep the pain at bay, to keep you alive and sane. That's all this was. Din would never remove his helmet, not even for you.

"Stay strong," he said, squeezing the back of your head just enough to be reassuring. "I promise I'll get you out of here."

Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared and you were faintly aware of the pain starting up again in your leg, but you didn't care. So what if it was a dream. Gods, what a thing to dream of. You clung to the image and let yourself drift away with it peacefully....

* * *

It was strange, all the different ways one could feel pain. Sometimes sharp, sometimes dull. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.

The pain you felt when you woke again was definitely on the colder, number side, at least so long as you continued to lie still. It sucked, but it was a relief from what you'd endured before. Any movement that affected your general hip and leg areas, though, brought those sharp, prickly stings. So you did your best to limit your movements.

The view you had now was of the Razor Crest ceiling. You didn't remember the journey here at all. How had Din even managed? You shifted your hands a little. They were set at your sides and glided along familiar patterns of fabric, your own blankets. He had moved your cot out into the main hull, probably to better tend to you as needed.

Next, you tried testing your voice. You assumed Din would be up in the cockpit, trying to find a medical facility to take you to for better care. But something within you yearned to have him closer, to know you were not alone in this, that everything would be okay.

You could get out a few croaks, garbled groans that didn't resemble any known language. But that was all it took anyway. Din had been right there, just outside your field of vision. He came into view at your call.

He had his helmet on.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he was quick to reassure. A gloved hand laid gently on your shoulder but it didn't squeeze, no fingers caressed.

So maybe you had dreaming after all.

You felt a little disappointed, but that quickly passed now that you simply had him here with you again.

He brought some water up to your lips and helped you drink from it. You winced a few times as you lifted your head and jostled your spine, and therefore your hips and leg. But it was worth getting some hydration and helping bring back your voice.

"What the hell even happened," you managed to string together some words after you finished and settled back down.

Din's helmet just shook slowly, like he couldn't even comprehend the events. "It was all my fault. I--"

"Don't you dare say you should've seen them coming," you warned, knowing how he got with things like this. "And I wasn't asking about the ambush. What the hell happened to my leg?"

"Speeder bike. Caught you right in your side, fractured your femur. Worst bone to break. You're stable now but you'll have a long recovery time."

"Lucky me," you sighed.

"You lost a lot of blood, too," he added.

"Well, at least I'm alive," you offered, mostly to be dramatic. But a cock of his helmet and you knew those words carried much more weight.

"Yeah," he agreed somberly. "It was bad. I was... worried, for a while."

You didn't know what to say to that. If anything, you wished you could be the one to come to his side and provide him with comfort and healing. This whole situation was messed up.

Din sat back down beside you and you did your best to shift your head and keep him in view. He had his hands resting on the edge of the cot and his helmet was trained on them in thought.

"Do you... remember anything?" he asked timidly after a few moments.

You immediately remembered his face. The line of stubble along his upper lip. How his hair curled slightly along his temple. Those big, beautiful brown eyes....

"Bits and pieces," you responded.��

"Anything in particular?"

Now you were wondering if maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. He was acting like he didn't want to get caught for something.

"You really want me to revisit my trauma so soon, Djarin?" you teased.

"No, no, of course not," he quickly backpedaled and you both fell into an awkward silence for a minute.

You finally decided to pry a little further "...Why?"

"No reason."

"Hm." He wasn't giving you much to go off of. This was getting silly. "Well, come to think of it, I do remember something... odd..."

"Oh?"

His hand gripped the blanket anxiously next to you. You looked at his helmet and desperately wished you could see beyond it, to see how he felt so you could know what he wanted.

Oh but who were you kidding? You knew him well, just as he did you. You knew exactly what those eyes would be pleading for you to say, because you knew what was important to him. So you put him out of his misery.

"But you know, it's all so fuzzy. I was probably just hallucinating."

You slid your hand across to rest against his and gave it a short squeeze. He visibly relaxed and that made you just as happy as it would have been to hear him admit what had really happened.

"Okay, good. Um, I mean, that's... that's normal. You were in and out of it a lot."

Din let out a nervous breath but then gently twisted his hand around to hold yours properly.

"Were you really worried about me?" you asked.

He nodded his head slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I was."

You gave a comforting little smile and squeezed his hand again. "Well, thank you, for being there for me. And being here now."

"Of course. This is the way."

Normally you would've rolled your eyes at that, but now it was reassuring. Encouraging, even. In some ways, it symbolized a bond between you that you'd wondered would ever come. You'd been traveling together long enough, fighting together and dining together and making decisions together. Now you were helping each other live. He'd gotten you out of a firefight, pieced you back together, hefted you unconscious across a forest. And now he was staying, right here, right beside you, for no other reason than because he could.

And maybe, just maybe, he had given a little part of himself to you, too. Maybe on accident, sure, but meaningful nonetheless. You would hold that piece of him close to your heart, and keep it safe there for as long as you continued to live.

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[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 58 : Proposal

Mac make his move

Wukong was harvesting the freshly born fruits his trees bore. Filling his baskets with all types of fruits, mainly peaches. His two pups were on each side of his head, sitting on each of his shoulders. They pointed to the trees they deemed interesting, tugging on his ears if he dared to not listen to their orders. Ah. Really his cubs were two lil mischievous devils. Savage saw a tree full of lemons. Her eyes brightened, and her long tail whacked her lil butt. She tugged at Wukong's ear and said :

“Pa! Pa! This tree.” She pointed at the lemon tree and looked down at him with puppy dog eyes. Wukong's heart melted. He couldn't resist this. 

“Alright, firecracker. Let my ear in peace.” Chuckled the golden-furred monkey. He approached the lemon tree and picked the citrus and put them in his basket. 

Once his basket was full, Wukong hauled it in his arms and returned to the cave. Both his pups looked excited. He tried to introduce them to the marvels of peaches but they didn't exactly share his taste. Savage adored everything that was sour while Rumble had more of a sweet tooth. Once they were back in their shack, Wukong put both pups on the kitchen countertop and began to store the fruits. They both looked up at him with imploring eyes. The great sage sighed. Ah. Really he couldn't resist 

“Alright. But don't tell your dad, which one do you want?” Sighed the great sage. 

“Lemon!” Chirped Savage with excitement. Her tail was wagging so fast it was beginning to be all knotted. Wukong chuckled, he took his daughter and untied the knots on her tail. This lil busy bee really had a long tail for her small body. He put her back on the countertop once her tail was all untied. 

“Cherry, please.” Mumbled Rumble with hopeful eyes. 

Wukong took both a lemon and a cherry and cut them into tiny pieces. Both his pups threw themselves on the pieces and happily munched on them. Wukong looked at them with soft eyes. His lil gluttons were so cute. Once both cubs had full bellies they chirped at their Pa, wanting to be on his shoulders again. Wukong easily complied. They were quite clingy today, for some reason. 

Suddenly, Macaque barged in the shack, he emerged from the shadows and pointed at Wukong. “Can you lie down on the floor, please?”

Wukong raised an eyebrow, he saw both his pups giggle and he felt out of the loop. What was going on? He easily complied anyway and lied down. His moon approchead, he rubbed his hands and cracked his knuckles, as if preparing himself for an extraneous effort. 

“My moon?” Asked Wukong with a raised eyebrow. Macaque wasn't going to punch him was he? Did he do something wrong?

Macaque put his tiny hands on Wukong's side, then suddenly he grabbed him and lifted him. Wukong yelped, greatly surprised, when he regained his spirits he realized his moon was lifting him. He couldn't see Macaque, and he wasn't lifted far from the ground, still he was so surprised he didn't dare to move. Both cubs were still on his shoulders, giggling. 

“M-moon?” Mumbled Wukong, he didn't have time to ask further, Macaque ran far from the shack. He passed the waterfall and dived on the mountain. 

Macaque kept lifting him until they reached a lovely mountain side. A blanket and candles were laid there, with baskets full of peaches. Macaque put him there and bent over himself, severely panting. 

“You.. You have been kidnapped!” Declared Macaque in-between pants. Wukong raised an eyebrow. He looked at the lovely setup then at Macaque for a bit before realizing what was going on. The great sage fur fluffed up and his face erupted in red. Both pups squeaked with laughter. The great sage put them on the laid blanket, oh those lil devils were definitely in the known. 

“A-are you..” Stuttered Wukong. 

“Will you marry me?” Asked Macaque once he regained his breath. Wukong sniffed. Gods he was on the verge of tears.

“Yes!!”

The monkeys spent the night here, sleeping under the stars. Wukong curled around his family with teary eyes, Macaque wiped his cheeks before going to sleep and placed a lil kiss on his nose. 

Gods, this was everything he wanted.

+ cut scenes

Macaque : alright blossoms, I need you to keep your Pa busy for the day.

Savage : 🫡

Rumble : We're going to stick to him with all our guts 🫡

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[clawsandpaws-creativearchive]

Don shook water off of his scales as he approached the cave's entrance. A relieved sigh slipped from his beak. It felt so good to finally have all of that dried paint removed. The massive turtle yawned, slowly making his way deeper into the hide. He was ready to curl up in his nest and sleep. It'd been a long long day and he'd interacted with a lot of people. As he made his way towards the pile of blankets something caught his eye, a glint of reflected crystal light. Don paused, mid-step, about to enter his nest. Odd. Had someone been in here? While he was out? Concern flickered across his hindbrain and he lifted his beak to see if he could catch a scent. His nostrils flared. Oh. Oh! He knew that smell. Knew that visitor. Mikey, Smokey, Little Brother. Don's tail wagged as he followed the scent over towards what had caught his eye earlier. A piece of jewelry. He blinked as he looked it over. The small shiny beads made little speckles of rainbow light dance across the rocks nearby. He carefully used the tips of his claws to remove it from the stalagmite in order to get a closer look. It was big, big enough for him to wear. It was his favorite color. It had a science pun! His tail wagged faster, the movement causing something below to rustle. Don looked down, noticing the card. He gently picked it up in his other hand. A happy sequence of chitters echoed off the cave walls. His hands shook, the beads clacking together with a satisfying sound. Don carefully reached behind his neck to tuck the card into the pocket of his shell. Then he returned his attention to the gift still delicately clutched in his other claws. He didn't want to break it. To snap it. His tail thumped as he thought and he turned to walk back towards his nest. He wanted to wear it. To show Mikey how much he appreciated the gesture. The thoughtfulness. He settled down onto his plastron, tail curling around his body. Oh. That was an idea. Don pulled his tail closer, lifting it up. He ever so carefully began to roll the beaded string over the end of his tail, gently lifting it over his spikes until it was sat nice and snug. The charm dangled and caught the light as the tip of his tail wagged in the air. Don purred, so so content, as he finally moved to relax into the soft folds of his nest. He'd have to find the younger turtle later to properly thank him.

xXx Thank you so much @belleyellsaboutturtles for this absolutely perfect gift!! I can't wait to send you yours in return!! Please enjoy some doodles that this lil interaction inspired:

And how I imagined the card to look!!

~ Cadoo 🐾 @tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Bracelet

Mikey walked into the nest, a skip in his step. For the last couple of days, he’d been sneakily crafting a bracelet for one of his cabin mates and new friends! He'd left everyone else in their cabin a bracelet too. Don's was the last one he had to deliver.

The box turtle knew the turtle didn't hang around the cabin too much. It was uncomfortable, fitting his large body into something so confining. Instead, Don had a nest elsewhere in the cave where he could sleep and spend his time comfortably. Mikey had only been there once before, when hunting down marshmallows, and he was happy to discover he remembered where it was.

"Don?" The box turtle called into the alcove as he skipped in, gift in hand. "Anyone home?"

No reply. Huh. He must've come over when Don was out doing something. Ah, well, that was okay. Mikey hadn't handed any of their cabin mates their bracelets personally either. He'd wanted to see Don's reaction to the gift, but he was content leaving it behind for the reptile to find.

Mikey carefully placed it over a stalagmite. This way, it was closer to Don's eye level and easier to notice. Hopefully. At the bottom of the rock formation he placed a handmade card. It wasn't extravagant, but hopefully his friend liked it. It was a piece of white paper, with a marker portrait of Don and Mikey on front. It was a little singed and burned around the edges from a power mishap, but otherwise intact. On the back, it read "From Smokey (and Sparky)" with an orange smiley face.

Mikey stepped back and looked over his set up. He nodded to himself and smiled, satisfied, before turning around and leaving the nest to head back to the cabin for the night. Hopefully Don liked his gift.

---

A/N: So I actually made Don's bracelet irl for @cadoodledoodleydoo! Pictures beneath the cut. There’s a quarter and 7 1/2 inch bracelet for scale reference lol. Don’s a big boy who get a big bracelet 💜 @tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

[dreamersneverlose]

Ten moments where I felt extremely loved that have stuck with me

-Camping with an ex&his family on an island, laying on the beach and stargazing

-laying in an ex's yard with his cat on a sunny day, feeling the warmth and dozing off while listening to content purrs

-Burying my face into my late cat's soft fur while she laid snuggled in my arms, breathing in her scent

-Singing my lungs out with a friend on a night time road trip, trying to stay perfectly still while she fell asleep using my shoulder as a pillow

-When I was harming myself and my late cat came up to me, looked me in the eyes and put her paw on my wrist, making me stop

-When I got drunk on wine and slept with my friend like she was a teddy bear all night, with my arm around her and my head on her tummy

-Letting my cat under the covers with me every night, feeling her rest her head on my leg and knead at my thigh

-Walking around a campground with my friend all night while going through a breakup, her hold me later while I cried about it

-Cuddling with my boyfriend and his cat, breathing in sync and slowly falling asleep

-Reading in my boyfriend's bed while his cat snuggled up to me and slept between my arm and side

[neworleansspecial]

May I ask for Hypothermia from the Eddie Whump Bingo pretty please 🙏 😢 with a sprinkling of touch starved on top with a Lil pining thrown in maybe 🥺 👥

Prompts are open for the Eddie Whump Bingo //

Water rescues are no one's favorite, least of all Eddie's; he didn't have much in the way of big bodies of water growing up, and the expanse of the ocean is still beyond terrifying. Nearly losing Buck and Christopher in the tsunami certainly hadn't helped.

He can't help the apprehension when they pull up on the caverns and tidepools where an adventurous tourist got too cocky and wound up trapped beneath a fallen stalactite that was rattled loose by inexperienced hands grabbing unstable formations for help.

"We have to be fast," Bobby says on the way, "because the tide is coming in."

Fast is usually key, but even more so now as Eddie wades through the rapidly rising water. When he stepped into the gave, Buck behind him, it was nipping at his ankles. It's now up to his calves, and it's fucking cold.

"In the winter, the average temperature of the Pacific Ocean near LA is fifty-eight degrees," Buck says when Eddie visibly shivers. "Cold enough for hypothermia."

Eddie grunts in acknowledgement. He's more focused on getting to their patient, though he keeps the information stored in the back of his head.

"LAFD, call out!"

"Here!"

He follows the voice a few yards deeper in the cave, revealing the culprit: she looks to be in her early twenties, pale face contrasted with the blood on her hands from the stalactite that's embedded itself in one of her legs. She visibly sags in relief at the sight of them.

"Hey there, I'm Eddie, and this is Buck, we're gonna get you out of here. What's your name?"

"Emma," she sniffles.

Buck kneels in the water next to her and pulls the tourniquet from his pack. "Take a deep breath for me, Emma. I'm gonna put this around your leg, and it's gonna hurt, but it's to stop the bleeding, okay?"

When she nods, Buck starts to tie the tourniquet around her upper thigh. She makes a sound at the pain, but otherwise stays remarkably brave throughout the process of it being tied and Eddie taking her vitals.

"She's stable," he reports, "but the water's rising fast, we need to move."

"Copy that."

The water is most of the way to Eddie's hip now, and Emma is just barely keeping her head above water. Buck and Eddie work together to lift her up so they can transport her back to the beach and get her to the ambulance. It's easy to get turned around, but Buck leads the way and they're approaching the mouth of the cave before they know it. However, at that exact moment, the cave gives an ominous creak and a rumble.

Eddie doesn't think. He just shoves Buck and Emma forward, causing them to nearly fall, but preventing the falling rock from crushing either of them. Eddie isn't so lucky. A chunk of the roof of the cave catches his arm bad, and he curses. Before he can move forward, however, the collapse continues, and the light slowly turns to a handful of pinpricks between the rocks and stalagmites and stalactites now blocking his way. Only the light from his headlamp keeps him from being completely in the dark.

Moments later, his radio crackles on his chest. "What happened?"

"There was a collapse of some kind, Cap," Buck replies. "The patient and I are okay, Eddie- Eddie pushed us out of the way."

"I'm okay," Eddie adds. "Banged up my arm, and I'm cold and wet, but I'm fine."

There's silence for a minute after that. Eddie takes note of the water now lapping at his ribs, and the fact that he's freezing. His work gloves are keeping his hands warm for now, but his uniform isn't doing much to protect him from the chill. He realizes his teeth are chattering.

"Hang tight, Eddie, we're gonna dig you out as quickly and safely as we can."

"Copy that, Cap. Be advised, Tide's still coming in from somewhere, and I'm freezing my ass off."

"How high's the water?"

"Up to my ribs, and rising fast. I've got about three feet above my head if I need to tread water."

Bobby pauses, likely to relay this information to the others. "We're gonna get you out. Stay calm and keep your head above water, Eddie."

"Obviously," he mutters to himself.

By the time the water has reached his shoulders, he's struggling to maintain control of his muscles. The shivering seems much more aggressive than it ever has before. He can't remember ever being this cold in his life. However, he can hear voices on the other side of the rocks, and the scrape of tools and rock. They're going to get to him.

Eddie wonders if it'll be in time.

When the water reaches his lips, he's forced to try and start treading water to keep breathing, but that proves to be a real challenge. He tries to let himself float, but as the gentle current spins in the cul de sac the collapse has made, he realizes it could easily carry him right back out to sea.

The solution he comes up with is grabbing onto a sturdy looking stalactite- if there is such a thing- and clinging for dear life while he waits for rescue. Even through his gloves, his hands feel frozen, to the point it kind of hurts. Eddie grits his teeth through the pain and thinks of all the things he's going to do when he gets out of here.

He'll buy Christopher pizza for dinner, and give him ice cream from the gallon in the freezer. He'll call his sisters and remind them he loves them. He'll tell his team how grateful he is to have them in his life. He'll tell Buck he loves him.

These thoughts keep him from succumbing to the weakening grip he has on the stalactite. Just when he's beginning to lose hope, head tilted back to catch the last precious few inches of air, light rushes in and the water quickly recedes. They've broken through the wall.

"Eddie!"

Gloved hands grab onto him and pry him from his perch. He finds himself cradled against a warm chest, which he immediately turns his face into. It smells like Buck's cologne, and even if it didn't, he'd know the feel of Buck's chest, the sound of his heartbeat, anywhere.

"Eddie, can you hear me?" Hen asks.

He manages to nod, but his teeth are still chattering too badly to speak. A thermometer swipes across his brow and he flinches from the press of the metal, but Buck doesn't let go of him. He must be soaking wet, cold, shaking, but Buck doesn't seem to even think of putting him down.

"95.5," Hen says, and a thermal blanket is wrapped around him. Buck tucks the edges around Eddie's body. "We should get him to a hospital, and try to warm him up. Eddie, are you hurt anywhere?"

"He said on the radio that his arm was hurt," Buck says for him.

Chimney eases Eddie's arm out of the blanket and cuts his uniform up the sleeve, revealing what even he can recognize is likely a broken wrist. Hen confirms this verbally, and they get a splint on him as he's brought into the ambulance.

"You can set him on the gurney," Hen advises.

"No," Buck argues, and Eddie can feel the rumble of his voice against his cheek. "I'm not letting go of him. He's cold, and- and I'm warm, that has to help, right?"

No one bothers to make him, so Eddie lets his eyes fall shut. He's safe- Buck has him.

[javisjeanjacket]

Hot Spring - (din djarin x fem!reader)

A/N: hi everyone dont look at me please i just really really really think Din deserves a lil TLC. This is basically a reader insert into CH.10, beginning right after they crash land and wake back up. Originally this baby was a whopping 6K, so if we like it there is technically already a part two i guess. lol  thank you rea for your help!! :)

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: cursing, some steamy exchanges, oral sex (m receiving because he deserves it), cumplay. 18+, NSFW

Neither GIF is mine!

You stumbled through the wreckage of a hull towards the cockpit, the Child crying and afraid in your arms. You held him close to your chin, pressing tiny kisses to his forehead and cooing at him softly.

The frigid air was already working it's fingers through the damaged walls of the Razor Crest.

Din found you before you reached the cockpit, his chest heaving and his arms reaching out for your shoulders. "Are you two okay?"

You nodded and ran a hand over the baby's trembling ears. "I think he wants you." You moved the baby towards his father and his small green arms reached out for the armored man.

Din took him in his arms and then hurried back towards the cockpit.

Being with Din as long as you had allowed you to see him through the beskar, to see him as you knew him to be, not how he was.

The Mandalorian was anxious, his mind whirring as fast as it possibly could to figure out how to repair the ship and get back in the air. Din always felt as if the fate of his clan rested solely on his shoulders. It was apart of his Creed, his religion, his DNA, to provide for and protect the three of you and he always delivered. His world rested heavily on his shoulders and it was in times like these when he slipped into the man he used to be. The man you had met so many years ago, the one concerned only with the next move, the next solution, the answer.

You entered the cockpit to find the Frog Lady exclaiming in Frog, her webbed hands flying desperately around the space near her.

Din still held his adika in his arms as he sat in the pilot's chair, his helmet turning from one side of the control panel to the other as he thought.

You went to the frazzled amphibian woman and placed grounding hands on her shoulders. "Shh, shh." You said, motioning for her to take some deep breaths along with you.

"She needs her eggs, cyri'ka." Din called over the blare of the ship's alarm system.

You lifted your hands from the woman's shoulders and looked towards Din. "Where are they?"

"They were down by our quarters. I'm gonna get started on the repairs." He stood from his chair and walked past the inconsolable woman to you. He handed the baby back to you and cupped your face in his hands, tilting his helmet down to meet your forehead with his own. "I'm glad you're safe." He whispered.

You reached up with your free hand and grabbed one of his outstretched arms. "I'm glad you're safe too."

The Mandalorian let his hands fall from your face and then began to scour the wrecked ship for his tool bag.

You turned your attention to the baby who was now sucking his thumb and had settled in your arms. "Let's find some eggs, pal."

~~~~~

"Crescent wrench." Din said, extending his gloved hand out towards you.

You moved your attention from scrutinizing the entrance to what looked like an ice cave behind the wrecked Razor Crest, back to the tool bag beside you. You grabbed the wrench and handed it to Din. A wicked chill rushed though the flimsy blanket wrapped around your shoulders and you shivered.

Din asked, "Cold?" A subtle hint of worry dance across his voice.

You smiled and nodded sheepishly. "Yeah."

"I'll get you warm soon enough." He said, his tone matter-of-fact.

You looked to him, a playful grin on your face. "Oh, you will?"

Din nodded, his attention still on the damaged ship in front of him.

Making a print in the snow as you moved, you scooted closer to the Mandalorian, moving your hand to rest on the frigid metal of the beskar armor on his thigh. You leaned up towards his ear and whispered, "Show me."

Din stopped his working and touched his chilled helmet to the warmth of your cheek, pulling a surprised hiss from you. "How do you ask?" He whispered, his tone thick and gravelly.

~~~~~~

The Mandalorian chuckled and said, "You should get in. Keep yourself warm."

Your eyebrows went up high on your face and you smirked, "Uh huh, sure. You just want me to get naked, don't you?"

The warmth of the hot spring bubbling in the icy ground behind you made the air circling around you and Din thick and moist with humidity. You could see the speckles of condensation upon your riddur's beskar.

Din shrugged his shoulders. "Well..." He began, holding his arms out in surrender. "Yeah. That's kind of the whole reason we're in here in the first place." He nodded to the blue ice of the cave around the two of you.

You smirked and crossed the space between the two of you, slowly moving your palms up from the armor on his chest to rest over his shoulder. Your body pressed against his and the feeling of his form against yours made you sigh in contentment.

Din's hands instinctively went your waist, his gloved fingers gentle on your goosebump-ridden skin.

"How do you want me first?" You whispered, your eyes searching for where his would be behind the beskar.

Din's fingers tightened on your waist and you could feel his chest grow against yours as he took in breath. He shook his head and you were so close you could hear the parting of his lips.  

You smiled softly at him, his embarrassment making your blood thump loudly in your ears. You bit your lip and began to unzip your coat, stepping out of your boots as you did.

Din's gloved hands took the coat from off of your shoulders, dragging his fingers down your skin softly.

Chills instantly over took you, making the hairs on your arms and face stand up. "I want to feel your hands on me." You whispered before pulling your shirt up and off of your body, throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes at Din's feet.

Din hurriedly pulled off his gloves and steadied you as you stepped out of your pants and socks, leaving you almost completely exposed in the frigid cave. The Mandalorian could see how painfully hard your nipples were against your bra, could see the subtle shivering of your frame, and he felt a twinge of jealousy. Moving slowly, he reached behind your body and unhooked your bra clasp, dragging each side of the garment down your arms delicately.

The fabric landed on the snow below you and Din took in a deep breath as looked over your exposed breasts. His hands reached out for your ribcage and he spread his fingers across your skin, one of his thumbs softly teasing your nipple. The other hand he moved to the rim of his frost-covered helmet and started to push the beskar off of his head.

You cooed at his excitement and said, "Hold on, sweetheart." You turned around so that your ass faced him and, swaying your hips back and forth slowly, you worked your underwear down your thighs, letting them fall to the snow.

Din groaned and reached a hand to caress your ass, running up it and squeezing tenderly, the flesh molding to his grip. "You're so beautiful."

You hummed at his praise and leaned back against him, his hardened cock pressing against the dip in your ass. You moved your body up and down his shaft slowly, teasing him through the rough fabric of his pants.

Din groaned loudly and allowed his bare hands to run across your naked body. He held one of your breasts in his hand as you moved, his grip tightening the harder you ground your hips against his. His other hand moved to your abdomen, his fingers cautiously moving towards your pussy.

You moaned in building desire, and whispered, "I want you in my mouth."

The Mandalorian echoed you, groaning low in his throat and he responded, "Take me then."

A wave of moisture ran through you. You pushed yourself out of his grip and turned around to begin to undo his waistband. You wriggled his pants as far down as you could and ran your hand over the bulge in his boxer briefs carefully, earning a soft groan from the bounty hunter.

"Kneel for me, baby." Din said, his tone darker than usual.

You did as you were asked, keeping eye contact with him as you did. The snow was cold on your legs and you began to shiver. You dug your fingertips in between the waistband of his briefs and started to pull them downwards, but Din interrupted.

"Shit, sorry." He said, pulling you up by your arms.

"What?" You asked, your eyebrows pursed in worry.

"It's cold, I'm sorry, I forgot." He said.

You smiled and ran a hand up his armored chest. "Let's get in the spring then." You turned from him and started towards the steaming pool of turquoise water. You could hear him crunching in the snow after you, so you winked at him from over your shoulder before dipping your toes into the warm water.

The spring felt almost frigid at first, your skin having become so cold it had forgotten what heat felt like. Your skin began to tingle as it adjusted to the warmth and you dropped more and more of yourself into the water. You closed your eyes and dipped under the water, drenching your hair and face in the warm water. You stood again to your full height and walked to the edge of the spring.

Din stood at the edge of the spring, his hands clutching his waistband. "Warm?" He asked.

You ran your dripping hands up his legs and the beskar that covered them, leaving behind a trail of your affection. You took the pants from his grasp and pulled them back down, his dick now pushing painfully against the dark fabric of his underwear. You pressed teasing kisses to his exposed thighs, sending a shudder through the Mandalorian. Your palms moved upwards to the waistband of his underwear and shifted the stretchy fabric downwards. "I'm about to be." You answered, pushing the underwear as far down as they would go.

Din gasped softly when you flitted your eyes up to meet his, gazing at him innocently through your eyelashes.

The sight of him, so hard and weeping for you, made your hips grind against nothing. You moaned and ran your tongue over your lips before taking his cock in one fist and licking a thick stripe over the length of him.

The bounty hunter let out breath through gritted teeth and you could almost see the rigidity in his shoulders soften.

Keeping your eyes fixed on where his would be behind the beskar, you circled the tip of his dick with your tongue and took a little bit of him in your mouth. One of your hands rested at the base of him and pumped his hot skin in time with your lips.

Din's bare hand jerked out to your head, his fingertips pressing tightly into your scalp.

You worked more and more of him into your mouth, not stopping until he pressed into the back of your throat, forcing you to choke around him.

"Maker, fuck..." Din breathed. He rumbled low in his chest and his helmet leaned backwards in pleasure. He had needed this. He had needed it for weeks now, but with the Child and now the Frog Lady there was no safe space or time for you to give him what he needed.

You started slowly, moving your lips up and down him, your tongue swirling around the thick member as you worked. You looked up at him as you began to pick up the pace, spit coagulating thickly around him and dripping to the snow below.

"Holy...shit, cyri'ka." Din stuttered.

His pleasure sent a wave of desire through you, your hips jerking in the warmth of the pool. You pumped him mercilessly now, his hips moving unconsciously to fuck your mouth.

You could feel your cunt throb for him and the pressure swelling in your abdomen forced your lips faster and faster down his member.

Din moaned and sucked in air, "I'm gonna...fuck, where do you want it?"

You hurriedly pulled your mouth from him and left your jaw hanging open, eyes looking to his.

The Mandalorian fucked his hand savagely, the slapping skin making your pussy clench in response. Din growled and gnashed his teeth, warm ropes of cum splaying partially across your face and partially in your mouth.

You swallowed the liquid and opened your mouth again.

Din whined, milky liquid dribbling down from his dick to his fingers. He stopped his berade on his cock, the member still twitching with aftershocks. He let out a deep contented sigh and said, "You look so good with my cum all over you." He held his fingers out to your mouth and you happily sucked them just as you had his cock. You ran your tongue around the digits, collecting the last of his cum and your lips pulled off of them with a satisfying pop. "It's your turn now." He said darkly.

You wiped the rest of his cum from your face and licked it off your fingers before reaching out for his helmet. As your fingers clasped around the rim, the sound of two little feet and two larger feet in the snow stopped you.

Din hurriedly pulled his briefs and pants back up, buckling and zipping with shaking hands. He turned around to face his babbling son and the Frog Lady.

"Din!" You whispered tersely, motioning to the fact that you were about to be completely naked in front of your child and a complete stranger.

The Mandalorian cursed under his breath and wrangled your clothes from the snow. He placed them at the foot of the springs and held his cape out, shielding you from peering eyes.

The baby cooed happily at his father, tottering towards him with his arms raised.

"Get out, mesh'la." Din whispered in a hushed tone.

"I'm trying." You replied, pushing yourself up out of the water and using the side of the pool as leverage.

Din held his cape out to shield your naked, steaming body, his helmet looking from you to his whining son and back again.

Water dripped from your skin and onto the snow below as you worked to wiggle your clothes back on. You could feel a chill on your bare feet and in the dampness of your hair, it's fingers tickling down your neck and under your shirt.

As soon as you were fully dressed, the bounty hunter turned to his son and picked up the upset child, nestling him in his arms. "We should uh, get back to the ship." Din said, his helmet tilting towards you. "It is your turn after all."

You nodded, eyes shifting to the half boner in his pants.

Din smirked and said, "Go, cyr'ika."

Your chest filled with warmth and you beamed at his pet name for you, walking quickly through the crunching snow.

As your clan passed by, the Frog Lady began to remove her clothing, her eggs resting in their incubation chamber in the snow beside her.

You and Din averted your eyes, walking quickly back towards the cave exit.

"The fuck is she doing?" You asked as soon as you were out of earshot.

"How am I supposed to know? She speaks Frog." Din teased.

DIN DJARIN TAGLIST: @anetteaneta @hoodedbirdie @foxrap @insideafictionaluniverse @kirstendm66 @din-damn-djarin @artsymaddie @yougottakeeponkeepinon @oloreaa

 GENERAL TAGLIST: @softly-sad

[flyboytracy]

It’s easter! It’s the final day of Earth and Sky week! It’s Scott Tracy’s birthday! and this lil fic is about none of the above because Scott wouldn’t shut up 👌 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

It’s three in the morning when Thunderbird One begins her final approach to Tracy Island. She always lands a lot more quietly than when she launches but her pilot takes extra care to settle her back onto her launchpad beneath the pool with as little noise as possible when the world outside is dark and most of the bedroom lights are out.

Of course he knows which bedroom light belongs to whom. One room in particular is almost always dark because its occupant lives in space and Scott has to tilt his head back to say goodnight to a tiny little pinprick of light as it blinks in the skies above instead...

Another room is glowing brightly but Scott’s not too concerned because the middle of the night for them is the afternoon for a certain agent of International Rescue and he’s got no desire to walk into another conversation between the lovebirds. He’d stuck his head ‘round the door the last time he’d landed to find Gordon awake at two am and really, really wished he hadn’t. Tonight he’ll brush his fingers over that door on his way past and wonder again what happened to the little kid he used to take to the pool every weekend when dad wasn’t home. When did that tiny brown-eyed boy turn into a man ready to be a family with the woman he loves?

It was probably around the time that their dad went missing, only Scott was too occupied with trying to fill in that bottomless hole that dad left behind to notice all the tiny little cracks and crevasses that opened up too.

Thankfully Virg had always been Scott’s man on the ground since the moment Scott’s feet first left it, and he’d been there to stabilise and fill in those little fractures when Scott was too deep in his own hole to notice that others had opened up. Then he’d toss down a rope and haul Scott out before the sides could cave in and bury him forever like their m…

It’s been a long, long day. Scott’s glad to see that dad’s bedroom light is out, as is grandma’s. It hasn’t been easy for dad to readjust to life on a full sized planet but he’s making excellent progress because he wishes to be the one to walk a Lady down an aisle – if they have an aisle and either of them actually ask the other because the whole marriage and babies thing isn’t something everyone wants these days. Either way, Scott had accidentally overheard a snatch of conversation by the pool last month that’d made his eyes weirdly hot and he’d had to retreat to Thunderbird Two’s hangar to get a grip on himself.

Virg had been there but he hadn’t said a word because he hadn’t needed to. He’d drawn his big brother into a one-armed hug before pushing him in the direction of the giant vats of grease and they’d had a very calming afternoon oiling anything that squeaked on Thunderbird Two.

Scott’s surprised to see his brother’s still awake because Thunderbird Two had her own mission today which Scott wasn’t involved in but kept an eye on nonetheless. Virg was in the exo-suit for hours thus Scott’s surprised to see his room’s still aglow despite the late hour. He’ll check on his best friend after making one other stop first. Alan’s lights are on and if he’s old enough to pilot a rocket then he’s too old for a bedtime, but Scott worries anyway. Troubles weigh more in the dark and his youngest brother carries more than most teenagers his age. Dad coming back into their lives has rocked Alan’s world more than most because the rest of them are old enough to remember Kansas and the man their dad used to be before International Rescue took him from them twice.

Scott can remember when dad was just dad; that giant fella who gave him a ride to Rescue Scouts every weekend and took him to GDF airbases even when it wasn’t a bring your kids to work day. He knew the person dad was before they lost mom, whereas Alan’s far too young to remember their dad as anyone other than the Commander of International Rescue and it shows. Alan never got to lay on the roof of the jet with him as stars wheeled overhead and they talked about anything his boy had on his chest.

Instead Alan spent his formative years hearing about the legend of Jeff Tracy and Scott knows he’s kinda to blame for some of that. He built their dad up to be this unstoppable, undefeatable force inside his own mind and Alan picked up on it, as kids do. Scott didn’t even realise how tall he’d built that statue of their dad until the day after they brought him home and the reality of the situation kicked in. Scott wasn’t even sure what he’d expected; part of him had expected to be too late because who the hell could survive eight years in deep space on a ship vastly understocked for such a voyage?

Of course Jeff Tracy had survived, but the reality of that was a father who’d left his children behind and returned to find they’d grown up with Scott instead of him. It made things awkward sometimes, like when Al’ went to his oldest brother instead of their dad for advice. Whatever advice Scott gave him wouldn’t be the same advice dad gave him because Scott’s advice was based on the young man he’d raised but dad’s advice was for the little blue-eyed boy he’d left asleep in his bed on the fateful day he disappeared. Then there was the issue that his advice was based on his experiences with his four oldest boys, but out of the five of them, Alan had the most freedom to follow his own dreams and didn’t need to be told what to do with his future. He just needed to know that he’d got the support of his family behind him no matter what.

Scott might not be a fan of all of his little brother’s decisions. His friendship with a certain Mr Berrenger gives him hives, not to mention the way Alan’s newest desire to race cars across unfriendly terrain littered with hazards makes his eye twitch. However he’ll defend Alan’s right to make those decisions, and then go bother Virgil until the big guy installs VTOLs or something in Alan’s car that’ll keep him out of danger.

In the mean time, Scott treads heavily down the corridor, smiling to himself when Gordon’s light briefly flickers out. Alan’s light remains on, which surprises big brother until he looks round the door to find a couple of bodies on the floor. Virgil’s sprawled on a throne of blankets with a little brother asleep on top of him just like the old days when Al’ refused to go to sleep in case one of them went away again and never came back. For a moment he thought they’d both fallen asleep in front of the TV, but then Virgil yawned like a bear and a little figure dressed in green armour went sideways off a cliff and died in Alan’s game. Big brother couldn’t help chuckling at the bewildered “Ah,” and the slightly later “….oh.” when the game over screen appeared.

“Hey, short stuff.” Scott kept his voice down low to avoid disturbing their youngest brother as he crouched, sliding an arm beneath Alan’s bony knees and the other went around his ribs before scooping him up effortlessly. Virgil could’ve done the same anytime he wanted but he’d chosen to remain on the floor. It reminded Scott of someone perching on the very edge of their bed to avoid disturbing a kitten fast asleep in the middle of it. “I think it’s bedtime for both of you. Need a hand?”

“No. Maybe.” Virg conceded when he tried to get off the floor only to find his tired muscles wouldn’t bend far enough, “Just leave me here, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Scott just smiled and dealt with his youngest brother first, pulling off his socks and t-shirt so he wouldn’t overheat before tucking him into his actual bed. He pressed a quick kiss to that golden hair just because Alan was asleep enough for him to get away with it, and then turned his attention to the rather bigger little brother on the floor.

“C’mon, HeavyLifter2, I gotcha. Up you get.” Scott reached down for those big hands and hauled him up, not quite as easily as he could move Alan out of the way, but he’d had a lot of practise at shifting brothers over the years. Giving Gordon piggy-backs home from school when it’d been a long day and they weren’t gonna make it back before dad got in. Lifting Al’ up onto his shoulders so he could get a good view of the air displays they used to go to before International Rescue made regular things feel mundane. He’d even carried Virg home one time after he’d taken a tumble climbing down from their tree house and it’d damn near killed him to carry his not-so-little brother all the way back to the farmhouse, but there was no way he’d have ever left Virg behind, even if it was just to get help.

He’ll never leave a brother behind. Dad left them behind and it wasn’t exactly intentional but they’ll be dealing with the repercussions of that for the rest of their lives. He might be home now but it’s not easy to let go of the past eight years. It’s not easy to step back from his brothers to let their dad back in. It’s not easy to just stop worrying when it’s all Scott’s ever known.

“Hey.” Virg rumbles sleepily, all slow and soft like thunder in the distance as they trudge to his bedroom, “Stand down, Scotty. Everything’s okay.”

And Scott believes him.

[summonerscenarios]

Can i ask no 16 hand holding witl lil sal^^

FINALLY GOT THIS DONE. I don’t think I’ve ever wrote a fic for lil Sal before but this one was super fun~! I do hope I did a good job with it!

-------

16. Bringing it to your lips

Your alarm echoes around the bedroom, the ringtone blaring from the speakers at a shrill enough pitch that just about anyone would wake up if only to turn the damn thing off. The duvet on the bed is bunched up into a wad, and for a long moment there’s not a single ounce of movement from underneath it - you’d almost think it was empty if you were looking in from the outside. 

Eventually the mound shifts, rolling to the side as a hand breaches the covers and reaches out for the nightstand next to the bed, blindly seeking out the source of the noise. You pat about for your phone, not bothering to peek out and look at what you’re grabbing for; it takes longer than you’d like but eventually you find it, tapping at where you’re pretty sure the snooze button is a few times before finally the noise ceases altogether. The silence is welcome, and you let out a content sigh, retreating back under your covers and letting your face drop back into your pillow; you’re still drowsy and half asleep, so it doesn’t take long before you’re drifting off again, and you’re just about to fall asleep when you hear a voice calling for you.

It’s muffled by the blanket, which to your sleep-addled brain means you can pretend it doesn’t exist, so you bury your head further into your pillow waiting for it to stop. But it doesn’t, and then there’s something prodding at your shoulder through the covers, followed by shaking - whoever it is is persistent, persistent enough that after a few more shakes you finally cave and unfurl yourself from your covers. 

You lift up the covers with one arm and lift your head, eyes screwed shut in the hopes to not blind yourself from the sunlight blaring in through your window; you hadn’t bothered to close the curtains last night after getting home so late, and now you were really starting to regret it - it’s making your head hurt.

“Whaaaaat?” the words come out as a grumble, only stifled by a yawn as you finally, reluctantly, crack one eye open to look at whoever wants your attention so bad.

A familiar face greets you with an unamused huff, arms folding upon realizing that you’re finally looking at him.

“Ah, morning Sal” 

“Geez, master” Sal’s tone is disapproving as he shakes his head “I swear you make it  a habit to sleep in on important days”

Important; you have to wrack your brain trying to recall what you’ve got planned for today. It’s a weekend so it’s definitely not school, and Shiro hasn’t scheduled any meetups with the Summoners today that you’re aware of. It takes a few seconds before it finally clicks what lil Sal is talking about. 

Oh, right; you had a meeting to get to...whoops.

“It’s fine, I’ve still got time” you offer him a nonchalant wave of your hand before running it through your hair. “Besides, I’ve got a few more alarms set up - I’ll just wake up at the next one~”

“But that’s the fourth one this morning!”

At that you pause, looking over to your bedside where you’re phone’s charging. Sure enough, the time on the screen means that you’ve slept through every single one of the alarms that you’d set. Huh, guess you’d slept for longer than you thought you had.

“Oh...” 

Your familiar hopes this information is just the thing to get you up, you can tell from the look that he’s giving you that he expects you to at least get out of bed at the realization. Well, that’s not what happens. 

“Guess I’ll have to set a fifth one next time”

Saying this you make a grab for the duvet cover and start rolling over again, but the familiar catches you halfway, snagging the duvet with a exasperated noise. 

“Hey, hey! You can’t just roll over and go back to sleep!”

“Sure I can, I’m doing it right now” you tug a little at the blanket and Sal tugs back in return, just as unwilling to let go as you are.

“If you do that you’re going to be late!”

Having a staredown over a blanket with your familiar wasn’t on your plans for this morning, but neither of you falter; it’s actually kind of funny how determined he looks holding your blanket in both hands, shooting you a pout to match the pointed, groggy stare you’re clocking him with. If you really wanted to, you could snatch the blanket from his hands with no problem whatsoever and sleep the day away, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he’s stubborn enough to keep prodding and shaking you until you finally relent. Too bad for both of you, you’re just as stubborn about staying put.

So, time for plan B.

“Fine, I’ll get up”

For a split second Sal grins triumphantly, letting his grip go on the duvet, and that’s all the window of time that you need. In one swift moment you grab the duvet in one hand and Sal with the other, the familiar yelping in surprise as you retreat back into your half-formed nest of blankets and pillows and pull the covers over the two of you. You’re already feeling better getting the sun out of your eyes, letting your head drop on your pillow as you curl up and bring Sal to rest against your chest.

“Iiiin a few minutes”

“Oh no you dont!” 

Lil Sal still stubbornly wriggles in your arms, but that lasts about as long as it takes you to bring a hand up to give him head pats, and it works like a charm. As soon as you start petting his head he just about melts into your arms, leaning into the head scritches; you could almost swear you hear him purring (or would it be bleating?) at the attention. He tries to make another attempt to convince you to get up, but it’s hard to make a compelling argument when you move down to give him chin scritches and run your fingers through his fur, smoothing out some of the messier tufts as you nestle further back into your pillow in a bid to get comfortable. 

When you’re satisfied that he’ll stay put you lift up your hand and crane your neck to look at his face, flashing him a lax grin.

“See? Don’t you think it’s worth sleeping in, juuust a little bit longer?”

Sal gives you a pout, but it breaks down into a grin of his own when he shrugs, grabs the hand you were petting him with and presses it back down onto his head, right between his horns. You get the hint and start carding your hands through the fluffy tufts, occasionally looping around his horns to scratch that spot behind his ears that always has him tilting his head into the touch, bumping up against the palm of your hand.

You’re starting to relax, feeling your eyelids growing a little heavier thanks to the warmth you’ve got the two of you bundled up in, and you press your cheek further into the plushness of your pillow. From this angle you can still see lil Salomon’s face, and he seems to be thoroughly enjoying the affection you’re giving him, his expression a far cry from the unamused huff he’d settled you with when you’d first woken up. He sure can be a handful sometimes (which you’re pretty sure is what most people say about you too), but at the end of the day the two of you were in this together, having been inseparable (literally) since the first day you’d woken up.

You can’t help but think about that day. Really, to others it may not have seemed too long ago, and in a way it doesn’t feel all that long to you either, but when it’s the first memory you have it feels like so much time has passed already by comparison. Sal had been one of the first people in your corner - had guided you in learning some of the things that, at the beginning, had proved vital in your survival within the app - and he had been there every moment since. Granted, you’ve had your arguments, your bumps in the road, and the whole mess concerning the battle for Tokyo, but you can’t imagine not having your fluffy familiar by your side through all of that.

It’s weird to think where you would have been without him; which you don’t really have to think about. You’ve lived without him before, countless lives, and you’ve had too many reminders about exactly how those turned out to ever forget what makes this loop different - if you guys weren’t together, you doubt you’d have ever gotten this far…

A tug on your hand breaks you from your reverie and you blink, looking down at Sal. You must have stopped petting him at some point, as he’s holding your hand with both of his and has his head tilted back to look up at you, tiny fuzzy brows furrowed. It’s kind of funny how concerned he looks - after all, you’ve given him more than enough life-or-death instances to last a lifetime, so you crack another smile.

“Sorry, Sal - Lost in thoughts again, you know how it is”

Saying this you wiggle your fingers in an effort to convince him to release your hand - you’d rather focus on giving head pats and sleeping than entertaining that previous train of thought any longer. Lil Sal huffs but doesn’t let go, dropping his head back down to look at your hand in his grip; you have only a moment to wonder what’s bugging him when he pulls your hand a little closer and presses his face into your palm. 

Your hands are calloused, scuffed thanks to too many days swinging around a sword and getting dragged into more adventures than you can count, but Sal doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Instead, the familiar presses a kiss to one of the marks dotting the skin of your palm, right below where your thumb connects to your hand. You tilt your head as much as you position will allow and watch him with raised brows when he moves to kiss a few more marks, ending just shy of your wrist by the time that he’s satisfied with the job and moves his face away from your hand, looking back up at you with a proud grin. 

You can’t help but mirror the action, laughing as you tug the familiar closer, burying him back against your chest as you use the hand he was previously holding to ruffle his hair. Sal flails his arms with a whine,making a half-hearted complaint about you being so rough before snickering when you snuggle closer, continuing to pet the familiar bundled in your arms.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

With a Heart of Scars Chapter 9

The biggest thanks to @dreamer-247re for creating incredible art for this chapter. It’s stunning and gorgeous and still takes my breath away every time I look at it! 

This one’s Damian’s POV again, and I hope you guys enjoy it <3

AO3 Link 

~

The moment Grayson dropped into the building the connection to his comm went silent, and nothing Damian tried could get it to turn back on. He suspected some kind of interference, if people had been trapped in that building for hours, something was blocking their phone signals, and that same something was probably interrupting their comm line as well. Not that either of them had thought of that before Grayson entered.

A stupid miscalculation on Damian's part. One he would not repeat again. 

Damian found an external camera he could hack, and caught sight of a hooded figure whose shape was roughly the same as that of one of the people who had set up the strange twister game. The person was fiddling with something blocky that Damian couldn’t quite make out, before pressing it to the side of the building. 

Could it be a bomb? A listening device of some sort? He wasn’t sure, and he couldn’t hail Grayson. But, perhaps he could send backup Batman’s way. 

“Oracle, I need your assistance.” 

“Hey Lil’ D, what’s up?” Gordon asked, sounding far too bright for this hour, and curious. 

He ignored the outrageous nickname usage, “Are the Birds close to the downtown shopping district?” 

“Batgirl and Black Bat are currently stowed away on a ship, getting ready to turn it around. Why?” 

“Tt, Batman is in need of backup. There are unknown hostiles approaching him and a possible bomb threat, but I cannot contact him.” 

“I’ll give it a shot on my end. Is Tim home yet? Can he head out?” 

Damian ground his teeth. No his brother, and Grayson’s supposed partner, had not returned yet. If he had, he had not made it known to any of them. There was no one to back Batman up. No one but Damian himself. 

He shoved aside all thoughts of possible punishment for going out without permission, and pushed his chair away from the desk. 

“No. He is not.” Damian stood, “It seems it is up to me to handle the situation. Oracle, stay on this line so that when Pennyworth comes down you can inform him of the situation.” 

He looked down at himself and frowned. He was wearing a brightly colored shirt Pennyworth had purchased him, featuring a cartoon dog on the front. There was no way he could rescue Batman in that. 

He hurried to the lockers and grabbed the first dark thing he could find, a black hoodie. It turned out to not be solid, but had a Nightwing emblem splashed across the front. The sleeves were also too long, but Damian easily rolled those up, before tugging the hood over his hair. Then he grabbed an extra domino mask and affixed it to his face. Lastly, he grabbed one of Drake’s Robin belts. Grayson had made Damian take inventory of the belt a number of times to get familiar with its contents, and he was confident it was small enough to fit him. It also would have medical supplies and weapons to defend himself if the situation called for it. He didn’t bother changing out of his black jeans or tennis shoes, both would do fine for the rescue mission. 

Through his quick change, he ignored Oracle’s requests for more information, and demands that he stay right there and send Alfred instead. Damian respected Pennyworth, but he didn’t want to waste time. 

Besides, this was partially his fault, and he was the only one who really knew how to fly the Batmobile. It would be the fastest way to reach Grayson. 

Damian was quite proud of his achievement. After growing bored of exploring the cave systems, and discovered some of Father’s schematics and future plans to make his car fly and had taken to making those plans a reality. He had even gotten permission to work on it. Grayson had happily supplied not only permission, but any supplies he needed when Damian had asked. He was further encouraged by the fact that the man had come downstairs to sit with him a few times. However, it was Damian's project and he was most familiar with the systems. He had not even had time to tell anyone that he’d actually managed to get it to fly. 

Gordon must have called Pennyworth, because Damian spotted the man hurrying down the stairs as he climbed into the car.

“Master Damian, wait!” he called. 

Damian ignored the request, closing the door, and starting the engine. He felt a little bad for ignoring Pennyworth, but time was of the essence and he needed to get to Grayson. He hoped Pennyworth would not be too upset with him as he raced past the man and out the exit, but he would have to understand just how important this was. There was no time left to dally if he were to stop something bad from happening to the man he was beginning to consider family.

A few meters out of the cave, Damian hit the button to begin the car’s flying sequence. After a brief moment of panic that it would not work, slowly but surely it lifted off, and Damian's shoulders relaxed minutely. Soon he was zooming over trees and streets, and obstacles that would have cut into the time it took to get to Grayson’s location. 

He fretted as he flew, his mind coming up with every terrible thing that could happen, his stomach growing sicker at each thought. Most of all, he couldn't stop thinking about why he was betraying every house rule to rush out and save Grayson. 

When had he really started to care about him? When had it become more than his just using the man to learn more about his Father? He’d come to respect Grayson quickly, that was certain. But this sick feeling of worry was one Damian had only held for his mother on the rare occasion she was late returning from a dangerous mission. 

Damian tolerated Brown and Todd and Cain, but Grayson? He looked forward to seeing the man. Had come to enjoy his smiles, and even put up with his nicknames. They were warm, like a blanket wrapped around his shoulders when he was tired, or a coat on a cold day. 

It was stupid. And weak. And foolish. Feelings like this were compromising, they would get him killed. Make him run headlong into danger without a thought for himself, much like he was doing now. But Damian found he didn’t care about being weak in that sense. It hurt to imagine  not  caring about Grayson. And so he fretted. He fretted and worried and ignored the pinging of a message from Oracle. 

That sick feeling in Damian’s chest exploded into awful panic as Main Street finally came into view and he caught sight of what used to be Wonderland, now a smoking wreck, collapsed in on itself. 

He held his emotions in check long enough to take the car down, right onto the street and bolt out of it. 

“Batman!” he yelled, bolting for the wreckage “Where are you?” 

Damian should not be panicking. Panic made one miss things, it made them sloppy. But Batman had been in the building. It had blown up. He could be--Grayson might be--

No. Grayson would be fine. Damian would find him, and get him home, and he would be fine. 

He scanned the rubble of the building, and yelled for Batman again, his voice raspy in the smoke billowing around. Belatedly he remembered the domino was equipped with some basic alternate vision options, Damian poked at it until it showed heat signatures. 

It didn’t look like the building had caught fire, thank goodness, but there was a large area of warmth towards where the back would have been that radiated out into other areas. 

“Batman!” he called again, vision slowly creeping across rubble. 

He had no idea how deep the lenses would penetrate. Some parts of the rubble were raised higher than others, like they’d all fallen in that direction, while others were spars, bits and pieces here and there still showing the floor that had once been inside.

“Here.” the word was faint, and trailing at the end, but it gave Damian hope. 

He jerked his attention towards the sound, and there! A figure, the heat registering as cooler than Damian wanted it to be, but that could have been the weather or injury or just rubble blocking it. Whatever it was, he bolted in it’s direction, only turning off the filter when he was close enough to clearly see Batman. 

He was on his back, partially trapped under fallen drywall. Damian had missed him on his first glance due to the drywall’s angle, tilted up and slightly against Grayson to block him from proper view. 

“Batman!” He called again, and started climbing over the rubble as carefully as he could without risking dislodging something and shifting the whole pile, “I am on my way.” 

His heart was racing. He was terrified, he realized. Afraid of what he’d find. Afraid of what had happened. Afraid to be too late, even now. 

When he reached Batman, he dropped to his knees to examine him. The most obvious injury was the blood that seeped out from under his cowl. Everything else was hidden under the fallen drywall.

“Batman, I am going to have to lift this, brace yourself.” he said. 

“Nightwing?” Grayson asked, the word slurring, “What?”

Damian looked down at his hoodie and the Nightwing emblem emblazoned on it, “Oh. No, you idiot. It is me. Now hold still while I lift this.”

He leaned forward, and gripped the drywall to lift it. It was lighter than Damian imagined it to be, but still quite heavy. When he got it up high enough, he shifted to shove his shoulder under it to help him leverage it even higher and then away, angled just far enough that his brother’s body was revealed. 

“Scoot back.” Damian grunted.

Thankfully, Grayson seemed to have enough sense to listen. He dragged himself back from Damian and the drywall, moving just far enough that after a moment, Damian let the whole thing drop again with a crash. 

His shoulder ached, but he had more important things to worry about than it. He quickly examined Batman, the suit on Grayson’s right thigh had been torn open by something, and his leg was slowly oozing blood. The wound did not seem to be serious enough for Damian to stop and take care of it now, so instead he focused on getting the man home for a full check up and proper medical attention. 

He leaned over to take Grayson by the arm, “Come, we are leaving.” 

He hauled his brother up onto unsteady legs. Grayson stood for a few seconds before slumping. He would have fallen if Damian hadn’t caught him, still the man was much taller than him, and carrying him was going to be difficult. 

“This is not going to be comfortable, Batman.” Damian said, “But we will make it work.” 

He tugged one of Grayson’s arms over his shoulder, and gripped the back of Batman's utility belt as tightly as he could under the cape to help hoist him up, and then started forward. He was basically dragging Grayson as they moved, and because of that he could not be as careful moving across the rubble. Thankfully, he was not worried about further crushing his brother, so the only real obstacle was tripping or dislodging something so that he fell into a hole. 

Grayson seemed to come a bit back to himself, at least enough to speak, “But  I’m  Nightwing?”  

Damian shook his head, “No, as I explained, you are Batman, I am--” he dreaded having to use the nickname, “Lil’ D.”

His brother shook his head, “No, no, I’m Nightwing. Batman is--Bruce is--”

“Grayson, Father is-- he is gone.” Damian said, “You are Batman now.” 

That was the wrong thing to say because it made Grayson try to pull away from his grip. He was confused, and hurting, which added some strength to his attempts and threatened to topple them both. 

“No!” Grayson cried, “I don’t want to be Batman. I never-- I don’t have to because Bruce is.” 

His attempts to get away from Damian finally succeeded in making Damian slip, a stone dislodged from under his foot, and then the ground disappeared and Damian fell down, then to the side. He lost his grip on Grayson, and landed hard on his already aching shoulder. 

Behind him, he heard rumbling as the structure shifted. He felt the vibrations under his palms as he pushed himself up, to spin and search for his brother. 

Grayson had landed on his knees, and was staring down at the bat on his chest, one hand brushing over it.

“Father is dead, Grayson.” Damian snapped, as he stepped over to lift Grayson again. 

“That is why you are Batman, now act like it and pull yourself together for a moment.” 

Normally, he would not have cared about being so brusque, but even with the cowl covering most of his face the effect of Damian’s words on Grayson was obvious. He looked like a kicked puppy. It twisted Damian’s heart, but he couldn’t waste time on feelings. He needed to get Grayson home, first and foremost. Then worry about the hurt his words caused. 

He managed to drag Grayson off the rubble and back to the car. It took some work to get him settled in the passenger’s seat, but Grayson had stopped fighting him, and was mostly responsive to directions.

It did not take long for Grayson to pass out once they were moving. Damian tried to wake him, but there was no autopilot function build into the flying portion of the car yet --he had that on his list of activities for next week-- so he had to focus on getting them home, and hoping that Grayson would be fine. 

He did phone the Batcave to update Pennyworth on their status. The butler’s anger was quickly set aside for worry, and a flood of questions about Grayson’s condition. Damian did his best to describe it, and estimate an arrival time. 

Pennyworth took over when Damian finally parked. He went from being in command of the situation to following whatever directions were aimed at him, and he did so happily. Grayson had woken again when they moved him from the car, and was now babbling about Father. He was alternating between asking where he was and crying over losing him. 

The guilt Damian had been able to ignore earlier came back at those words, and he felt terrible for snapping at his brother. He felt even worse that he could not seem to muster any grief over his father. Not in the same way Grayson was feeling it now. He was too concerned about his brother. His not quite partner who he’d almost lost tonight. Who had been out because of a Father who was not there. Who was alone because of a father Drake was still searching for. Who was now crying out for that same father. 

He did his best to ignore the strange twist of emotions in his chest and help Pennyworth instead. He collected blankets, lifted Grayson’s head, and handed over bandages as they were requested. 

Damian finally stopped moving when Grayson was at last sleeping and settled into a medical cot. He could not leave Grayson, no matter how conflicted looking at the man made him. So Damian settled in a chair and declared he’d keep an eye on him while Pennyworth got some rest. 

He tugged his legs up, onto the chair, so he could wrap his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees. Somewhere in all the chaos, the sleeves of his borrowed hoodie had slipped down, and fallen over his hands to flop. Damian didn’t bother re-rolling them, but instead enjoyed the way they gave him a feeling of being further wrapped up, snuggled in something tight and comforting.

Sitting there, his odd feelings from earlier returned. He called them odd because he had not had time to pick at the strange ball of emotion in his chest and sort out what it all meant. 

There was irritation with himself over this attachment. He could hear mother’s voice in his head, chiding him and reminding him that love was a weakness. That caring about others only held one back. She was right of course, Damian had thrown all caution to the wind, disobeyed Pennyworth, and Oracle and run headlong after Grayson over a hunch. It had been correct, but even that was neither here nor there in consideration of the danger it had posed. 

The caring itself was another factor Damian turned over in his head, like he had turned the batarangs Grayson had shown him how to sharpen in his hands. Love, or at the very least, like, was dangerous. It was sharp, like the ends of the batarang, and would cut him if he was not careful, but it was also warm, like Grayson’s words had been. Gentle like his hands had felt in adjusting Damian’s grip. Something soft and happy like Damian’s heart had felt at Grayson’s praise. 

Damian looked back down at his brother. Grayson’s arms were laid out on top of the light blanket covering him. One hand was already showing bruising, ugly black and blue splotches where he must have raised them in defense. The bruises flowed down his forearm, and ended in a bullseye on his elbow. It made Damian wince just imagining it.

He released his hold on his legs and brushed a hand across the back of Grayson's palm, considering taking it in his own. Then the man groaned, and shifted, his hand slipping away from Damian's feather light grasp. He swallowed, and wrapped his arm back around his legs to grab his other hand, before resting his chin on his knees to continue his vigil. 

[marvels-agents100]

de la lune et des étoiles

would you watch the stars on a cloudy night ?

pairing: spencer reid x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: none, just big sad

word count: 2,273

author’s note: yay for lil spencey babey ! also, you get bonus points if you can spot the e.e. cummings quote within this hehe

A labored sigh left his lips as he sank into his sofa, feet curling up beneath him. His hands absentmindedly fiddled with one another, his stare reaching no particular point, his mind full. The caving feeling in his chest still remained, even though you had left long ago, the slamming of his apartment door punctuating your stay.

He felt stupid, for a lack of better words. Utterly and entirely foolish. Not only had he watched as you walked away, but he had never reached out to stop you, never called out your name to attempt to apologize. He let you leave, and for that, he was stupid.

Stupid.

He repeated that word like a mantra everyday for the next two months, every time his mind wandered back to you. The ache within his heart was a pain he had grown accustomed to, one that was continuously present, but ignored. His entire being was held together with tape and bubblegum, starting every day by staring at a reflection he no longer recognized. The circles beneath his eyes grew darker every time the moon replaced the sun, his frown turned lower by the presence of the stars.

The sky had always reminded him of you, whether it was saturated with sunshine or blanketed in moonlight. He saw your eyes in every sunset; their brightness and beauty mirrored by the array of colors painted on the heavens by an expert hand. Your smile reflected the day, radiating a warmth that made the sun envy you. Your presence held a comfort that could only be found when laying in a field and counting constellations. 

You were his sun, moon, and all the stars, and every time his gaze reached upwards, he would be reminded of you and tell himself that word once more:

Stupid.

It wasn’t the memory of angry words, or the shrapnel of the final fight that hurt him, it was how empty everything had been since you left. He found himself wishing he hadn’t ever met you, and although he cursed himself for having such a thought, he knew that it was the exposure to your love that made life feel so empty in the absence of it. 

It was far too late when he had realized that he would’ve done anything for you. 

If you wished to plant a forest and watch the trees grow, he would bring a blanket for the chilled night. If you wished to count the stars, he would remind you to begin with yourself. If you wished to dance upon the April rain, he would dance with you, then watch the flowers grow. You could ask him to bring you the clouds that floated above your head, and he would find a ladder tall enough to pluck them from the sky.

His love for you was anything but finite, and a door closing harshly behind your retreating figure did little to negate that fact.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He lost himself, the longer he was without you. You had carried so much of his heart within the gentle caress of your palms, and you held it tightly when you left that day. He wouldn’t ever ask for it back, if given the chance, for he knew that it wouldn’t ever beat in the hands of another. The gaping hole left behind his sternum was a cobweb-ridden reminder of a light he once knew.

Completely and utterly stupid.

The notification reached your phone on a cold winter day, where snow blanketed the ground and the green fronds of the trees now laid within an icy coffin. Your eyebrows pulled downwards as the long-lost name flashed upon the screen.

Spencer

could we talk ?

How were you expected to respond to that? Radio silence had occupied the last two months, yet he still had words to say?

(Y/N)

why

Spencer

please.

The sigh of annoyance that left your lips wasn’t one that was aimed towards him, but rather yourself. You knew you would agree to see him once more, because frankly, you had been seeing him in your dreams since the day you left. He danced along your subconscious without shame, without reserve, and you were acutely aware of his presence no matter how much you attempted to distract yourself.

Getting Spencer Reid to rid your mind was not an easily accomplishable task. You saw him in every polite smile from a stranger, in every laugh echoed from a child, in every gasp of surprise, tear of joy. He was the simple and lovely happiness that encapsulated everyone around you; escaping the remnants of him was nearly impossible. You didn’t have an eidetic memory, and yet your thoughts were stained with everything he had ever said to you.

You cried most over the words no one else had ever heard. It was the declarations of love he gave every time you brought him a coffee, the way he told you a newly learned fact with passion and vigor, the soft confession shared over a pillowcase- every I love you and all the ways he found to say it; they had found a home within your heart, your thoughts, and they weren’t leaving any time soon. 

You had chosen to leave it all behind that day, and there was only one word to describe your judgement of yourself:

Stupid.

The knock that tapped against his door echoed throughout the apartment, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his heart beating. He inhaled deeply before a shaking hand found the golden doorknob, twisting and pulling it open.

And there you were, and you were beautiful.

He took a visibly large breath, for he had been submerged in the oceans of his woeful sorrow, the dark waters of self-inflicted heart break wrapping around his ankles whenever he attempted to swim to the surface. The very same, damaged heart was now beating rapidly, moving with a life he hadn’t known since you left.

“Hey,” he nearly whispered, his eyes roaming your face, taking in every freckle, every wrinkle, every detail.

“Hey,” you replied, voice just as soft as his.

He stepped aside, gesturing towards you, “Please, come in.”

You stepped inside, the familiar smell of vanilla and peppermint tea reaching your senses. It reminded you of the times you would curl yourself into a borrowed cardigan, or when he would take you in his arms while you perched on the couch, or when you laid beside him while he recited a series of sonnets from memory. The familiarity and comfort that you felt within the walls of his apartment managed to massage the tension you carried in your shoulders, a relieved sigh escaping your lips.

You turned towards him as the door clicked shut, your eyes meeting his, the hazel hue shining bright. He always held a galaxy behind his eyelids.

“What did you want to talk about?” You asked, your words presenting much more softly than you intended.

He swallowed thickly, gaze diverting as he made his way towards his couch, “I, um,” he hesitated, “um, did you know it takes men an average of 8.2 seconds to falling love, but an average of eighty eight days to actually tell their partner- that is, if they’re not within the thirty nine percent to confess their feelings within the first month. However, men are also the ones who usually carry a bigger ego, with nearly seventy five percent of diagnosed narcissists being male. This can be accredited to the natural instinct of a protector-“

“Spencer,” you interrupted, sitting beside him. He looked at you with wide, glassy eyes, knowing that he was , in fact, stalling.

“I guess, in short,” he said, then swallowing once again, “I’m sorry, and I’m also sorry I didn’t apologize sooner.”

You looked at him for a moment, noticing how incredibly exhausted he looked, “Why didn’t you try to say it sooner?”

“I just,” he hesitated, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“(Y/N),” a sigh left his lips, “I’ve been going over that day in my head, frame by frame, piece by piece, and I have no idea why I didn’t say sorry when it happened. I realized how stupid I was to let you go as soon as you left.”

You took a deep, bated breath, willing yourself not to cry, “My heart was shattered, and has been since that day. Why did you wait so long to say something?”

“I was scared, I was so unbelievably scared,” he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Scared of what, Spencer?” You asked desperately.

“I was scared that you’d be happy,” he breathed, his eyebrow twitching and his voice becoming watery, “you were- you are- the sunshine of my life, and I was terrified that someone else had swept you off your feet, and you had looked at them and saw a love you used to see in me. God, (Y/N),” he looked up as he blinked away his tears, sniffling, “I know the sky is still the sky without you, but it is so much darker.”

It was your turn to blink tears away, a labored breath falling from your lips.

“Spence, I-“ your voice caught in your throat, and your eyes closed as you tried to compose yourself, “Spencer, you just… you hold so much of my heart,” you looked up, finding his red-rimmed eyes already looking back at you, “I would sit by my window and watch the snowflakes fall, hoping one day we would meet again.”

He looked hopeful for a minute, eyebrows lifting slightly.

“I hoped that if we were to no longer love in this life, that I would find you in the next. Because, even if the trials of our lifetime end up pulling us apart,” you looked into his eyes, “I am certain that our love will eventually pull us back together.”

“What are you saying?” He asked softly.

“I’m saying you’re my soulmate, Spencer,” a tear escaped onto your cheek, “and I know it’s ridiculous, and it doesn’t make sense, and soulmates aren’t scientific or proven- but my God, I look up during the night and the moon reminds me of you, Spence, I see you in every smile and laugh, every cloud and star. You surround me everywhere I go, and despite the pain I’ve felt for these past two months, the only thing my heart holds is my love for you.”

You let a sob slip past your lips, your hand reaching up to swipe away the water staining your cheeks, your shallow breaths attempting to cut through the cries burning in your throat.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, lip quivering as his warm hands rested upon your face, “my love rests in you, and only you, forever and always.”

The floodgates opened, your forehead finding it’s place upon his shoulder as you cried, his gentle hands stroking your hair and tracing your spine. He whispered words of love and adoration into your ear, his cheek pressing against your temple. Your arms wound themselves around his waist pulling him impossibly closer as your tears stained his sweater.

“I never want to be without you again,” he spoke gently, “I love you, I love you with everything I am, everything I was, and everything I ever will be.”

You cycled through bouts of crying, then deep breaths, then low whimpers. He held you close until you had calmed down completely.

“I missed you,” you said weakly, turning your head so your nose brushed against his neck.

“To say I missed you would do little justice to how much I wished you were here,” he said, a small chuckle at the end of his words.

“I never want to forget the sound of your laugh,” you whispered, “or the color of your eyes,” you lifted your face to meet his gaze, your hands reaching to rest on his cheeks, “I don’t want to forget the touch of your skin, the feel of your lips,” you voice trailed away, thumbs brushing against his cheekbone.

He looked deeply into your stare, head tilted slightly into your hand. His fingers gently brushed a stray hair from your forehead, his touch trailing until his palm rested against your jaw, fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him as he leaned forward.

Your lips touched his gently, a warm rush of relief and joy running down your spine. His mouth fit against yours like tow puzzle pieces that strayed from the box they called home, having only each other in a world much, much larger than they were. He sighed as the kiss deepened, grip growing stronger in an attempt to pull you as close to him as possible. 

“You’re all I want,” you said, breathlessly, as you pull yourself from him, lips still brushing against his, “you’re all that I think about- constantly, consistently, continually, you.”

“I will love you today, I will love you tomorrow,” he whispered against your lips, “no matter what we say, or how far we wander, I will love you.”

“God, I’m sorry, Spencer,” your hands tugged on his curls, “I’m so sorry.”

“Just kiss me.”

And you did. You kissed him until you were dizzy, completely intoxicated on the way he tasted. He held you close without reprieve, keeping your body connected to his. And when the night fell, and the moonlight leaked into the apartment, he laid with you and watched the stars, taking comfort in knowing that in all the times he told the moon stories of you, you were on the other side, talking to him too.

taglist:

@quillvine​

[rhabakoli]

Idiots

I’m so great at titles, I can’t believe it.  Just a sweet lil thing bc my actual WIPs are evading being worked on. 

Tagged: @dreamwritesimagines @riviawitch3r @this-is-whump-dammit

**

„It has to be a curse. I can’t explain it otherwise.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier, who has been whining for the last three days. It’s been raining for equally long, and it’s been a bit of a struggle.

Always clammy, always wet and cold; even Geralt had enough of it. But he knew this was just a built-up. There was a storm coming, a really fucking big one. And he’d prefer to be back home before it hit.

“Geralt, do something.”

“What am I supposed to do about the fucking weather?”

“I don’t know, growl at it! Glare at the clouds with those killer eyes of yours!” The wet sound of mud swallowing boot gave Geralt a sense of childish satisfaction. Jaskier was flailing, then cursing, before he quieted and merely grumbled under his breath as he tried to unlodge his boot.

Just a few paces later, Geralt stopped and turned to watch him. It was hopeless. He huffed and stalked over to grab him, lift him over his shoulder and set him on Roach, who snorted unhappily at that. The mare was coloured brownish grey from her hooves to her belly, her tail hung in thick tangles and she was wet down to her skin. She was not yet cold to the touch, but it wouldn’t take much longer.

Jaskier had let out a shriek and now sat astride the horse and looked glumly down at his naked toes. “Geralt.”

He wriggled them.

“My boot.”

Geralt grunted, shook his head. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

Affronted, the bard gasped. “But I like this pair!”

“They are holey anyways.” Geralt made to grab the reins, but Jaskier was faster.

“Geralt!”

“Jaskier!”

“Please!”

At that, he stopped. He was so tired. “Fine.” So he went back, careful not to get stuck himself, and pulled the stupid, rank boot out of the sludge. “Here.”

He threw it to the bard, then wiped his hand on his thigh and clicked his tongue to pull Roach along.

“Thank you.”

**

Night had come faster than anticipated, and they had to take shelter in a farmer’s stable. It was dry, it was warm, it was a nice change of pace.

Their clothes were hanging on ropes strung up in the beams, and with a bit of luck they’d be less soaked tomorrow. Maybe even just ‘damp’. Jaskier was sitting on a stool, a woollen blanket wrapped around his form, as he scrubbed his mud-coated boots, while he muttered on and on about Geralts attempt to leave his footwear behind. “Get me new ones, I can’t believe it.”

Other than that, the stable was filled with sounds of Roach and the sheep munching on hay and the occasional snort from the dog sleeping in a corner.

Geralt was busy cleaning up Roach, determined to get the worst of the dirt off. It would be easier to wait for it to dry, but they’d be on their way by that time and he’d have no time to brush it out. So he was positioned behind his mare, her tail in his hands and a bucket of water between his feet.

Jaskiers incessant nagging was constantly penetrating the peaceful atmosphere and Geralt slowly but surely had enough. He dropped the tail, pushed the bucket aside and snapped at his bard.

“What is you problem, Jaskier. It’s just boots!”

“It’s not just boots, okay. The have emotional value!”

He was still scrubbing, his knuckles white around the brush and his hair falling into his eyes. He wasn’t looking up at Geralt, but the witcher was too irked by the words to notice anyway.

Emotional- what?

“What the fuck?”

“They are important to me, you big lug of a man. You can’t seem to understand that concept, but please let the people who have feelings live them out, alright?”

Hot anger built inside his chest, just for a moment. Then it was replaced by cold, slimy disappointment. So he thought it too. How quaint.

“Pray tell, what is their value then? What have they done to be so important to you?”, he sneered. Jaskier raised his head, defiance written onto his face. “They have stood by me wherever I went for these last years, they have brought me back to you when I thought I had lost you.” 

He stood up, the stool toppling over as he went, and threw them at Geralt.  “They are the first gift you made me, you fucking idiot!”

Oh.

Oh.

Roach snorted and ducked her head deeper into the hay. Idiots.

Jaskier didn’t take notice of Geralt’s frozen figure, he just ranted on. “I am sorry that I have built an attachment to the dead animal covering my feet, but it’s served me well and carried me wherever I had to go, and I won’t have you abandoning them like worthless pieces of rotten leather.”

Geralt was still just standing there, staring.

Suddenly Jaskier felt very stupid and pathetic.

All his fight left him, and he rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. “I just- forget it, I’m talking mad, I-“

“You- you kept them all this time because I’ve bought them for you?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he’d understood, he had to ask, had to make sure.

Jaskier laughed bitterly, lowered his eyes to the floor. “I get if you rather have me go my own way tomorrow. I shall not bother you anymore. “

He startled when boots intruded his line of view, and literally jumped when a hand came to cup his chin and raise his head.

“Don’t you dare leave after yelling at me, Julian.”

“What?”

Geralt was smiling. The bastard was smiling, and now the bard knew why he tended not to. It would be devastating to anyone in his vicinity. They’d die.

It was bright and soft and adoring and sweet. None of those were words he’d ever associated with Geralt, but wow.

He was still busy staring at him, when the Witcher bent down, pulled him in and kissed him. Jaskier flailed, fell against Geralt’s broad chest and let out the most manly squeak to ever be heard.

“Shut up.”

He couldn’t supress a shiver at the rumbled words and went lax in Geralts arms as the kisses migrated from his lips to his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Being grateful for your big mouth, Jask.”

Fingers were digging into his side, trailing down to his ass, driving Jaskier wild. He groaned and pressed closer, his body having a mind of it own. Fortunately, because his actual mind was blown away, empty, like a cave abandoned by all living beings.

“I’m so very grateful that you chose to tell me this. Because it means you won’t attack me for longing for you, Jask.”

Geralt took a deep breath, nuzzled the underside of Jaskiers jaw. “You have no idea how hard it is, to stay sane with your scent constantly in my nose.”

It was less overwhelming than the kissing, but it still melted Jaskiers insides. His brain started to piece together actual sentences, however.

“I was always questioning your sanity, Geralt.”

“Hm.” , he grunted, then pressed a chaste kiss to Jasks collarbone and straightened. He didn’t take his arm from around the bard though, and instead tried to spread out the blanket with one hand.

“You could just let me go, you know.”

Jaskier wasn’t gonna protest much, because- in Geralts arms? Safe, warm and loved? Hell yeah.

“Never. They will have to pry you out of my cold, stiff arms.”

“Creepy.”

“Shut up.”

Geralt laid his bard out, spread eagle on the blanket, softened by the hay below, and settled between his thighs. Jaskier reached for him, curled his arms around his shoulders. “So, you’ve been pining for me?”

“I don’t pine.”

His eyes were betraying his words though, as did the soft smirk on his lips.

“Sure you don’t.”

Geralt ducked, went for a kiss that Jaskier was almost too happy to reciprocate.

A very loud, very close howl interrupted them, and Jask tensed. That sounded way to close for his comfort. Or the sheep’s, for that matter. They grew restless, and the dog had awoken and now growled at the barn door. 

“Was that a wolf?”

Another howl, quieter, lower, answered.

Geralt looked down at his bard and snickered. “What, you wanna tell me you’re afraid?”

Jaskier looked up at him and shook his head. “Why would I be afraid of some wolves when I’m in the arms of the biggest and baddest wolf to have ever walked this earth?”

[duskowithapen]

Day Twelve: Meet-Cute

Fandom: Criminal Minds and X-Men

Pairing: Eventual Remy LeBeau/Spencer Reid

Read on Ao3

Read on Fanfiction

Why Do You Need Sugar (If You’re Already So Sweet)

Remy arched a brow. “Sorry cher, but y’ mind repeatin’ dat?”

The customer – and he was a cute one, with big brown eyes framed by hair that hung almost to his shoulders – blinked at him. “Uh, could I please get two trenta sized café mochas with three extra expressor shots, five sugars, and a pump of caramel?”

“Cher, y’ understand dat’s a total of five expresso shots? In each cup?”

“Yes?” The poor thing looked like he needed about twelve extra hours of sleep. Probably why he wanted so much caffeine. The bags beneath his eyes were almost black, and Remy had to resist the urge to wrap him in a blanket and make him take a nap.

“Alright cher, two heart attacks ina cup for…?”

There was a moment of silence as the customer processed what Remy had said. “Oh, right, uh, Spencer.”

Remy wrote it on the cups with a flourish, processed the payment, and directed Spencer towards the waiting area. “Y’ could stand over dere cher, mais y’ should sit down. One gust a wind and y’ll be flyin’ out da door.”

Spencer just flapped a hand at him with a tired grin. “I’ll be fine…” He squinted at his name tag, “Remy. Just need my coffee.”

Huffing a laugh, Remy turned to the coffee machine, setting it up for the absurd order. Rogue, an ex from a (now) amicable break up and the reason he had this job, sidled up beside him. “Ah see ya met our resident caffeine addict,” she remarked in her southern drawl, “Whataya think of our dear Doctor Reid?”

“He’s a Doctor?” Remy was surprised. The man looked too young, although that might explain the exhaustion…

“Yup, times three.” Rogue laughed when his jaw dropped and continued, “He’s a regular here, so we’re all pretty used ta dealin’ with him all sleep deprived. Dunno what he does, but he sometimes comes in with a hunk of a coworker.” She checked him with her hip as she set up another drink. “Ya didn’t answer mah question – whataya think?”

“I tink he needs a nap,” Remy admitted. “I’m about dis close ta wrappin’ him up ina blanket an’ makin’ him.”

Rogue hummed as he set up the expresso shots. Remy rolled her eyes at her knowing gaze and continued, “And he’s a cute one, alright? Dose big brown eyes’a his are adorable. And if he’s got t’ree doctorates, den he’s gotta be a smart one.”

Another hum. “Well, ah got it one good information that the good doctor’s sssiiiingle!” Rogue sung out as she went back to the register for the next customer.

Remy just chuckled and finished the coffees. At the waiting area, he saw Spencer leaning against the counter, barely keeping his eyes open. He paused. Well, in for a penny… Grabbing the pen used to write names on the cups, Remy scrawled a quick message on one of the cup rings.

Give me a call if you want a better reason to be tired in the morning – Remy (555) 666-9016

Spencer took the coffee’s with a smile, immediately lifting one – the one with his number – to his lips and gulping down the bitter liquid without any regard for the temperature. Remy raised an eyebrow. “Y’r lucky I made dat cooler dan normal, cher. Otherwise y’ wouldn’t be feelin’ y’r tongue no more.”

“Thank you for that,” Spencer said in between gulps – and wasn’t that impressive to watch – draining the cup before throwing it in the bin. “Thank you, Remy. Maybe I’ll see you next time!”

And he was gone, second extra-large drink in hand.

For a moment, Remy couldn’t move. Rogue came up from behind and poked him. “What’s wrong wit’ ya now, Cajun?”

He turned to her helplessly. “I gave him m’ number, on one of da coffee rings…”

When he trailed off, Rogue nudged him harder, “Yeah, an’ what?”

“He dumped m’ number and left with de other coffee.”

Silence. Then a peal of laughter that rang through the café, turning heads. “Oh Remy, what’s it yah say? Po’ boy? Yah a po’ boy, Remy!”

In response, he spun around and stalked over to the creation station, slamming the jug into the milk frother and pushing the lever harder than necessary.

“Awww, don’ be like that Remy! He’ll be back tomorrow – ya can try again!”

Remy did try again. Spencer came into the café the next morning, looking a little bit more aware but still exhausted, and rattled off his order. Again, he wanted two coffees.

“Y’ do realise caffeine ain’t a replacement f’r a good night’s sleep, oui?” Rem asked in concern. “Y’ doin’ okay cher?”

“I’m okay Remy,” Spencer said with a smile. “I was just reading this fascinating dissertation linking insurance fraud to organised crimes, in regards to staged automobile accidents! Did you know that –” And so it went. Remy was happy to listen as the genius started to link previous articles he’s read – “It’s actually quite interesting, tracing the roots of American mafia back to Italy, specifically Sicily, there was this article I found –” and gentle nudge Spencer towards the waiting counter while he finished his coffee.

Remy had barely put them in his hands – writing his number on both coffees this time – before Spencer glanced down at his watch and paled. “Oh no, I’m late for work!” He looked up. “I’m so sorry Remy, Morgan tells me I should be careful of going off on tangents –”

“It’s bien, cher.” Remy waved it away. “Y’ had da most beau look on y’r face, Remy couldn’t bear ta stop y’.”

And there was that blush – a pale red that spread across Spencer’s cheekbones – and a shy glance down towards his fidgeting hands. “Uh, thanks, I – I should get going. See you next time Remy!”

Spencer took the coffees and left, leaving Remy to lean against the counter with a sigh.

Scott, the manager, was on shift today, and he nudged him as he passed. “Think about cute genius’ in your own time Remy. You’ve got customers to serve.”

Remy nudged him in turn. “An’ what do y’ know about cute lil’ genius’?”

“I know that the likelihood of Spencer noticing your number to be very, very small,” Scott shot back. “You’re not the first barista to fall for those big brown eyes.”

Ignoring the way his stomach dropped at the thought, Remy raised an eyebrow. “Should Logan be worried, Scotty?”

Said Logan scoffed from his usual seat near the counter. “The poor kid should be worried. Scooter’s threatened more than once to cut him off.”

Remy choked. “Did y’ really?” He gasped out.

Scott blushed a little behind his perpetual sunglasses and turned away to serve another customer. Logan just laughed. “He tried, but Spencer looked so pitiful that he caved.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Scooter’s right. The barista before you – Warren – he tried to slip Spencer his number. Every time, the kid either lost it, or took it and didn’t notice it. When he wrote it on a napkin, the kid dropped it, picked it up, and thought it was for another customer – he ended up getting Betsy and Warren together.”

Remy laughed and took the cups Scott handed him, putting together the orders on autopilot. “Dat’s one way ta get together.”

Logan grunted and turned back to his newspaper. “Yeah, well hopefully you’ll have better luck, Gumbo.”

“Aw, mon ami…” Remy’s smile was cocky and confident as he glanced over his shoulder, “Remy ain’t da kind ta turn down a challenge.”

[yamithediaperdork]

Dragon’s roar (YGO)

Joey had a sinking feeling in his gut as he was on his way home from work. normally on a Friday night, and a payday at that, he'd of been happy to make his way back to his new home he shared with his loving boyfriend and his semi new little brother, the Kaiba boys, but he'd caught a glimpse of Mokuba and Yugi in a car heading for the turtle game shop. which meant if Mokuba was having a sleepover and it was date night.. "Aw fuck. I'm gonna be in huggies t'night." Joey groaned, getting a look of confusion from a nearby corporate type who was on his cell phone. "Mind yer own business." Joey huffed and sulked. Seto was a loving boyfriend, and spoiled Joey rotten in so many ways. Joey didn't need to walk to and from his security job at a mall, or even needed the job itself truth be told. But Joey liked to be able to be independent which sadly was a concept his loving boyfriend had some problems with. 'Ya would think someone who was taking collage classes and running a billion dollar company would get it.' Joey thought, slowing his walk down now that he knew what was waiting for him. Despite being seen as a cold and distant person by 90 percent of the world, Joey knew that under that layer of ice was..well more ice. but under THAT layer..well OK more ice. But if you dug down deep enough, there was this giant teddy bear that just wanted to hug you and pamper you. literally. and when Seto got in daddy mode, only one thing would get in his way of whining and begging Joey to let him pad him up. Mokuba. There was a reason Joey had been trying to start a Friday night tradition of pizza and movies but apparently Seto had been able to bribe his brother out of the house. 'And now I'm gonna get home and he's gonna have a pack of those freaking pampers out..and how the hell did he manage to get pampers to make diapers in my size anyways?! ...No you know what? I'm putting my foot down this time. I'm gonna go, have a beer, enjoy a few slices and maybe then I'll think about it!' Joey thought to himself, picking up the pace and walking though the front gate of the mansions yard, then slumped again. "...Oh who am i fucking kidding. it's gonna be milk and baby food and crapping myself tonight. He's taking me clubbing tomorrow night now though!" Joey muttered to himself. walking in he didn't even get a chance to call out that he was home before Seto was standing in front of him, holding up one of the thick massive pamper brand diapers. "Pleassssse?" Seto said and gave joey puppy eyes. "..I'm gonna draw up a list of demands and you're gonna cave into everyone of them. but yes. just let me get a shower first." Joey said, wondering again if the sweet and loving and rational boyfriend Seto was 90 percent of the time was worth the other 10 percent. "Deal!" Seto squealed and went to go and finish getting things ready.

Seto hummed and was grinning ear to ear as he laid out the diaper, some boosters, and a cute little outfit for the cutest big baby in the world, thinking about just how easy it had been to get Mokuba out of the house. One little fake rant about how he'd destroy the pharaoh and the like and Mokuba had asked to stay out for the night, tired of the crazy. The servants were given the night off so him and his adorable little big toddler could just cuddle and play and Seto was so lost in his thoughts he missed it as Joey tried to get his attention, till the wet towel hit him in the back of his head. "...really?" "hey, you want a big toddler, better learn ta pay attention." Joey said and shrugged and held up his hands. "...Your lucky your cute you know that?" "excuse me, but out of the two of us here, who's pushing their luck more?" Joey asked and winked, strolling over and then jumping up and turning mid jump to land on his back on the bed. "heh. Ok I'll give you that. Now did you go poo poo or pee pee at daycare today little guy?" Seto asked, getting into character and lightly tickling Joey's tummy. Joey rolled his eyes,he still wasn't on board with referring to his job as daycare, but taking a deep breath he switched on that baby tone that made Seto melt. "I went pee pee in the potty dis many times t'day daddy." He said and held up three fingers as a blush came to his face. "and I went all by myself!" "Oh my! Such a big boy!" Seto praised. "Daddies still gonna diaper you though since you have a stinky present in your tummy tum just waiting to come out." Seto coo'ed and then leaned down and tickled Joeys tummy more. "Who's got a big stinky present in his tummy tum? you do! yes you do!" knowing full well just how ticklish Joey's sides were Seto targeted them next, making the blond 20 year old yelp and burst into a fit of giggles. "ah! No fair! Cheating!" Joey cried out, trying to get free. "Noooo tickles!" "Sorry little guy, But i"m channeling the tickle monster, and you're monster food!" Seto chuckled. "Ahahahaha n-no stop ahahahaha W-wait I'm gonna!" Joey tried to wheeze out a warning between his laughs and Seto realized seconds to late maybe he should of stopped. Of course by then Joey was peeing on the front of his shirt and Seto stopped. "..I uh..had a big gulp on the way home." Joey said sheepishly, poking two fingers together as the flow finally stopped. "...I'm gonna choice to believe that was done to give me the full experience." Seto said and then lifted Joey off the bed, and onto a back up changing mat on the floor.

Joey was mortified as Seto powered him and got him tapped in the bulky white diaper, and found himself sucking on his thumb and blushing while Seto got out a different outfit for him. while his little accident had managed to avoid the diaper, the light blue short-alls and white diaper shirt hadn't of been so lucky.   'Now der's irony fer ya.' Joey thought, slurping away at his thumb. it was a bad habit he was picking up for all the date nights that turned into baby nights and it was starting to spill over to his big boy time. just the other day at work he'd had to claim he'd banged his thumb when busted by a co-worker. it was also a case of irony that even Seto wasn't a fan of the thumb sucking, which was shown as he turned around with a dark purple t-shirt and a pair of dark green shorts and scowled. "What do you think o- Little man! what have I told you about sucking your thumb?" Seto scolded Joey, coming over and setting the clothes down and pulling the thumb out with a pop. "Uhhh dat's good eating?" the diapered 20 year old tried, really feeling like he WAS just a 2 year old. "strike one." Seto said, trying not to smirk, as he reached into the diaper bag. "Thumbs like boyfriends are made for sucking?"  Joey said and gave his best 'I'm so cute you can't be mad' smile. "Maybe tomorrow if your good tonight. Last chance." Seto said and his mouth was twitching badly as he tried to stay stern. "...Little boys thumbs has germs on it and they should be sucking on paci's." Joey huffed and pouted. He just couldn't explain it, but Joey was of the view that hands down, his thumb tasted and felt better in his mouth then any of the many different pacifiers that they had tried. It was a semi holy quest of Seto's to find one that Joey wouldn't have a fuss about. Opening his mouth for the large nipple of the new paci, and noting it was at least black like his red eyes, Joey gave it a few experimental suckles. "well?" Seto asked. 'shit..dis one actually feels pretty good.' Joey thought, though he made a show of it and shrugged but kept nursing as Seto helped him sit up. with the paci in his mouth Joey instinctively became a lot more willing to play along, raising his arms for daddy and letting him tug the shirt on. then letting daddy help him stand and putting his hands on daddies shoulders while he stepped into his shorts, which were then tugged up. Then he sat on a bed of the bed he hadn't of soaked and raised his feet up as Daddy tugged up some white socks with the red eyes black dragon on them and grinned around his paci. "heh, I'm sorry we haven't gotten your red eyes shirt back from the dry cleaners left after last time. I still wanna know how you managed to turn your pasta into a paste and got it all over yourself though." Seto chuckled. Normally a statement like that would of had Joey all blushy, but again, this time.. He just smirked and flexed his arms. "oh i see. and here i am without tickets to the gun show." Seto teased and tapped a finger on Joey nose. Seto held out a hand for Joey to take, since normally Joey insisted on walking (or crawling if Seto triple diapered him) rather then be carried but he just felt all small and little and held out his arms for uppies. "...You..You sure?" Seto asked, grinning ear to ear, and Joey nodded. "...I'm buying the company that made that pacifier." Seto chuckled and lifted joey up and sat him on his hip, a arm under Joeys well padded tush. Joey leaned in and snuggled into daddy as he wrapped his legs around him and gurgled softly behind his paci as daddy carried them downstairs.

Seto couldn't get over the change in behavior from Joey's normal big baby time to this time.  there was no eye rolling, no smart ass remarks.when he'd sat Joey on a blanket on the floor with some toys, he'd gone and grabbed a stuffie of the red eyes and then scooted on his diaper butt, not even crawling, scooted, over to the couch and crawled up and snuggled into him. "you sure you don't wanna play with your toys little guy?" Seto asked. Joey shook his head no and snuggled in more and Seto for a second was worried about melting into good and getting sucked up but the couch's cushions. Seto put on a episode of Lil duelers for Joey and just kept looking at the little guy who was watching the show sure, but also seemed to be getting a little sleepy. about half way though Joey started to squirm a little bit and started to look up at Seto and then at the screen then back up at Seto and whined softly behind his paci. "whats wrong buddy?" Seto asked. if Joey was gonna keep the paci in his mouth this was going to get a little bit vexing to drag out what he wanted all the time, but Seto figured a few minutes of back and forth with the big baby was well worth the price of this cuteness. Joey whined again and then with one hand hugging his stuffie to his chest, he reached up and grabbed left hand and put it on back of his shorts, so his hand was on Joey's butt. "heh, I thought someone hated bum pats?" Seto asked, and Joey whined and gave him a pleading look. "ok ok, patting! don't give me that look again! You made me feel like a monster for not patting right away!" Seto said, half joking. the little guy giggled behind his paci and as Seto started patting and rubbing his butt Joey closed his eyes in bliss and snuggled in as much as he could. "So I guess this means anytime I wanna stop argument with you all i need to do is pop a paci in your mo-" Seto was saying when a muffled fart came out of Joey's behind, and Seto swore he could feel the heat from it. "heh, did you just wanna fart on daddies hand?" Seto asked, and Joey shook his head no, but his eyes were shut tight. it didn't look like his 'I'm so ashamed' face and Seto went to say something else when a second, louder and more forceful fart came out, followed but a rapid fire series of smaller ones. "Ohhh I see. Somebody wants bum pats while he makes daddy a present." Seto chuckled, and Joey nodded. His eyes were still closed but as Seto realized now, it was because he was bearing down and trying to speed up a bowel movement, or in baby term: make daddy a present as soon as possible. More farts now and Seto was thankful for the oder guard in the diapers, though he was still thinking he should of doubled diapered Joey as his hand was getting a little toasty. Joey was staining and pushing, and starting to work up a little bit of a sweat and Seto frowned. "Joey buddy, I know you wanna be a good boy and make me a present, but you can't just force it like this. you're gonna hurt yourself an-" Seto was saying in a gentle voice when with one mighty effort, the back of Joey's diaper started to expand. Normally Joey would of tried to hide, or pouted to use the potty before taking a dump in a diaper, but this time he was being such a good little boy even as the living room filled with the funk of his gift to daddy. The diaper and shorts by extension took on a interesting shape as Joey grunted and pushed. instead of just puffing out like it would normally do, it was making a semi triangle shape as it pushed out, causing the shorts to slide down. '...what the hell did he eat?' Seto thought but kept that to himself even as the smell had him taking shallow breath. 'Ok, no more food court lunches for him. I'm packing his lunch from now on.' As the bowel movement finished up, Seto rubbed Joey's back (he had switched from the boys butt when the lump had started to form and coo'ed softly at him. "All done now champ?" Seto asked. Joey looked more tired then before, his eyelids struggling to open up but he nodded his head. "Ready for a diapie change then?" Seto chuckled, and to his shock, Joey shook his head no. Normally Joey hated staying in a poopie diaper, and it was Seto who had to beg him to sit in it just for a few extra minutes. 'Go figure, the one time he's actually stinking the place up..' Seto thought. "Ok buddy. we'll let you take a little power nap, then change you, ok?" Seto asked. Joey gave a sleepy nod and then shut his eyes, gurgling and coo'ing as he drifted off to dream land. "...Your a toxic little mud butt. but your worth it." Seto said, stroking Joey's hair and smiling till anther loud fart came out into the back of the blond waste filled diaper. "But don't push it." Seto chuckled.

The end

[vydante]

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 7

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: undecided)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Got a lil’ ol’ cliffhanger at the end for ya, haha.

"Summer's supposed to be a time for relaxation, (Name), not a time for working all day and night in your lab."

You swiveled around in your chair and pointed a screwdriver at Pepper, who stood at your door with a cheeky smile. You waved it at her dramatically and tilted your head.

"Correction: summer's a time for me to do whatever I please, ma."

You set down the screwdriver and stretched lazily. She walks up behind you and sets down a bowl of fruits, freshly cut. Your eyes lit up as you snatched up one of the slices and nibbled on it. She ruffled your hair playfully and you reluctantly let her mess with your updo.

"Thanks."

She winked at you as you went to grab for another slice. She whistles as she spun a full 360 just to look around your newly built and furnished lab. It was large but felt homey, with all of the nicknack plastered everywhere and a few couches and beanbag chairs in random corners.

"I will say, I love what you did with the place. See you took my advice with the walls and flooring."

You hummed quietly as you grabbed a few more fruits from the bowl.

She helped you with the floor planning and made a few suggestions- some of which you took, others you didn't. You were originally going to go with concrete floors and walls, but you thought about how it'd look, and well...

"Momma knows best, I guess. Didn't really have any other choice- it was either that," you motioned to the, admittedly, nice looking wallpaper and tiles, "or nothing, and I'd like for my man-cave to not actually look like a cave. Or, at least, better than dad's."

His wasn't ugly looking, not by a landslide. But you did want to have bragging rights over whose lab looked the best, and if you were being honest? Yours is definitely in the lead. 

"I just have to hang up a few more things- maybe have some LED lights on that corner over there, and I'll be done with decorating the place."

"No, you're not. If you want it to look better than Tony's, then you're gonna have to do a bit more decorating than that. Hey- say what, let's go shopping soon- mother-son day. I'll take you out to buy some more decorations, and maybe we'll go eating afterward."

"Oh? And what about dad? You know how he gets when we don't invite him to stuff."

You remembered the one time you took Morgan out to the park- nothing special, she was just feeling antsy and wanted to fly a kite and pet dogs- and he kept making offhanded sarcastic comments once he found out.

'Yeah, watching that movie sounds fun, almost as fun as that time our children went to the park without us.'

'I can guarantee you it'll be a great experience with all of us together- and not just half of the family because excluding them would be rude, right (Name)?'

He wouldn't let it go for weeks, much to both your amusement and annoyance. 

You grabbed a few more fruits before there were suddenly none left. Ah, shoot.

"Yeah, well, he can live without us for a few hours."

She grabbed the empty bowl with an impressed smile. Your cheeks turn an embarrassing pink, but you ignored it.

"If you say so."

You shrugged, doubting that he'll be fine if you two leave without him. It's not like he's gonna hurt himself while you're gone, he'll just be mildly grumpy and sassier than normal once you come back.

She leans over to give you a quick hug before heading out of your lab. She turns around and calls out to you one last time.

"Anyways, I'll leave you to it I guess. Don't forget- family night. 7 o'clock sharp."

"Yeah yeah, I'll be there. See ya."

You watched as her figure disappears behind the frosted windows, and you swiveled around in your chair again for a few minutes in silence before speaking up again.

"Imma take a nap."

"It is in your best interest not to sleep right now, sir. You have a meeting scheduled at 7."

J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice spoke up from above. You rolled your eyes at how formal he made your plans for tonight sound. You clapped your hands dramatically and the lights followed suit, dimming down where only the light from the hallway light illuminated your lab.

"Meeting my ass, it's just family night, Jar."

You walked over to the beanbag chairs- they were too huge to be chairs, but still- and plopped right on top of them. You grunted and shed off your shoes. You grabbed a nearby blanket as J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke again.

"Regardless, Mr. Stark."

You rolled your eyes and snuggled into the beanbag. You made sure to set an alarm for 6:30 so you wouldn't miss the family night and closed your eyes.

"Oh, one nap won't hurt me. Besides, I'm a pro at afterschool napping. Been doing it since '08 baby..."

"What happened in that one scenario, the one where we win?"

You glanced over at your father as he interrogates Strange. Your eyes traveled over to the guardians and Peter, who was watching Mantis do slow summersaults. The sky is burning your face, but you say nothing of it.

Was it always this hot?

"If I told you... It wouldn't happen."

Your father sighs with frustration as everyone else tenses up. Peter was stood next to you now and said something you couldn't catch. You tried to look at him, but you couldn't make out much other than his messy hair. His face is... Blurry.

No, that's not the right word...

"Goddamnit..." Your dad gruffly sighs and runs his hands through his hair. Your attention snaps back to him, and you raised an eyebrow.

... When was his hair dirty blonde...?

Everyone seemingly dispersed, unsatisfied with the answer. You turned around, but they were gone. It was just you and Strange. For some reason, something compelled you to linger around for just a little longer.

"... It's not an outcome I would hope for, you know..."

You raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" You ask as the hairs on your neck standing straight up. Your voice was a bit deeper and sandpaper-like. You hadn't heard yourself- your true self- speak in a while, so it startled you.

Strange's head is hung low and his voice is quiet when he speaks up. His veins are bulging out his head... Are they...

Are they moving?

"... Even if I could tell you, Stark, you'd be one of the last people I'd tell that to..."

While he says Stark, you know he's speaking directly at you instead of your father. He holds his breath before looking back up at you, eyes burning with... Regret?

You suddenly feel your throat close up on you as your hands claw at your throat. You tried to speak, but instead, you choked on your saliva as you reached out to Strange for help.

This... Feels familiar...

"And besides..."

He stands up and approaches you. You feel your stomach drop as he towers over you now, skin bulging out of his robes. It bubbles and moves unnaturally as the world closes in on you.

No... No, no, no...

This isn't right.

This...

What's happening?

He leans in close to your face as he grips your skull tightly with one hand, another on your arm. His face distorts into another face, one that brings nothing but several sleepless nights. Horror races through your veins as his nails start digging straight into your arm. 

You try to claw at him with your other hand, but it didn't do anything.

He starts pulling, hard, on other your arm as you could only silently scream. A sickening snap echoes in the silence of this planet.

Thud.

Your feet rise from the ground as he lifts you by his cruel hold on your head.

Everything hurts.

Your arm hurts.

You can't feel it. Your other hand, the one you can move, immediately reaches over to your shoulder, but only the cold breeze greeted your hand.

What...?

Your vision was getting dark as the lack of oxygen was taking its toll. 

You could only focus on his face as it distorts even more, from the fleshy hue to a sickening wisteria. His lips move, forming words but nothing comes out. You can't make out... What he's... Trying to say...

Ah... The side of your body feels warm, but your body shivers...

It's faint, but the smell of metal creeps in your lungs.

Shit...

Your head is spinning too much...

Gotta... Stay... Conscience...

As you quickly lose your grip on reality, a voice rings through your head and makes your ears throb painfully.

"I..."

It wasn't Strange speaking.

It was deeper, menacing...

"... Am..."

And laced with triumph.

"... Inevitable."

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped for air. You breathed erratically as you tried to catch your breath. You pulled away from the beanbag chair as you had your face buried deep into it. That was probably why you couldn't breathe properly.

What the fuck was that?

You could still feel your heart race a million miles an hour, the blood rushing to your ears almost blocking out a familiar noise.

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

You shakingly look to your side and your phone was there, the flash going off like crazy. You reached over and turned the alarm off. You chucked your phone back down and leaned back into the beanbag.

"What the shit..."

You ran your fingers through your hair and scratched the back of your head as you closed your eyes, trying to get yourself together again.

While you will admit, you were diagnosed with PTSD from that horrid day, it hadn't acted up in a while now, and you hadn't a single clue what triggered it. Maybe it was because you were suffocating from sleeping faced down? You're not too sure.

Either way, you tried your best to calm your breathing and shed the blanket off of you. Your clothes stick to your body uncomfortably and you felt both cold and hot. 

"Sir, are you alright? Your heart rate has spiked within the last 5 minutes and you're perspiring more than normal by 300%."

You groaned quietly and rubbed the back of your head, feeling a stress-induced headache coming on. You glanced over to a cabinet a few feet away and saw a familiar red bottle. You got up, put your shoes on and shuffled over to it and dumped a pill out from it, all the meanwhile grumbling.

"Ugh, maybe I should've listened to you earlier; no more nappies..."

You squinted in the dark laboratory and trudged to the door, bumping into a few table corners here and there.

"Ow... Ow... Ow- fuck."

You finally reached the door and opened it, the hallway light too bright for your eyes. You still hold onto the pill and made your way to your room to make a change of clothes- these ones are too gross feeling.

"God, I hope they didn't pick a loud movie..."

"They picked Predator, sir." J.A.R.V.I.S. piped up, voice sounding suspiciously cheery.

"Ah, seriously? Of fucking course, it's a loud ass movie." You rolled your eyes but instantly regretted it as it made your headache worsen.

While you were still shaken by your nightmare, you pushed it to the back of your mind and hoped that spending the night with your parents would take your mind off of it. 

Somewhere, in a newly built yet messy building, sat two tired men. Around them were piles and piles of paperwork, all of them blurring into a bundle of nonsense that led to only one ultimate end point.

A conclusion that neither of them wanted.

It's been weeks since the incident at the old building. People were reunited, the threat had been eliminated... There are people just trying to get back onto their feet, some are trying to reorganize the world back together, others are helping their community; all in all, everyone's just trying to move on... but not them.

Not just yet.

"It doesn't make sense."

The blonde throws a file onto the pile next to him. More information had come in, more intel, but none of them were helpful. They all pointed to one conclusion, and it was one that he wasn't willing to accept anytime soon.

The other one looks at him with obvious frustration in his eyes. His wrinkles had gotten even deeper somehow in the past few days alone. He could feel the blonde's irritation, and while he would normally tell him to take a breather, he'd be lying if he wasn't feeling the same way about this.

"We searched everywhere. Every square inch of the rubble, the battlefield- hell, even his own house! And what came up? Nothing. Nada. Not a single trace of him."

"He's got to turn up somewhere, Bruce, I'm not giving up."

Bruce lets out an exhausted sigh as he glances over at the holograms, eyes lingering on one a bit too long before he moved on.

'Natasha Romanoff: K.I.A.'

"As much as we keep searching, it's likely... It's likely we're not gonna find what we're looking for... Chances are, he might've..."

Bruce doesn't finish the sentence, already knowing that he was walking on eggshells with the blonde when it came to him, especially after right Tony's funeral...

While they had all healed up to the best of the abilities, in their hearts was where the wounds are still fresh.

"I don't care, I know he's not dead! He... He was just... Right next to me... I...."

"I know, Steve..."

The soldier's shoulders sag as he feels all motivation and hopes slowly seeps out his body. He collapses onto the chair behind him as the faces on the holograms taunt them. While a majority of them had been updated now- anyone who had gone with the snap had come back- not all of them were updated for the better.

'Tony Stark: K.I.A.'

"He's not dead... I just... I just know he's not..."

They all sat in silence. In front of them, while only a few haunts them, one hologram makes Steve want to sink further into himself. 

A headshot of an all too familiar face shines back at them, sharp eyes staring straight into the window of their souls. His lips curled in a smirk, almost sneering at them in their face for their failure. Bruce sighs and looks away as he enters new information under the file.

"It's been weeks, Steve. If he hasn't turned up now... Chances are, he won't turn up ever."

Steve looks at the eyes that taunt him beyond words. It's almost as if he's ridiculing the soldier, and at this point, he doesn't blame him if he was. 

He doesn't look too long into them as the pressure builds in his chest. He holds his head in his hands as he feels Bruce approach him and rub his back in support.

Steve shakingly sighs.

"God... What the hell am I gonna tell Pepper...?"

The text underneath the headshot changes one final time from a soft blue- a blue that has been there since the very beginning- to a deep, permanent red.

'(Name) Stark: K.I.A.'

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit

[frostbittenfemme]

Sick Day

Ironhide is ill, really ill, so much so the mech can’t get out of his own berth. Good thing his partner is a doctor then isn’t it? Lil gift for @x-de-con-struct-ed-x Hope you feel better soon darlin.  Content warning for Vomit? I think that’s a thing. 

 Sideswipe had arrived to start his shift at the workshop however the mech was stopped dead in his tracks when he attempted to open the workshop door. “Locked. Hmm must still be recharging.” Luckily Sideswipe had his own key, unphased at the attempt to keep him out.  Wheeling himself to the cot within the workshop himself expecting to see the weaponsmith passed out in a deep recharge. “Really?” Sideswipe exhaled. Up to the apartment he went, heading straight to Ironhide’s berthroom, knocking on the door. “Ironhide get up! Ironhide!” The apprentice waited, hearing no noise from behind the door. Fine we do this the hard way he thought to himself, barging into the room, heat from the weaponsmith immediately hitting him. “Ironhide? Oh frag." The apprentice grabbed hold of the mech earning him a groan from the weaponsmith. "I'm getting Wild, frag this is bad 'Hide.."

:: Wild! Come quickly to the apartment, it’s Ironhide he’s burning up bad! He's not cooling himself down and he’s barely conscious you got to get down here! ::

:: Sideswipe calm down, make sure he’s not got anything wrapped around him and put him on his side, I’m on my way give me 10 minutes ::

The medic rushing to gather her equipment, rushing out the clinic. “Nurse cancel my appointments I’ve got an emergency and I’ll be out all day!” 

***

It wasn’t even 10 minutes later when Wild came rushing into the apartment. “Any change since you commed me Sideswipe?”

“Nothing.. he hasn’t even said anything... Wild is he dying? please tell me you can cure him?” Panic evident in Sideswipes voice. 

“He has a fever, I can tell you that just from the heat he’s giving off, his cooling system won’t kick in because they think he’s cold so I’ll have to cool him externally”  Wild sighed, kneeling down so she was as close to the mech as possible before putting her servos on Ironhide’s pauldrons. “Apologies my love but this is going to get cold..” She warned, ice forming where her servos touched, she began to trace her digits over his frame, mindful of his spark chamber, causing the ice to spread. Once the weaponsmith was covered she gently shook the mech. “Ironhide, sweetspark its Wild can you hear me? If you can respond please do so.” The weaponsmith giving her the most pitiful and pained look, moving slightly so his helm was closer to the edge of the berth, a pained whine escaping him.

 “What’s wrong with him Wild?”

“I don’t know yet but I’m going to find out, I’m not leaving until-“

Wild was interrupted by the sound, the very unmistakable sound of vomiting. The warm fluid splattering her frame and the floor.  “Did..he just?” Sideswipe questioned before heaving himself, looking away.

“Yes he did, well good news is that it’s just a tank bug. I can begin treatment now.”  The medic looked down to assess the ‘damage’ on her frame as a strained whisper came from the weaponsmith “s..sorry” the first proper response he’s given all morning.

“Don’t worry.. you aren’t the first and you certainly won’t be the last mecha to empty their tanks on me.. besides better out than in, your body is doing what it needs to fight this.”  Her servo rubbing Ironhide’s spinal struts.

“Sideswipe can you please run a cold bath?” She asked not wanting the apprentice to empty his tanks as well. Sideswipe obliged, glad to leave the room, letting the medic get on with what ever she was doing.

The medic grabbed a cloth from her box of equipment, using it to wipe the regurgitated energon from the weaponsmiths lipplates. “Oh sweetspark what am I going to do with you huh?” Using the cloth to wipe off her frame as best as she could and clean up the mess the mech had made on the floor before disposing it.

Sideswipe had returned by then “Bath is ready, he’s not going to be able to walk so I’ll help you carry him.”

“Do I look like I need help lifting him? Just hold the door open.” She ordered, helping Ironhide sit upwards so he’d be easier to relocate to the washroom.

“B-but he’s twice your size Wild! You can’t lift him alone surely?” Sideswipe questioned.

“Oh really?” She responded before crouching down so the weaponsmith could lean flush against her back. “Hold onto me my love.” Ironhide’s arms slowly wrapping around her frame in response. Making sure he was steady the medic held onto his thighs before getting up, the femme giving the much larger mech a piggyback as Sideswipe watched her in awe. “How..? ”

“I’ve lifted bigger.”  Wild replied as she walked to the washroom, ensuring Ironhide was stable as he rested on her frame, trying not to jostle him about while she walked to the washroom. Sideswipe wheeling himself in front of her so he could ensure the doors were open, he wasn’t going to argue with her. “You can help me steady him into the bath, I’m a medic not a miracle worker.”

“You could argue those are the same thing Wild.” The apprentice replied, moving behind the femme as she lowered the weaponsmiths legs, letting him ease himself back onto solid ground before she stepped into the bath, Sideswipe aiding her with the task of guiding Ironhide in and helping him lower himself down, the water helping the weaponsmith relax.

“I’ll go disinfect the berth room while you sort Ironhide out.” The apprentice leaving the weaponsmith and the medic alone as she too settled herself down into the bath. Her main focus was getting him cooled down enough so she could get some medication in his system. Using a wet washcloth the femme began to pat down his frame. “I’m going get you well again okay? I promise you that.”

“..Stop fretting. Feeling better already.” Ironhide managed to grumble out.

“That’s because you’ve emptied your tanks, I’ll give you an IV line of energon rather than risk you vomiting again but for now I’ve got to get this fever down.” Wild replied, scrubbing away at the fuel splattered up her frame. “it’s got the same smell as your oven after you’ve  been cooking for primus sake.”

“Hey my cooking isn’t that bad.. oh who am I kidding..” The mech laughed and then groaned, that hurt, his arms pressed against his midsection.

Wild immediately moved closer so she could examine the area. “You pulled some plating, it’ll ache for a while until it heals, no heavy lifting for a bit, you’ll have to get Sideswipe to help you when you go back to work.” Ironhide grimaced, not wanting to be a burden on his apprentice.

Wild shook her helm, servos carefully working their way over his frame, testing the temperature. “Hmm I’m going to have to freeze you again.” She warned, the bath water running down his plating beginning to freeze in place, causing the weaponsmith to shiver. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her, he was exhausted and just wanted to recharge but he was doing his best to stay awake in the bath even with Wild sending the cold through his system.

Wild watched for any change in reaction, any pain that Ironhide was experiencing would tell her to stop what she was doing, but luckily he was steady enough for her to work, slowly bringing his fever down enough for his fans to kick in and register that he was in fact hot and not cold.

“There we go your processor has caught up with the fact you’re ill now, lets get you out and back to your berth. Think you can you stand and walk?”

Ironhide looked at her as she got out the bath, freezing the water on her frame, causing it to just slide off. “More like lean and drag but I’ll manage.. I think.” He replied.

Wild extended her servos toward him, taking his in hers to aid him getting up and out, catching the mech as he lost his footing. “Careful my love.” She warned, keeping a tight hold on the larger mech, freezing the water on his frame so it would fall off as well, ensuring they were both dry before the medic led the weaponsmith slowly to his berth, letting him lean all of his weight on her. She was just glad he was improving, albeit slowly. Once at the berth Wild lowered her partner down onto it, helping him under the fresh blankets courtesy of Sideswipe before going into her box of equipment, pulling out a pack of sterilised IV line tube, bags of med grade energon and a large sterilised needle. Wild removed the needle from the packaging and attatched it to the IV Line. “You’ll feel a sharp scratch my love.” she warned, taking his arm and ocating a fuel line in between plating before inserting the needle, swiftly attatching the bags of medgrade to the tubing before letting it flow into his system. “There we go, you’ll start feeling better but I’m givng you some vitamin injections because you don’t refuel enough.” 

Ironhide just grumbled tiredly, watching the femme through dimmed optics as she drew up syringes of various liquids before jabbing him several times with a needle, relaxing more into the berth once she had finished pricking him. The femme sat beside him,giving him a  kiss to his finnial. “Go back to recharge my love, I’m here to stay and keep an optic on you” she whispered, not wanting to startle the mech as he was finally relaxed and the most comfy he’d been all day.  Ironhide’s optics finally offlined, his helm resting against the femme slightly as the IV line worked away.

The femme sat there and sat there, observing, listening to the whirring of the weaponsmiths fans as it battled his fever. Removing the IV line when it was completely in his system before returning to her position by his side.She must of been perched there for hours on end just watching and waiting for a change, fighting off a much needed recharge cycle albeit a losing battle, her frame finally caving and relaxing, her optics dimming before slowly offlining altogether.

***

Warmth surrounding her frame caused the medic to stir, her optics onlining for her to find the source of the warmth to be a blanket, she took a moment to realise she was now lay on the berth and her patient was no where to be seen, jolting upwards and scrambling off the berth, blanket knotted around her frame she rushed out of the berthroom, tripping over her own pedes and the blanket, sending the femme for a tumble resulting in her landing at the pedes of the very mech she was looking for. “Ironhide you should be resting!”

“Good morning to you too my spark. I’m fine, honestly.” The mech letting out a slight laugh at the sight in front of him before helping the tangled-up mess that was comprised of his partner and the blanket, unravelling her before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I owe you for.. well yesterday’s events entirely.” he grumbled as he recollected. The medic huffed and shook her helm smile on her face. “Yes you do, but I think you owe Sideswipe more than me you nearly made him sick too. Although. I wouldn’t say no to a date. But only on the condition you are truly better! and I will be checking.” She assured as she gently urged the mech to the nearest seat so she could perform her checks.

"He'll be fine, I can bargain a paid day off with him but for you...a date it is, I promise. " Not wanting to argue with her, he parked his aft on a chair as she began to scan his frame, checking his vitals. After thoroughly checking over Ironhide, the femme smiled and kissed his fore helm. "Good as new, back to your old grumbly self. Must have been a 24-hour virus."

"Told you so. Now..about that date."

[jiminscaramel]

I have a really weird request! A kihyun fluff (+ smut if u want) With some sort of masquerade/ball theme? Like glamorous and ballroom-ish and elegant? Be creative with it though! I want you to have fun! Thank you!! (I love ur writing ;))

Hi anonie! I’ve set this in a modern day au rather than a medieval one so I hope that’s ok. I’m not 100% satisfied with the finished result but the idea has stricken me so I’d actually like to make this into a longer and more detailed oneshot (perhaps with some smut) or a two part series. Regardless, I hope you like!

[WARNINGS] fluff, a lil angst

You flutter on the edge of the ballroom, watching everyone else excited by the thrill of the unknown while you sulk over your half finished flute of champagne. You hated these mandatory social gatherings, hated your obligation to interact with everyone else even more and your expectancy to fulfil your duties as the heiress to the company seemed to loom even closer overhead.

But what you did enjoy was in fact the mystery. The lavish gowns and jewelled masks provided an air of mystique that no other charity dinner did and perhaps it’s why you’re a little more disappointed that your promised “date” hadn’t showed.

The description of his attire so far hasn’t matched anyone in the ballroom and your faith in his showing is slowly dissipating with every sip of your drink. You place it down on a passing tray and take another, choosing to nurse this one a little slower.

Your skirts start to itch and your corset starts to hug your ribs a little too closely, your face getting slick behind your ceramic mask. You stare down at your dress, admiring the way the emerald silk shimmers in the light of the chandeliers and the way the diamonds twinkle like the stars above.

Your ears perk up to a little shift in the noise level and you notice a slight commotion further away. You brush it off as the shenanigans of the drunken CEOs, always misjudging their alcohol intake, relying on liquid courage to get through the nights of meeting other executives.

The mini orchestra finishes one song, pausing to prepare for the next and it’s in this moment, this lull in time, he chooses to strike. Winding and weaving through the throng of sirs and dames, swiftly fabricating out of thin air, he sidles up beside you. You barely have time to notice before he plucks your glass out of your hand and discards it behind you, his hand slipping around your waist and waltzing you to the dance floor, your skirts fluttering behind in your wake.

Your eyebrows raise in shock behind the mask as you finally get a moment to asses him, gasping in disbelief when you realise it’s him. Your lips purse together, unimpressed at his tardy yet suave entrance. The orchestra begins the next song and you sway to the rhythm, gracefully gliding across the marble in his arms.

“Unimpressive. I’d rather you show up on time with much less of an entrance than two hours late.” You deadpan, your hand firmly gripping his gilded shoulder.

“A tough nut to crack. As expected by the heiress.” His lips curl into a smirk before shooting a not so furtive glance over his shoulder.

You notice the disturbance in the crowd again and observe one of the security personnel frantically searching the floor. You frown and decide to prove deeper into his late appearance.

“And why are you late?”

He’s too busy looking over his shoulder to hear so a quick, firm squeeze to his shoulder is enough to get his attention.

“Hm?”

“Why are you late? Just so I know what to tell my parents when I dismiss your interest in being my suitor.” Your eyes simmer behind your mask; first he’s late and now you can’t even hold his attention?

“I… I got lost,” he lies, bold-faced.

“Try again,” you quip back, not falling for the lame excuse.

He spins you around dramatically in time to the strings, guiding you further from the staircase and closer to the balcony doors. You dont see the security on the edge of the floor anymore and instead spot them winding discreetly through the crowd.

Coupled with his nervous glances and the strange behaviour of the guards, you easily put two and two together, surely getting four.

“They’re looking for you, aren’t they?” You sigh and lower your head in shame. This is the last time your parents set you up with a date.

“I lost my invitation,” he admits, though his eyes seem to twinkle mischievously behind the slits of his black and emerald mask.

“Maybe that was for the best. So far you’ve done an awful job in swooning me.” You reply drily, although there is a slight mistruth to it.

Off the bat he is unique, unlike anyone you’ve courted before and almost childlike in his behaviour. He’s lively and, although you don’t want to admit it, a little humorous. Perhaps he isn’t such a lost cause.

The music comes to an abrupt halt and the ballroom is filled with shouting as someone spots him. A string of profanities are yelled in his direction as security gain on him, though something tells you he won’t go down that easily.

Using the crowd’s confusion to his advantage and his proximity to an exit, he unceremoniously slips out the balcony doors, pulling you along behind him. You bunch up your skirts to avoid tripping on the hem, quickly descending the steps that lead into the garden.

You frown as he navigates his way expertly through the garden you’d grown up in, leading the way to your secret and most treasured spot.

The shouts and commotion of the ball slowly fade away behind you, losing the security in the cover of shrubs and trees and the blanket of the night.

You don’t trust anyone in your life, not even your parents; the nature of your future job and current title call for you to be alert at all times, trusting no other soul but your own, yet something tells you it’s ok to follow him. You trust him and yet have no idea why.

You silently crawl through the little opening in the shrubs and step into your familiar clearing sheltered by the weeping branches of the trees above. It’s almost cave-like, only made out of twigs and leaves. A little pond twinkles on the other side of the clearing, housing the koi fish you’d looked after since you were a child.

You both take a minute to catch your breaths, hunched over with your hands on your knees, chests heaving with the painful memory of running.

“How did you know about this place?” You demand, wanting answers.

“You still haven’t figured it out yet?” He gasps in between breaths, removing his jacket and placing it on the grass.  

“Figured what out? Who areyou?” Your heart starts to flutter as your childhood memories come flooding back, assaulting your nostalgia. There was only one other person you’d shared this space with, only you hadn’t seen nor heard from him for years.

It couldn’t be–

He reaches up and removes his mask, tossing it to the floor also. The thick brush overhead obscures any light the night has to offer and his cheeks are flushed red but it’s undoubtably him.

“Kihyun?” You whisper, afraid that if you speak his name aloud, the mirage will disappear.

He rolls his eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Your jaw clenches, eyebrows knit together and your heart starts racing again for another reason entirely. You hadn’t seen him in years and this is how he shows up? Late, wanted and under the guise of someone else?

You shove a hand into his chest, pushing him away. “I haven’t seen you in years,” you hiss. “You never wrote, called, texted. Nothing! You left and cut me off. I thought we were friends! You were my best friend.”

“I know,” he admits, his hands up in surrender. “It was out of my control. There was nothing I could do.”

“You could’ve looked for me. I looked for you. I searched everywhere and your name never came up once.”

“I changed my name.” But he offers no further explanation.

You tear up at the unexpected reunion, hurt beyond words yet happy beyond explanation. The last time you’d seen him had been in this very spot, eight years old. He hasn’t changed, aside from the obvious. His eyes still sparkle with no good, his cheeks still full and round like you remember. But the things you don’t remember are the things that have made him into the man he is before you; his defined nose, broad forehead and sharp jaw. His lithe frame and agile feet.

“I’m sorry,” and it’s genuine, his apology. It soothes the ache in your heart you’d been nursing all this time, calming your nerves. Though it doesn’t seem to quell your anger, as fresh and raw as the moment you’d realised he’d left and was never coming back.

He grasps your hand in his and pries your fist open, lifting it up to his face and presses a kiss to your palm. He places your open hand over his heart, his eyes prompting and questioning.

“You remember,” you whisper, memories of the time spent together flashing before your eyes; kissing each other’s palms in promise and holding them to your hearts. It was a silly, childish ritual, one that only served as a special sort of handshake. But this, this means so much more.

“I’ve never forgotten,” he hold out his free palm for you to do the same, but you intertwine your fingers through his instead, pulling him closer.

You lean up on your toes and press a sweet, gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. Suggestive but chaste. “I just… fucking missed you.” You lean your head on his chest and hold him close, vowing to never let him go again.

“I missed you more.”