#some days I miss your shape more than I can bear to admit

[coyotetg]

Phil Elverum - Various Projects

[hauntedhokage]

A Helping Hand

Caleb/F!Reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k (my bad)

warnings: spoilers for Homecoming Wings story and Caleb’s Painful Signal memory, grief, sexual content

part two to Handsy

ao3 | masterlist | ko-fi

You hadn’t paid attention to any of the specifics that were provided to you, you simply didn’t care about any of the details besides the fact that your friend was dead. He was supposed to show up on his first day back at Skyhaven from his trip to Linkon for a follow up appointment, you needed to make sure his concussion had actually healed so he could be cleared to fly, only to be told by one of the Captains that you weren’t going to see him again. 

You’d wanted it to be a joke, his horrible attempt at gauging how much you missed him while he was gone, but you know better than to challenge a superior over it.

That explained why he hadn’t texted back, aside from your other explanation being that he was spending time with his family and not checking his phone. But for him to be dead? It didn’t feel real. 

Not him. Not Caleb. 

He was always confident in his strength and ability to perform (in every scenario), for him to have been killed was just…wrong. 

But a week goes by without someone saying “sike”, nobody jumps out to tease you for being gullible, and you’re dressed for the funeral held in Linkon City for the fallen pilot. You stand in your only appropriate funeral attire - one of hundreds on base who showed up but the only one who received eye contact from two of his close friends. 

After the funeral one of those two friends approaches you, letting you know that there were a couple things with your name on them in Caleb’s room of the apartment they shared, and that you were welcome at any time to come collect them. Stuff he’d want you to have, they’d said, and that wasn’t something that was easy to comprehend. 

The idea of Caleb having things for you in his apartment felt off, given your lack of a real relationship between you. Sure you were friends who had sex and he teased you relentlessly, but there hadn’t been anything more concrete established for him to have things for you in the apartment you’d never seen. There were feelings on your side of the relationship, sexual attraction blooming into so much more with every moment you spent with the pilot fertilizing that seed, but you kept that to yourself out of risk of him laughing you out the door. Without knowing his intentions, you wanted to keep your feelings safe from potential garden shears ready to cut the stem from the root, only now that flower would be left to wilt without his care and attention to keep it alive. 

You leave the gift bag sitting on your coffee table for longer than you’d like to admit. Two weeks of staring at it after long shifts in the med bay, your eyes constantly sore and puffy from how much you rubbed at them to keep the tears from staining your cheeks. It felt wrong to open a gift when the person who gave it to you wasn’t there to see your reaction to it. But you know you need to do it, because he would’ve wanted you to be strong for him. 

Inside the bag is a bear, one of the souvenir bears dressed like a pilot that was sold in the gift shop of the aviation museum. You told him once that there wasn’t a replacement for him unless those silly bears were an option, and he’d told you that it could count even if he was cuter. 

The card is opened next, your eyes taking in the only thing of him that you had left in his handwriting. The script was neat compared to other pilots, legible and carefully printed to ensure you could read it instead of the squiggles and shapes others had put in front of you to attempt at reading. 

Happy birthday, doc!

Cheers to another year of keeping each other healthy. Little Caleb is your new friend for when I’m gone - he’ll keep you company until I get back to bug you some more. 

Confession time:

I can say a lot to your face, but not this for some reason. Maybe we can get dinner for real as a date and it’ll be my turn to be flustered as I talk about feelings while you tease me?

Have a wonderful birthday, and let me know if anyone gives you crap so I can straighten them out. 

-your favorite pilot, Caleb 

“Yeah,” you whisper, reading over his handwriting once more in hopes that it relaxes the vice around your heart. “We should’ve talked feelings before you left, idiot.”

But that opportunity had long passed; and now you’re curled up on your couch with the bear in your arms, crying over your deceased lover. 

If he was alive, you’d kill him again for making you so upset - but he’d kick himself for it enough which would unfortunately deter you from wanting to hurt him. He was great at looking like a kicked puppy, you didn’t want to deal with that. 

The next day you resign from your position at the DAA. You felt sick to your stomach every time you saw a pilot walk by after Caleb’s funeral, and after the bear you just couldn’t take it anymore. A month later you’ve moved into a new apartment across Skyhaven in a month after accepting a position at Willow Medical Center. It doesn’t fix everything, but it certainly helped to live somewhere that you didn’t have a memory of Caleb - no meals cooked in that kitchen or singing in the shower to haunt your memory. In the hospital you don’t see him in every patient you come across, you don’t have to do any double takes when you see a uniform pass on a man with dark hair. You don’t sit and wait for him to slide into whatever room you’re in to ask you to hang out or get him out of some cleaning duty he’s been tasked with because he was a smartass. 

It was easier to breathe when you weren’t being suffocated by the memories of him and what could’ve been between you. 

But if you were to say you were handling your grief well, you’d be lying if you said you had it under control. You pay bills for a house you rarely live in, only there to sleep in a bed rather than half awake in your office at the hospital. It was more likely to see you reading a research paper in the hospital cafeteria than out getting lunch with colleagues, and you hadn’t had a home cooked meal since you left the DAA. You’d never bothered with truly going grocery shopping since moving in, so there was nothing to cook and you could keep your body alive by ordering takeout. 

It wasn’t healthy, but it kept you alive - or, at least, whatever this version of “alive” could be called. You weren’t even present in your own life anymore, holding an absence in your own life to keep yourself from truly processing those feelings. 

This was supposed to be any other Tuesday. You’d been in the hospital since Monday morning, moving about with maybe one or two naps in your office to keep you moving between appointments and the random request for a second opinion on a diagnosis. There had been a bustling on the floor when you were leaving your last patient for the day, which had you mentally planning to delay your return home about an hour or so to ensure you could avoid whatever commotion had arisen. 

But then the door to your office opens as you’re packing up your bag, and you bite your lip in irritation when the door is softly shut behind whoever had come to see you. 

“Can I help you?”

“I missed my follow up appointment.”

That voice… it was impossible. Caleb was- he’d been killed by an explosion. This visitor was just a victim of a similar voice, that was all. That, or you’d been at the hospital for far too long. 

“I’m sorry, but I haven't had any follow-ups scheduled that have been missed, so…” You trail off as you turn around, realizing immediately that you were standing face-to-face with the new Colonel of the Farspace Fleet that everyone was talking about. Tall and imposing in the long black coat over the uniform, but he’s not looking at you so you can’t see his face clearly. But why was he here? They had their own doctors in the Fleet. 

“I’m a couple months late, doc.” He states, keeping his service cap tucked in his arm as he turns to face you properly. 

Those eyes, that stupid little smile - there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the mad you’d been grieving for months. 

The crack! that rings through the room freezes everything that might’ve been happening around you. Caleb holds his jaw with a gloved hand, staring at you open mouthed in shock as you stare back at him. You’d slapped him hard enough that you felt a crack in your own hand in addition to the sting from the impact, and yet you were the one who was now crying over it. 

“Okay, ow!” He finally speaks, and you stand your ground with hands on your hips despite the tears that trail down your cheeks. Any eye makeup you might’ve worn is now ruined if your long hours at the hospital already hadn’t, but you can’t care about that when you’re standing in front of a ghost. “I’m sorry, doc.”

“You’d want to be more than that.”

He doesn’t stop you when you hit him again, your left fist colliding with his chest and followed by your right. It’s like he didn’t feel the blows at all, his hand coming to rest on your hip as you continue to pound on his chest and gradually pulling you in closer until you’re sobbing into his uniform. A gentle hand rubs your back as the other cradles the back of your head, keeping you close as you cry. 

“I’m back, doc, I’m okay.”

“Y-you’re such a dick.” Your voice wobbles more than you’d wanted it to, as if your tears didn’t already alert him to how deeply upset you’d been. “Why’d you come here?”

“You weren’t at home.” It’s like he’d never died, as if never left you, his tone light and easy as he steps back to look at you. He always could find you anywhere, it was an annoying talent of his. “Can I take you home? Your colleagues say you’ve been here for over a day, you need to rest-“

“To be able to take care of others,” you finish for him, stepping away from his gentle hold and turning towards your desk. “Yeah, I know.”

You didn’t have any appointments, the ward and emergency room were staffed, so there was no reason for you to stay. But did you want to go anywhere with a man you believed to be dead? Could you?

You supposed that you didn’t really have a choice; he already knew where you lived and worked, so he could show up whenever he wanted. This was a Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, noncompliance could land you in their military jail for whatever reason he deemed fit. It didn’t feel like something Caleb would do, but you weren’t sure that this was even the man you’d had such strong feelings for - how could this possibly be your friend?

When you wake up the following morning, you believe that you’d dreamt it all. You’d gone home, probably had a drink, then fell into bed to sleep off the long days at the hospital. It was a believable story, considering your history, and you’d almost convinced yourself of that truth - until you looked at your hand. 

Bandaged neatly, the dull throb telling you that you had actually injured yourself slapping Ca-

It couldn’t have been Caleb. Just some Farspace Fleet suit that riled you up, it couldn’t have been him. He was still very much dead in a box in a cemetery in Linkon City. 

Maybe this was the universe telling you that you needed to take some flowers to his grave - telling you to come to terms and get the fuck over it. He wouldn’t have wanted you to be miserable like this - that much you knew. If you didn’t get arrested for assaulting a Farspace official then maybe you’d take some days off to go to Linkon, or maybe go to the DAA and see the little shrine Patrick and Gideon had set up in his old locker.

“Caleb,” you whisper, your head dropping into your hands as the too-familiar burn of tears in your eyes builds up. “You bastard.”

“Rude.”

The new voice in your bedroom has you screaming, throwing the first thing you could get your hands on at the figure in the doorway. He catches the bear easily, looking at it with a smile before looking back to where you sit on the bed. He’d never seen you so upset, and for it to be over him was a twist of the knife that had planted itself in his heart every time he went to check on you. 

“Hey, you’re okay, doc. It’s me.”

“That's the problem.” Your counter makes him scoff, and you scoot away from him as he steps closer to your bed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” His sigh is heavy, and he sits on the edge of the bed with Little Caleb in his hands. “You’re not hallucinating, and you can hit me some more if you want.”

Fuck, did you want to. But if you hurt him you’d then have to patch him up and that wasn’t something you were particularly interested in. Not when your hands couldn’t stop shaking and your vision was blurred courtesy of the tears you'd been trying to blink away. You didn’t sign off on sloppy work, nor would you perform sloppy work - not even on him. 

You watch as he scoots closer to you, slow and with his hands in your sight as if trying to calm a scared animal. He’d always been so dramatic, and you hate that his antics have your cheek twitching as he dances Little Caleb towards you as he moves. He was now a Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and he was using a teddy bear to try and calm you down. 

“You shouldn’t cry over me anymore,” he says when you’re finally within reach, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. It’s warm, skin softer than you remember it being, and you can’t help but put your bandaged hand over his. “I’m back, and I’m okay.”

Was he? The Caleb you knew would rather die than have to wear a suit and tie - uniform or not. He’d shed the tie and coats, sitting beside you in a button down and slacks with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, more like the man you had come to love but still foreign to you

“So you just stalked me for two months?”

“Only two weeks. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Your diagnosis?”

“You’re not okay,” he whispers, his arms hesitant to pull you into him but still succeeding in their task. “I can’t apologize enough for what’s happened, but I can take care of you moving forward. Whatever you want or need, I’ll make sure you have it and that’s a promise.” 

“I don’t want you to leave me again.” Your murmured request has him moving you so you straddle him, forcing the eye contact he needed to try and get through to you.

“I’m not.”

The kiss happens before you’ve registered that he’d moved, but your fingers move to undo more of his buttons so you could get so your hands could feel his skin and trust that he was real. Your bandaged hand rests over his heart, and you’re not sure if it was his heartbeat or the throbbing in your hand that you’re feeling but you were choosing to believe that it was his. 

“No zero gravity acrobatics,” you request when you feel yourself get lighter, earning a laugh from him against your lips as he moves below you. 

“Trying to get these pants off.”

That was a good idea, and you swing your legs back as you’d learned how to do so you can get your own pants off while he did. There were some things you supposed you’d never forget how to do, you just hadn’t expected moving in the evol created gravity fluctuations to be one of those things but it clearly came in handy. 

“So talented,” he praises, bringing your legs back around him as the gravity returns and his hands pull your shirt over your head. “Missed you so much, baby. Your teasin’ and your smile, this pretty body, and the way you tell me ‘m stupid.”

“Caleb.” It’s all you can say, eyes closing when you feel his fingers slide through your folds. You couldn’t help that his gravity manipulation turned you on, or the way your body would always react to his touch. 

“Already so wet, that’s my girl.”

His. You’d been his since the second time you’d slept with him, nobody could ever come close to what Caleb made you feel. Both literally and figuratively weightless, with an infectious warmth that radiated from his heart and easily made your own that much warmer. His hands are still so familiar with your body, touching you with an uncertain gentleness but still knowing exactly how you needed to be touched to pull that first orgasm from you.

“Come home with me, doc.” He whispers into your mouth, hands holding you hips tight as you hover over his length. His tip just barely poking into your prepped hole drives you crazy, but you know he won’t let you move until you answer him. Those dual-toned eyes have that pleading look to them, like a puppy begging for a treat but the looming darkness in them makes you wonder if this puppy would bite. 

“We can talk about it later,” you suggest, your arm moving to wrap around his neck as you get the clearance to lower yourself onto him. 

It’d been too long since you’d had any kind of penetration, the fire of your desire snuffed out by your grief, and Caleb had always been difficult for you to take. It had been long enough that this felt like a new experience again, your eyes staying open as his forehead presses to yours while he talks you through the slow descent with soft praise until you’re fully seated. You missed the feeling of his length, the position that made you feel like he was deepen enough that he was pushed against your cervix - and in this moment you think he actually might be. 

“Always take me so well,” he praises, his hands guiding you to move. “You could have me every day if you wanted. All the time, take you with me on tours just so you can be close.”

The drag of his length against your still adjusting walls prompts an ache that was familiar and comforting despite the pain it brought, and you find yourself clinging to him in hopes that it would keep him there with you forever. You couldn’t bear to let him leave you again, you’d keep him inside you like this if it meant he wouldn’t leave you alone, leave you to feel that emptiness he’d left when he’d “died”. The offer to go with him actually sounded enticing, being taken care of rather than taking care of others - taking care of yourself again. 

“No more crying, baby.” It’s a soft spoken order, but an order nonetheless, his hands coming to cup your cheeks so he could wipe the offending tears away. You still have the assistance of his evol to ride him, the fluctuations in gravity keeping you moving despite both of you being otherwise occupied with each other. 

“I don’t want you to leave again.” If you hadn’t been so close, he likely wouldn’t have heard your whisper. Being exposed like this, even in front of Caleb, wasn’t something you were good at. You were already calm and collected, the black cat to his golden retriever in terms of energy which carried into your work. You couldn’t hold it together after he’d died, but you put up a good front in the hospital for your patients and colleagues. Even the most artisan of masks had their cracks and you were seeing yours crumble to dust in his hands, likely never to be repaired. 

“I’m not leaving you, baby,” he murmurs, placing the gentles of kisses to your lips as he holds your head in place. “Never again. I can’t be without you again. But let me make you feel good, alright? Let me take care of you.”

And he does, pulling multiple orgasms from you before he finally releases into your spent body. You’re held tightly in his arms, chest to heaving chest as you both fight to catch your breath. 

His stamina was insane now, making you wonder just what they’d done to him in his recovery as your brain finally caught up to the activities of the last hour. How had he been alerted, was it the Fleet’s doing or someone else’s? Did it hurt? Was he-

“Thinking way too hard after all of that.”

“Is it okay if I’m thinking about you?”

“Only if it’s about my offer to come home with me. But I’ll also accept compliments about how handsome and good in bed I am.”

In all your grieving you’d forgotten how fucking cocky he was, an annoyed huff leaving you as you try to pull away. The reaction in his right hand is delayed compared to the left, which was odd considering he was right handed. His reaction time should’ve been better, and it was suspicious how perfect his skin was despite him being in an explosion. There were some imperfections created by your grip on him, but nothing related to the explosion. You’d expected maybe some grafts, scarring from burns at the very least - but he was perfect. 

“Let’s go shower, honey. Maybe that’ll help you relax some more.” 

It doesn’t, but you do your best to put up a front as your hands carefully examine his body. He spends the shower reassuring you that he was real and standing in front of you, trying to wash your body down as you used washing his as an excuse to really look at him. Medical at the Fleet must really be something, and you’re tempted to take him up on his offer just so you could investigate closer. Something truly wasn’t right here, and for his sake you needed to know what it was. 

His hands are careful as they dry you off, paying special attention to your hair and leaning in to kiss you as you look up at him. His lips are dry, and you remind him to stay hydrated which earns a nervous laugh at him being caught.

“You really notice everything, doc.” It’s unfortunate that he’s right, because you wanted to just enjoy that he was here but couldn’t. 

You’re barely dressed when he gets a call, and you excuse yourself to get your own glass of water so he could have that privacy. It’s when you start to head back to the bedroom that you frown at seeing him fully dressed and heading your way while draping his tie around his neck. 

“I gotta handle some business. But I’ll be back tonight.” His fingers nimbly tie the black fabric around his neck, and it feels like he’s slipping away from you as he transforms into The Colonel. 

He leans in to kiss you, indulging himself in your taste with a satisfied hum that reverberates through your mouth and causing your heart to flutter.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, doc, I promise.” The promise is sealed with another kiss, only he’s pulling you along with him to the door to maintain that physical contact to anchor him to the moment despite the tides working to pull him away. “I ordered some groceries for you that should be here soon, make sure you eat.”

“Yes, Colonel.” The use of his title pulls a wink from him, a request for you to call him that in bed at least once met with your door closing in his face. You could hear him laugh on the other side, the sound more comforting than you think he’d ever realize. He was back, alive, and with you once again. You couldn’t look past the mystery that was lingering under his surface and return, but you were going to enjoy your time with him nonetheless.

[aemondsbabe]

Two Souls, Entwined

summary: dreams & dirty talk || helaena has been plagued with visions; things between her and her lady in waiting finally reach a boiling point

pairing: helaena targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, mutual pining, angst but happy ending, dry humping, breast/nipple play, dirty talk but make it poetic and loving, slight aegon slander i broke my own heart, i love helaena sm, there needs to be more content for her i love her, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 4.1k

a/n: happy day ten of 12 days of smuff!! i'm actually very excited/proud of this one, it got a lot more personal than i was expecting! really feeding that scared bi girl i was in middle school idk. i hope y'all enjoy it!!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @merrypembertons

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Helaena sighs when she opens her eyes and blinks, disoriented by the early morning light, her head still clouded with sleep. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers to the emptiness of her chambers, the cryptic phrase a familiar one now as it had been making its home in her head for the past few weeks. 

Sitting up with a groan, she pauses at the edge of her bed, staring blankly ahead as the cloudy figures from her dream seem to swirl around her still. She was growing frustrated with the shadowy shapes, as much as she hated to admit it – she did not often enjoy her dreams, they often brought news of unpleasant tidings, secrets that she alone seemed expected to bear, but for the past few weeks her dreams had been… pleasant. Joyous, in fact. Yet they seemed much further away than the others, only revealing small slivers of information to her night after night. 

She smiles softly as she gives one last glance out the window before padding over to the vanity in her chambers, determined to brush out her hair before the maids have the chance, they were always too rushed and hurried. Her mind drifts back to her dream as she runs a comb through her fair hair; lately, this mysterious dream seemed to be the only thing she could focus on for very long. 

The figure in it seemed so familiar, moving around her as if it was an old friend, someone safe. She sighed again as she thought, blushing despite herself as she recalled her latest vision, remembering how the shadow had moved about her, as if in a courting dance, before it leaned in closely, though if it were for a kiss or to whisper a secret she didn’t know. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” She repeats, as if the repeating will somehow reveal more. 

It puzzles her greatly, the feelings of safety mixed with distinct romantic desire, a deep wanting from somewhere within her. There aren’t many people she even feels safe around, and even less so those she’d ever felt romantic longing for, and a much shorter list followed of people who had ever felt romantic longing for her. She feels secure around her mother, of course, and grandsire and her precious younger brothers, but she cannot help but wrinkle her nose with disgust at the thought of romantic intent with any of them.

She blinks, setting her hairbrush down and biting her lip as she thinks. I feel safe with Aegon, she ponders, brows knitting together, He’s never given me a reason to not feel safe but… She sighs, not bothering to finish the thought. She was well aware her marriage was one of politics, not of love. She remembers there had been whispers of many suitors when she’d finally come of age; everyone from Aegon and Aemond to her half-sister’s bastard sons had been considered, and though Helaena appreciated some more than others… she didn’t desire any of them. 

Before she can help herself, her blue eyes flit over her own curves as she gazes at herself in the mirror, wishing, as she had so many times before, that she could reach out and feel her own reflection – feel a mirrored twin with similar soft skin and supple flesh. She wishes that soft, delicate fingers could touch her as well; she had grown tired of rough, battle worn touches long ago. 

Someone I feel safe with and feel romantic longing for, she thinks again, blinking rapidly as a familiar face immediately springs to mind yet again, just as it had every time she’d pondered this mystery for the last few weeks, only growing more frustrated. It can’t be, she’d decided that long ago, long before this vision began. 

But...

The Gods only ever seemed to show her visions that were assured, that would come to fruition, one way or another. Maybe… maybe that meant that y–

No, she thought, locking eyes with her reflection, Don’t be ridiculous. 

She smiles as she hears her chamber doors opening, at the same time they do every morning, and turns around on the ornate, cushioned chair at her vanity, her eyes locking with your familiar ones as you waltz it. 

“Good morning, Princess,” her heart beats a mite faster at the sound of your voice, at the bright smile that graces your lips as you stride to her, “I trust you slept well?”

“Good morning, sweet friend,” she greets you brightly, standing and pulling you into a hug as she did every day, “I did, quite peacefully, actually. And you?” She asked, trying to ignore the small voice that longed to hold you more closely, as she did everyday. 

“I did as well,” your hand lingers in hers for a moment as she steps away, sitting back at her vanity as the maids arrive, instantly fluttering around the two of you like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, “After we break fast, would you like to come to the gardens with me?”

Helaena merely nods, though inside she buzzes, her heart fluttering like a bird’s wings. 

I would follow you into the Seven Hells, she longs to say. 

You wake with a small start, your hand instantly flying to your lips. You could swear they still tingle for a second from when she’d kissed you, just before you’d woken up. Blushing, you glance around your chambers, as if there would be anyone else there, and finding them empty leaves you both relieved and disappointed all at once. 

Sighing, you slide off of your plush bed and walk over to your small vanity and use the small wash basin to splash water on your face. A small thrill shoots up your spine as you glance over your shoulder in the mirror, knowing from the position of the light filtering through your windows that it’s nearly time to go find your friend. 

Friend.

It’s a funny word, you think, not one you would have imagined assigning to the princess all the many years ago when you’d arrived at King’s Landing, young and eager to be a lady in waiting for Helaena. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your lips each time you think of her, your quiet, captivating princess. You meet your own gaze in the mirror and frown, looking at yourself in the way a disappointed parent would look at a child. 

Not yours, you chide, like repeating it over and over would make it hurt any less, Not yours, not yours, not yours. 

Sighing yet again, you rise from your spot at the vanity and quickly grab your robes, eager to escape your own thoughts. 

“This one is the iphiclides podalirius,” Helaena says, her voice soft as she marvels at the delicate butterfly perched on the back of her hand, “More commonly called the scarce swallowtail, I believe. It’s truly remarkable, normally they don’t travel this far north, though I’m told they’re a common sight in the gardens of Sunspear.”

“Then we are quite lucky to see it,” you smile, setting your embroidery hoop on the bench beside you as you study the yellow and black striped insect, though your eyes seem to drift to the princess on their own; you can’t help but smile as you see the way her beautiful sapphire eyes light up as she examines the small creature, “It’s very beautiful.”

Like you, you think, swallowing down the words. 

“Would you like to hold her?” Helaena asks, looking at you hopefully. 

As always, you nod, aware that you were the only one who seemed to entertain her fascination with insects and plants. Selfishly, you liked that. 

Slowly and carefully, Helaena guides the butterfly onto the back of your hand; the two of you sitting close together, close enough for your shoulders to press together. A giggle leaves you at the feel of the insect's feet on your skin, so small and light, like tiny, faint kisses.  

“Perhaps she was drawn to the hydrangeas,” the princess muses, “Those are new this year, though I suppose any of the other very colorful plants would spark her fancy as well, like the lilac or poppies or…”

It takes you a second to notice that she’s gone quiet next to you and you finally tear your gaze away from the butterfly, frowning slightly when you see the look on her face, her blue eyes hazy and unfocused as they flit back and forth like she’s watching figures you cannot see. 

“Princess?” You ask softly, reaching out to take her hand, only halfway aware of the butterfly fluttering away, “Helaena?” You ask again, a bit louder, gripping her hand tighter. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers, so faintly that the words scarcely leave her lips. Your frown only deepens, your eyebrows knitting together as you shake your head, trying to make sense of her words. 

“What?” You ask softly, used to hearing her mutter odd phrases but seeing her in a trance was something altogether different, “Helaena? Should I go fetch the maester?” You don’t know why you ask her, not expecting a response. 

The figure danced in front of her again, clouded in darkness, though instead of feeling cold and empty like the dark so often did to her, these shadows hugged Helaena like a blanket. 

She blinked, and suddenly everything changed, becoming clear as if she’d blinked away tears. The clarity was startling for a second as the edges of the figure sharpened before her, still leaning toward her as if it meant to whisper an amorous secret.

Finally, her eyes focused and in that moment, she felt as if she could be knocked over by the air current made from the flittery wings of a butterfly. 

You. 

It was you, just as she’d always suspected, standing before her as if you’d always been there. 

Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe. The phrase repeats in her mind like a mantra as she stares at you, marveling at the way you stare at her. 

Like she’s precious, something to be fawned over. Something to be… loved? 

Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as she reaches out, her fingers finally skimming over your cheek. 

She could cry, perhaps she is crying, she doesn’t know. The only thing she’s sure of is that this feels so right, like a puzzle piece within her has finally shifted and slotted into place. 

Just as it crosses her mind to lean in and kiss you, the vision falls away, words echoing in her mind as the gardens come back into focus.

Not a friend. 

Not a friend.

Not a friend.

Yet...

Not a foe. 

“Helaena, please!” You beg, urgency coating your voice as you lean in closer, closer than you’d ever dared before, praying to see some spark of recognition in the princess’s eyes. 

Suddenly, she seems to come back to herself, gasping as you jump back away from her, startled. 

“Oh!” She breathes, blinking a couple times before her blue eyes finally fix themselves on you, “I’m so sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

You shake your head quickly, moving back toward her and taking her hands in yours once more, your heart twisting as you notice them trembling slightly. “There’s no need to apologize, I’m just happy you’re alright.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, Helaena staring at you in a way that makes your cheeks heat up, as if she’s seeing you for the first time, before she seems to catch herself and look away, much to your disappointment. 

“Was that one of your dreams?” You ask softly, looking down to where her hand rests within yours. 

“Yes.” She says simply, her eyes locked on the way your fingers overlap hers as she desperately tries to ignore the voice in her head telling her to enterwine them. 

“What did you see?” You ask, catching her gaze again. There’s a fire in her eyes now that makes you shiver. 

She’s quiet for a moment, neither of you so much as breathing as you stare at each other – the princess looking at you so intently you wonder if she’s trying to hear your thoughts. You pray she can’t. 

“Nothing of importance,” she says finally, pulling her hands away and standing from the bench suddenly, “They’re just shapes, really. Fuzzy things.”

“Alright,” you smile as you stand with her, picking up your embroidery hoop from where it had been abandoned at your side, “If you ever wish to discuss them, I would be more than happy to listen.” You tell her, desperately wanting to hold on to whatever moment you had just shared with her. 

She merely nods with a small, soft smile and holds her arm out for you to take, “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late for supper.” 

The fire warming your skin from the hearth in Helaena’s chambers normally felt cozy and inviting, but tonight the heat of it was stifling as the two of you sit in silence. Each of you is presumably working on an embroidery piece, although the atmosphere feels more like that of a stalemate with each passing moment. 

You can feel her looking at you, sneaking glances every minute or so. You imagine she can probably feel the same, perhaps that’s why she keeps looking your way, because you can’t seem to keep your eyes off her either. 

Finally, the tension in the room seems to boil over and you can’t take it anymore; your fingers dig into the wood of your embroidery hoop as you gather the courage to speak. 

“Have I… Are you cross with me?” 

“Pardon?” The princess asks, jumping a bit before laying her hoop at her side, her eyes wide as she looks at you unabashedly now. 

“You, well, you keep looking at me. I just, I’m hoping I haven’t offended you in some way.” You chance a glance at Helaena and quickly do a double take, heart clenching in your chest when you see that she looks as if she’s about to cry. 

“You haven’t,” she breathes, shaking her head emphatically, locks of pale hair cascading down her shoulders as she does, “I simply… I was considering the dreams I’ve been having, the one I had earlier today.” 

“But what does that have to do with me?” 

“You’ve been in them!” She says suddenly, loudly, like she has to force out the words. 

“What?” You blink. 

She sighs heavily and swallows, wringing her hands on her lap. “You were in them. You have been for weeks.” 

You wonder if the princess can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you blink, silently praying to whichever of the Gods may be listening that Helaena’s dreams and your dreams were not somehow intertwined. In the back of your mind, you knew your pleas were useless. 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times like a fish that’s been plucked from the water before you finally find your voice, “What… what am I doing in them?” Your whole body buzzes, fearing the answer and desperately needing it all at once. 

The princess hesitates, you want to scream as you can all but see her weighing her options in her mind before she finally, finally speaks. 

“Courting me, kissing me.” 

A small withering, wounded noise passes your lips at her words. You feel dizzy, the room spinning as you feel as though the entire world is crashing down around you while at the same time, it’s as if a mountain’s worth of weight has been lifted from your shoulders. 

“And your visions… they only show things already fated to occur?” You feel frozen as you ask, not a muscle in your body moving. You know the answer even as the question leaves your lips, but you need to hear her say it. 

Helaena sighs and shakes her head, a frown cutting across her pretty face, “That’s why it’s frustrating,” she bites, spitting the words like the mere act of explaining is painful, “This one cannot come to pass, I do not understand why I see it…”

She keeps speaking, talking through her annoyance, but the sound of your own blood pumping wildly through your veins blocks out her words. 

No, your head pounds as you silently scream, No, no, no! Please, just let me explain, give me a chance, I’ll do any—

A loud sob cuts through your thoughts; the world seems to wrench its way back to you as you look at the princess, eyes widening when you see the tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. 

“You could never truly wish to…” She says slowly, brokenly, words fading like she can’t even bear to say them. 

“I do.” The words feel punched from your chest like you’re holding your heart out to the open air.

Helaena’s ocean eyes cut to yours as her breath hitches, the both of you not daring to move a muscle as you sit together on the small sofa in her chambers; the fire crackling in the hearth is the only indication that time has not ceased to exist. 

You aren’t sure who moves first, maybe the Gods have threaded the two of you together so tightly that you move as one, you can’t be sure. 

But her lips are on yours. 

And her hands cup your cheeks as yours scramble to fit around her waist, four hands poised on a knife’s edge. 

You sigh against each other, pulled together like a knot in a thread, and you gasp as you find yourselves pressed together, chest to chest.

Finally, you part for air, panting together as you stare, foreheads pressed together. 

“Princess—“

“You love me?” She asks, swiping a thumb over your cheek; it’s only then you realize you’re crying. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands grip her tighter, pulling her impossibly closer to you, “And you?” 

“Yes,” she echos, her thighs slotting over one of yours as she climbs atop your lap, “You are my heart beating out of my body.” 

Her words zap through you and your heart twists in your chest as your hands clamber against her, your lips press against hers again urgently. Twin moans, muffled into each other's mouths, sound between you as your hands cup her rear, pressing her more urgently against you. 

“You are beautiful,” you sigh, hands grabbing at her plush curves through the silk fabric of her skirts, “You’re so soft and —“ 

“Warm,” she breathes, moaning into the column of your neck as her lips move against your skin, “You’re so warm, my love, like the sun.” 

My love. The pet name sends a shiver down your spine as the two of you move together, pressing kisses against whatever patches of skin you can find, rocking together instinctually. The firmness of her thigh presses deliciously against your center, your skirts rucked up enough to bare your smallclothes, which press welty against your core. 

You gasp, pressing a kiss to the princess’s collarbone as her hips move tantalizingly on your thigh, the warmth between her legs nearly suffocating as you whimper and sign against each other’s soft skin. 

“I have always loved you,” you confess, nearly coming undone as she begins tugging at the ties at the bosom of your gown, her hands shaking as she pulls them loose, “Always, from the first moment I saw you.”

She makes a noise between a moan and sob as she finally tugs your bodice loose, and you whimper as her lithe fingers ghost over your breasts, causing your back to arch into her touch. “I’ve always loved you too,” she sighs as her soft hands cup your chest, kneading the flesh in her palms, “I always wanted to court you, marry you, I,” her voice breaks off in a faint, high-pitched whine as you finally manage to unbutton the bodice of her gown, she savors the feel of your lips and hands against her breasts for a moment more before continuing, “Gods, I wished to bed you, I’ve always longed to know what you would feel like, how sweet you’d taste.”

Her confessions nearly make you weep as you kiss over the fat of her breasts, keening into her supple skin as she delicately pinches at your nipples, “I have only ever thought of you, my sweet princess,” your chest heaves as you speak, your words muffled as you lick over her nipple, “When I sleep, when I wake, when I–” The words stick in your throat as you freeze, peering up at her through your lashes, somehow still impossibly afraid of going too far, or too fast, or too anything. 

“When you what?” She asks, her voice so soft and sweet as she stares down at you, her fingers digging into your breast and side as her sapphire eyes flit between yours, “Tell me, my love, when you what?” She urges, her hips moving somehow more desperately against yours, only serving to fuel the fire slowly building within you. 

“Gods, when I touch myself,” you whisper, shuddering as she lets out a breathy moan above you, “When I peak, sweet princess, I think only of you.” Your confession ends in a sharp gasp as she angles you backwards, anchoring you to her with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Her lips trail down your neck and collarbone before finally, she presses firm, fiery kisses to your breast, panting as she wraps her petal pink lips around your nipple and sucks, pressing her thigh more firmly against your center as she does. 

“I think only of you too,” she breathes, blue eyes fluttering up to yours as your hands tangle in her pale locks, “Every time I touch myself, I dream of you,” she mumbles around your breast, her touch all but burning into you as she kisses across your chest before mouthing at the other side, “When my brother beds me, it is you I see, my precious lady.”

You practically sob as her admission sends you reeling, each cell in your body bursting like lightning from a stormcloud as you peak. You’re useless to do much else other than tremble in her hold as shivers travel in currents down your spine, your smallclothes no doubt ruined as your center clenches frantically at nothing, your pearl so taut and achy as it twitches against the princess’s thigh. 

You don’t waste a second when your high subsides, moving frantically as you push Helaena back, slotting yourself perfectly atop her, pressing your thigh between her legs like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Your skirts fan out around your bodies, blanketing your forms in a soft sea of silk, your bare chests pressed tightly together as you rut against her, needing to see her awash with pleasure more than you need breath in your lungs. 

“My love, my sweet princess,” you sigh into her mouth, your tongues swirling together as she all but cries beneath you, her hands digging possessively into your waist, “I am yours, my love, until the end of my days.” You swear, pressing your thigh tightly against her center, and your heart soars as she finally shatters in your grasp.

You watch, enraptured, as she peaks; mesmerized at the blush that blooms on her skin, at the way her blue eyes roll back as her eyes flutter closed, at how her breasts heave as she sucks in desperate breaths. The sounds she makes seem to pierce into your soul, each whimper and moan and cry ripping away parts of you until your heart is stripped bare, beating only for her. 

The two of you lay in a heady silence for many moments, the only sounds being your soft, panting breaths as you each come down and the ever-present crackle sounding from the hearth. 

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” Helaena whispers, her voice raspy as she speaks.

“Pardon?” You ask, pulling back from her embrace just enough to meet her gaze.

“That phrase,” she explains, her eyes glimmering in the firelight as a smile steadily blossoms on her pink lips, “I kept hearing it, in my dreams about you.”

You stay silent, tracing soft circles on her soft skin, leaving room for her to continue.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but now I see.”

“Hm?”

You aren’t my friend, the Gods spoke truthfully,” she beams, radiating joy as she studies your face, “You’re my love.”

Her statement is simple, but it makes you smile all the same as you press a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Yes,” you nod, pulling back to meet her eyes as you lay a hand over her heart, “Always.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[re-whump]

Day 5 - Concussed Caretaking

more Mozzy! maybe catching a break! it's a little over 500 words, oopsie. and on a comfort prompt, can you believe? (you should, it's what happens when I don't take time to edit) contains: tiny whumpee (borrower), concussed whumpee, unprepared caretaker

Mozzy was on the ground, soaked and freezing and vulnerable, and before they could blink, they were on their lying back under bright lights. It was dry. Their coat was missing. They were on a folded towel or something else soft. Warm. Inside. It smelled like…food? Old grease and something sweet. Some kind of kitchen.

They glared at the ambient brightness as they slowly sat up to try to get their bearings. Their head was killing them. It felt like a vise meant to pop their eyeballs and it made their vision even blurrier than usual. They hardly wanted anything more than to lay back down and get more sleep, but they knew they weren’t safe here, wherever here might be. It was bright and open and that meant they were basically serving them up to whatever hungry predator happened to wander by.

When Mozzy stood up, the light on the horizon shifted into a large shadow that fell towards them. They flinched automatically at the movement and stumbled in the opposite direction. The shadowy shape came into focus just before it reached them and they tripped over their own shock. Their tail just hurt when they tried to catch themself and landed against splayed fingers, each nearly as long as Mozzy was tall. They were too afraid to move except for the slight sway from their lost balance until the hand gently guided them back to where they’d woken up.

“Okay, no, we’re still gonna sit here for a bit, hm? Lay down?” the human said.

Mozzy stared up towards the rest of the shadowy figure. The lights around the edges burned and their eyes really didn’t want to focus on it besides confirmation that the human certainly did have a face. Dark hair, maybe?

The hand let go of them and tapped the towel several times to try and coax them back into bed. They waited for the hand to pull away then broke into a run.

Or, into a stumble. Between their broken—missing!—tail and whatever was happening with their head, their legs were having trouble remembering how gravity worked. The human caught Mozzy again and this time the fingers curled around them and pulled them off their feet.

“Hey, hey. You can’t run off yet. Sit down or you’re going to hurt yourself. You almost ran straight off the table, you know.”

Mozzy shook their head and struggled as the human lowered them back into the makeshift bed. Before they could even try to get to their feet, she tucked a corner towel over them and held them down for a second. They thrashed, but this was more than warning enough that she could crush them whenever she wanted. They went still.

Her hand drifted away to poke at another light Mozzy assumed was her phone. Calling someone? Photographing them? That, they couldn’t see no matter how hard they squinted their blurry eyes. A few more taps of glass and her hand returned to stroke the side of Mozzy's head.

They didn’t like being under her hand one bit, but they could admit the motion was about comforting enough to balance out that discomfort. They closed their eyes and pretended they didn’t know what it was that was touching them. Or maybe just that they didn’t know they shouldn’t trust a human so easily.

“I know this is my fault, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know”—she swallowed the rest of the sentence and her voice forced a smile—“It looks like we finally got your tail to stop, um, oozing though. God, I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you’ve got some secret, tiny doctor around I could take you to?”

Mozzy shook their head.

“Then guess I’m the best you’ve got, sorry. I don’t think anyone is stubborn enough to be out this way in this storm except me. And apparently you.”

They shrugged deeper into the towel-blanket with a resigned sigh. They were so sleepy they relaxed easily into the thick terry cotton even with the giant looming over them. It was at least as comfortable than most of the beds they'd had over the years. And surely, having her messy help was better than facing this alone.

[xiaoddexingjiutang]

something about Dreadwing become a ghost, in Megatron's Perspective:

One day, Megatron received some anomaly reports, as he did every day. But then he discovered a ghost missing parts of its soul, a shape difficult to recognize but somehow familiar. It was Dreadwing. "If it's you, this will be easy," he thought. Using his rhetoric, Megatron maneuvered Dreadwing back into his old quarters, making sure he stayed put.

It was around the end of season two, so there were still dreams of defeating the Autobots, but this incomplete Dreadwing wasn’t interested in those ambitions. Megatron didn’t pay much attention to him after that since he wasn’t causing any harm.

The phrase "if it's you, this will be easy" was simple: "I could kill you once, I can kill you a second time. Just as I could educate you once, I can do it again." Watching Dreadwing slowly regain his normal cognitive functions felt quite rewarding for Megatron, like caring for a digital pet to relieve stress.

Later, when Starscream became useless, Megatron grew agitated and remembered the ghost. He asked Dreadwing, "If I punish Starscream, will you leave?" Dreadwing replied, "No, that’s not it."

During this period, Dreadwing's cognitive functions gradually improved. Initially, he couldn’t even recognize people. The turning point came around the time Starscream created the zombie soldiers, making Megatron regret killing Dreadwing. Normally, regretting after someone’s death is pointless because nothing can be done. But this was different—a ghost was present.

Megatron initially used Dreadwing as a negative energy dump because he would listen. Then he started sharing some genuine thoughts and past events, like digging up graves. "I thought digging up the enemy’s graves would make you happy," he said.

Dreadwing responded, "That would have made my brother happy. He’s long dead. I no longer find joy in such things."

Megatron immediately realized he was using terms like "class enemy" again after millions of years. He uncovered some real underlying issues, realizing he had forgotten many things, but it was too late. He couldn’t return to the past; he was bound by his actions and could only pursue victory at all costs, leaving other matters for after the victory.

Being Megatron, he asked direct and hurtful questions: "Why don’t you see your brother? How did you end up like this?"

Dreadwing replied, "How should I know? I don’t like being this way either!"

Later, Dreadwing learned some things and began to find peace. From the logs of the Nemesis, he discovered that Megatron had bathed half of Cybertron’s dead in Dark Energon.

Dreadwing thought, "No wonder he doesn’t care about my brother’s corpse; he doesn’t care about anyone’s."

Thus, they exchanged information, influencing each other in certain ways.

When Megatron was stabbed to death by Bumblebee, Dreadwing's ghost also emerged but then disappeared instantly, leaving Megatron furious and in pain: "You little petroleum rabbi , even Starscream couldn't bear to see me go, but you actually want to watch me die!"

### Why Dreadwing Became a Ghost

Why did Dreadwing become a ghost instead of returning to the Well of All Sparks? The real reason was that he was extremely angry, unable to move past his fury. He wanted to see where this purely utilitarian and emotional approach would lead. His conscious mind wouldn’t admit it, but as they began to understand each other, feelings developed.

Why did Dreadwing find peace? He understood Megatron’s view of life and death—not just a focus on utility or victory, but always looking forward, valuing the future over the past, and the living over the dead. He had once been among the important ones, and Megatron had genuinely cultivated him. This realization was a more effective way for Megatron to see his mistakes than being tormented by Unicron. Megatron realized he had strayed far from his original path, but Dreadwing, like a stubborn teenager, kept saying he didn’t want this or that until he finally understood what he did want.

This concept could be titled: "The Desperate Old Leader Meets the Rejuvenated Big Jet."

[s-sugustar]

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ synopsis: You could never be happy.

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ pairing: Modern! Eren Yeager x black! fem! reader

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ cw: death, angst

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ author's notes: took me about an hour to write this or less -. not proofread, oh and first fic since i’ve deleted everything from before .

I'm scared

Eren knew he was going to die soon. His health wasn't getting any better but he tried. No matter how much medication he took, or treatments he had, the cancer was not going away anytime soon.

He hated himself for not seeing the signs, not paying attention to how quickly he'd lose his breath or how he'd cough up blood once in a while. He always talked about how he wanted to die young and well, quite unfortunate but he got what he thought of constantly.

Eren knew you hated hospitals for a long time, even when you had a skating accident a couple of years back, they had to sedate you before taking you to the hospital because you fought with everything in you not to go.

The slow beeping of monitors or the scrubbed tiles that reeked of bleach just reminded you of death in some instance. Or maybe it was because it was the place your mother died when you were six. She had a heart problem, the doctors never stated what it was; all they did was kept it brief with you and your father.

You cried that day, the one person you had been extremely close with. The one you made cookies with every Saturday night to take to church on Sunday. The one who read you 'Princess and the Frog' every single night till you knew the story word for word. She was your rock, the one who shushed you when you fell and others had laughed but she, oh she told you that it was okay, and she kissed the bandage every single time.

In the back of my mind, you died

When Eren told you the news, everything around you slowed. The ticking of the old wall clock became slower, the hairs on the back of your neck raised and with the blink of an eye, you were back in the same hospital room when they covered your mother's dead body with a white cloth. Only this time, it wasn't your mother, but it was Eren.

When you got away from your thoughts, you looked back to him in fear and hurt. Seems like the universe wasn't on your side anymore, if at all. Although you barely cracked a smile towards him, you knew he could see past everything you had built up. "I'm sorry y/n."

Work was quiet when Eren wasn't around, and silence was something you didn't like. You saw Jean and Connie every day at work and you enjoyed their company, truly, but you felt as though something had been missing. You knew what it was but you refused to acknowledge it too. When you first visited him, it had been the 6th of November, outside was bright but chilly in contrast to how the room you were in felt.

You felt squeezed, hopeless and everything within the room was making you sick but you stayed, just for him. You saw how much paler he had gotten when he was first admitted, the bags under his eyes seemed to darken than before and well his breathing...he needed a mask wherever he went. He was in pain and there was nothing you could do about it, just like your mother.

It was inevitable but you knew he wouldn't be here much longer, so you stopped visiting him. Afraid that it may be the last time you'd see him. Although impractical, you thought it was best, especially after the last visit.

"The doctors said that there isn't much they can do now." He whispered, his head laid in your lap as you drew small shapes onto his shaven head, somewhat soothing the both of you as you heard the words that fell from his lips and his reaction to what he had said. You paused in your administrations causing Eren to look you full in the eyes, a distant look in his eyes. You stared at him, contemplating what to say but he had beat you to it.

"I wish we had more time together, just you and I. I wish things didn't end up this way because I know how scar-." You couldn't bear to hear the rest of what he had to say so you shut him up with a kiss. Sinking deep making him whine in desperation for more. After pulling away, Eren sat up before reaching under his pillow to hand you something, a letter to be exact. You looked at him in confusion before he answered, "I want you to open it the day after my funeral."

and I didn't even cry, not a single tear

The funeral was short or at least it had been for you. You couldn't bear to look at him lying peacefully in the casket, you just couldn't. You barely had anything left in you after you said what was laid on your heart to say. It was too much for you to handle, so much so that right after your speech, you walked out, not looking back as you headed to your car in tears.

You laughed on the way home, wasn't funny how gloomy and quiet outside had been? Some say that the earth could feel when we lost someone. Oh, the irony. The trees didn't sway from left to right nor did the sunshine. Quite the opposite you'd say. When you made it to your room, the first thing you did was glance at the letter that had been sitting on your desk since your last visit; the last time you saw him. You couldn't wait till tomorrow to open it so you took it out now.

I wonder what the letter said.

[the-muffin-master]

TAV INFO | before the nautiloid (2/2)

TAV INFO | before the nautiloid (1/2) here ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) and just a heads up, I’m gonna be alternating pronouns for Zyra (he/she/they), because it feels validating to me as someone who also goes by any pronouns. It's important to me everyone knows they're non-binary!

Get ready for more TIMELINE BULLSHIT. In my mind, Zyra is running on 3 days without sleep by the time they get kidnapped – and they’d probably get caught on the night of the third day. But I’m getting ahead of myself, what happens directly after they’re rescued?

Their savior is a half-orc warrior named Brranwin (she/they). She’s a work for hire who takes escort missions and similar quests. Their meeting, aka Brranwin finding Zyra’s unconscious body, was pure happenstance. Once the tiefling was fred from the vines and thorns that kept him bound for over a century, Brranwin decided to take him back to their own home in Baldur’s Gate. This man, whoever he was, didn’t look like he’d be waking up any time soon.

Brranwin managed to wake her up with a homemade antidote, which was just a fistful of herbs in their pantry, but it seemed to work as a temporary solution. Huge emphasis on temporary. Their unexpected guest wasn't under just any sleeping spell, after all. The effect would run off before the day was over, and if Zyra were to sleep at night, she'd fall into a deep sleep again… one from which she wouldn’t be able to wake up on her own.

She was afraid this might happen and refused to rest, even with Brranwin promising to watch over her.

Zyra stayed with Brranwin the day they were rescued, if only to get their bearings, but was anxious to set off the very next day. Although still disoriented and in no shape to travel on their own, Zyra was anxious to check up on their mother, who by now would be elderly in tiefling years. They arrive at their kingdom and hometown by nightfall, staying over at an inn (this is the second day with no sleep – it’s getting harder to stay awake, and Zyra is all alone in their room pacing back and forth to fight off the darkness).

Good news is, Zyra’s mother is indeed still alive and kicking! The bad news is she can’t remember their child (I have a whole comic planned for this). Zyra tries to communicate with her, but ends up scaring the woman more than anything. He absconds before the guards catch on to what’s happening, he’s NOT about to get arrested again lmao, leaving his home behind once more. Perhaps he should have stayed gone after all – whoever “Zyra Mirthveil” once was is dead to the world he used to know. And said world moved on without him.

Tired from getting no rest for the past couple of nights and now shaken by the encounter, Zyra mindlessly wanders the streets of their kingdom until the evening. The Spellplague had done a number on places they used to know like the back of their hand, and not everything was rebuilt the same way it was before. Some establishments were entirely gone, replaced by stores run by complete strangers. Zyra stumbles around in a dissociative gaze until they decide it would be safer to stay with Brranwin for the time being. Especially in their condition.

On the way back to Baldur’s Gate, the mind flayers seem to have different plans for them. It’s kinda funny that their reunion with Brranwin happens on the nautiloid in retrospect. The next part is immensely less funny, in their opinion.

Let me paint you a picture. Imagine if you’re a bard and you’ve got a muse in a different city. You know him, but he doesn’t know you. Good, old unrequited love to inspire enough ballads and poems for a lifetime. You travel for hours and hours with a pounding heart, and you’d never admit it but at this point “having a larger audience” just feels like an excuse to see him (it’s not, you need every coin a passerby can spare you). Then, when you’re detained for treason, your muse doesn’t miss you. Because he doesn’t know you exist.

And then, inexplicably, you see that same person after waking up all that time. And he hasn’t changed at all. Untouched by time, much like yourself. Gods, and this little worm inside of your head can communicate your thoughts to him if you’re not careful, so you better keep your distance and shield your mind. What would this man think about crossing paths with a random bard who used to be head over heels for him? Maybe this is how you die. You miraculously wake up from a century-long coma to get your throat slit by a pale elf.

TL;DR my character has been gay as fuck for Astarion for a long time. He has no idea Zyra exists, she was just part of the background and not an actual person at the time (harsh but true). He’d be out there seducing people for Cazador and she’d be playing her queer little tunes with heart eyes. This encounter and their subsequent alliance is mortifying to her lmao. Insert something about “in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen” here.

I swear it’s the last thing on this, but I love to imagine Zyra would pick up on Astarion’s manneirisms. You know, stuff he does without noticing while waiting for someone, the “real him” not the one he built up for the job. And it’s inconsequential shit that literally doesn’t matter like fixing his hair or checking his nails. It’s those moments of vulnerability where someone is doing a very mundane activity but for whatever reason it’s the most endearing thing in the universe. But to a bard that’s the exact kind of corny shit that ultimately gets Zyra down bad. OK SORRY THAT’S IT FOR THIS POST UNTIL NEXT TIME BYE.

I lied, this next paragraph is the last thing, because I didn’t know where to put it.

For context: I don’t know shit about distance, but my “headcanon” is that the trip (traveling by wagon?) from their kingdom to Baldur's Gate took from morning to evening. So, back in the day, they'd wake up bright and early, have a nice meal their mom prepared for them, then set off on the journey. They'd get there just in time to watch the sunset over the coast. This matched up with the time Astarion went out (Zyra didn't know he's a vampire). They worked the night shift, slept at an inn, and would only be back home a couple of days later to make the whole journey worth it.

[mightnotfeelrealbutitsok]

Trying to get into writing practice, using @thepromptfoundry's January prompts (already a day behind)

'First impression'

First impressions don’t last but they linger. They aren’t despotic, don’t cast curses, aren’t the unbreakable casing of a person as people like to warn they are. They never stay. But what they become is perhaps more horrifying than their ‘be all and end all’ brand, nastier to think about. They are relics forgotten on their shelves for the most part, but you can’t get rid of them, like old handmade ornaments that stay year after year – you almost wish they would go missing because you are bound from directly disposing of them yourself. I can think of someone and summon their first impression if I wish, a neat little carved miniature. The illusion of a person, which cannot be dissolved, whether or not it bears any resemblance to the reality of who it is attached to.

The first impression serves mostly as a mirror – you look, expecting to see parts of the person you know, but you just find parts of yourself. Never nice parts – always your most presumptuous, critical, condescending ways of thinking which you thought had come out in the wash by now. The first impression is raw and rude and something you’d be embarrassed for that person to see. Once my best friends demanded we share what we first thought of each other, and I found I couldn’t give them these most heartless case studies of themselves. They told me their cruel things, that I was silent, looked moody and sleep-deprived, but still I never honestly reciprocated, too uncomfortable to admit my own ignorance and prejudice. I guiltily realised my first impressions fixate on idiosyncratic physical traits – repaired chips on the front teeth, bulbous nose shape, odd hair dye, a spot on the cheek amongst the freckles, red-raw fingers, fat under the bra band, tiny childlike frame, startling green eyes like a big-cat, a missing incisor, frizzy hair, loud breathing through the nose. The sketch of the person seems to start at this trait and then scribble off into personhood as more and more is affixed onto it, until the trait ceases to be in the picture at all – and then, it appears, it is cleansed of bias.

This, of course, all assumes that your first impression is never complimentary. Some first impressions can be dreamy – but that never stops them from being wrong. Most people who cast a flawless first impression have no greater merit to be uncovered.

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 3

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Teen Words: 2.5k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Joel

When he can stay awake for more than an hour at a time, he sits in the hard plastic chair by Ellie’s bed, allowing himself to doze while she’s awake; otherwise, he makes it his job to keep watch. It’s partly out of habit, and partly because he doesn’t trust Marlene or her Fireflies any more than he trusted the random strangers they encountered on the road.

When Ellie catches on, she rolls her eyes and tells him to go back to bed, but he doesn’t miss how she shies away from the male guards who accompany Marlene on her regular check-ins, doesn’t forget how she fell asleep clinging to his side when he was sick. She puts on a brave face, but they’ve spent enough time together he knows when she’s anxious or scared.

Nurses come and go, but they don’t do more than take Ellie’s vitals or bring food and take away the empty trays. At points he’s nudged awake and asked to follow a penlight with his eyes, then he’s handed a couple of pills. 

“It’s Tylenol,” the nurse says when he looks at her the first time. “Your head’s killing you, right?”

It is. He doesn’t take the pills.

For all her protests, Ellie sleeps a lot, too. But after a couple days of just sitting around, she nudges him out of a light sleep with obvious irritation.

“Dude, you stink. They have hot water.”

“Not leavin’ you alone–”

“I’m not ‘alone’, the bathroom’s right there,” she says, gesturing to the door on the other side of the room. “And I think I can take care of myself for ten minutes.”

“I know that. I trust you. But I don’t trust them,” he mutters.

“What’re they gonna do? They’re not going to kill me, Joel. They need me.”

I need you more , he thinks selfishly.

“Seriously. If they come at me with a needle I’ll yell or something. But I’m gonna pass out if I have to keep smelling you. You’re a fucking biohazard.”

“Fine. Ten minutes,” he grumbles. “But don’t move. And if anyone comes in here–”

“I’ll scream bloody murder,” she says flatly, waving her hand in front of her nose. “Just go , stinky.”

Marlene left them fresh clothes; pre-outbreak scrubs scrounged from the hospital lockers if Joel had to guess. He grabs a set of light blue ones and shuts the bathroom door behind him none too gently.

In the sterile, antiseptic-laden air, he has to admit Ellie is right. He’s foul. He starts the shower and turns it to the hottest setting. The water pressure is furious and the tiny room immediately begins to fill with steam.

He gets his first look at himself in the mirror over the sink and flinches at the sight. Hair shaggy and matted, patchy beard grown over with stubble, and bruises and scrapes dot his face. There’s a crusty brown scab on one side of his head and he can feel the goose egg knot at the back, both still tender. The picture doesn’t improve when he eases out of his flannel and peels off his soiled undershirt, wincing; his stomach bears a dark purple-red mark in the shape of a rifle butt and he can see the outline of his ribs.

Turning away, he finishes undressing and steps under the stream. The pressure on his bruises and cuts is a special kind of agony, but the heat loosens his muscles. The water at his feet runs a murky gray-brown for several minutes. There’s a single bar of soap–no shampoo, no conditioner, none of the fancy stuff they had in Jackson. The thought brings an unexpected pang of homesickness for a place he has yet to call home. He thinks he should try to find a way to make contact with Tommy, let him know they made it, but he doesn’t know how to go about it without revealing his brother’s location to the Fireflies and putting the settlement at risk. He shelves the idea for now, another problem for another day.

It takes longer than his promised ten minutes just to get the layers of road dirt and grime off his skin, out of his hair. When he finally emerges from the shower, his flesh is a raw bright pink and he’s almost woozy from the heat, but he feels slightly closer to human.

Voices outside put a knot in his throat.

He stumbles into the scrub pants and yanks open the door. Marlene is sitting on the end of Ellie’s bed, and he’s obviously interrupted a conversation.

“Get away from her,” he growls.

Marlene arches an eyebrow. “Joel–”

“Don’t care, get out,” he snaps.

 “Call off your dog, Ellie,” Marlene smirks.

“Dude, gross,” Ellie mutters, face flaming. “Put a shirt on. No one wants to see that.” 

Frustrated, he turns back and grabs the scrub top, yanking it over his head. Wet patches dot the shoulders where his hair still drips. He has the vague notion that he can’t be very threatening looking like a scruffy drowned rat in blue pajamas and makes a mental note to wash out his real clothes the first chance he gets.

“We’re just talking, Joel,” Marlene sighs when he comes back.

He ignores her, turning to Ellie instead. “Thought I told you to get me.”

“Well, she didn’t try to stick me with any sharp pointy things, so I figured it was fine,” she huffs.

Joel grimaces. “It ain’t about that. And you,” he rounds on Marlene. “I know exactly what you’re doin’. Just like with Tommy, puttin’ all sorts of ideas –”

Marlene scoffs. “Your brother was a grown-ass man who made his own choices. As I heard it,  he wanted to get the fuck away from you.”

“Maybe so, but I ain’t gonna stand here and let you put more of your propaganda bullshit in her head. Did enough a’that already–“

“Oh, please –“

“Oh my fucking god, just fight or fuck already!”

Ellie’s words cut through the room like a knife, temporarily reducing them to stunned silence. 

Joel balks. “The hell–”

“You’re acting like a couple of stupid fucking babies,” she scowls, looking back and forth between them. “Throw hands or kiss about it, but stop fucking arguing about fucking nothing ,” 

“He’s not my type,” Marlene says, lips twitching in a smirk.

“Then I guess you’ll have to take it outside,” she snaps. “Let me know who wins, okay? Jesus.”

“Kid–”

“It’s fine,” Marlene says brusquely, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans. “Another time.”

Joel watches her go, hands on his hips, jaw working. When she’s out of sight, Ellie turns on him, nostrils flaring.

“Dude, we were just talking .”

“Yeah, well…you can talk to me,” he mutters, gathering his pile of filthy clothes from the bathroom floor. “You can’t trust her, Ellie. She’s not good people.”

“Coming from you,” she mutters.

He sets his jaw. “The difference is, I ain’t never pretended to be anythin’ I’m not. Think about that before you go gettin’ all buddy-buddy with the woman who tried to have us killed the minute we set foot here.”

“She didn’t–”

“She sure as hell did. They had eyes on us the whole time. They could just as easily have held us at gunpoint but they bombed us instead, and she’s the only one around here callin’ out orders, ’case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You don’t–”

“I do,” he snaps, shuffling over to his side of the room. He tries to hide it, but the hot shower and this conversation have taken most of his remaining energy. He sinks down onto the bed, facing her.

“I know that woman better’n you, and I know what she’s capable of,” he continues more softly. “She may look like your friend, but…you need to think real long and hard about who you trust, kiddo.”

“So just you, then?”

“While we’re here? Yeah, that’s about right.”

She grimaces, eyes shining as her next words come out in a whisper. “She knew my mom.”

He swallows hard, wondering what Ellie’s mother would think of her little girl being used as the Fireflies’ pin cushion. “Don’t make her a good person.”

Ellie huffs, face darkening. “I’m going to rest. You don’t have to…to watch me or whatever.”

With that, she gets up and snaps the curtain partition between their rooms closed, the rings grating sharply across the metal bar on which they’re strung, effectively ending the conversation. But her words still echo in his ears.

She knew my mom.

Ellie never talked about her mother before. He ignores a pang of jealousy–it’s fuckin’ irrational to be envious of a woman who died years ago. That woman had never seen her daughter’s smile, hadn’t kept her fed and sheltered and safe, hadn’t seen her face light up at the sight of a giraffe or a dumb joke or a new issue of her favorite comic book.

He’d known Ellie less time than her mother had carried her in her womb…but their time together had to count for something.

Selfish old man , he thinks, easing back onto the bed, turning onto his side so his good ear faces up. He stares at the wall, exhausted but unable to sleep, and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to protect the girl from herself.

Ellie

Marlene comes in while Joel is in the shower, and Ellie can’t help but think she timed it that way. She wants to ask why she and Joel are at each other’s throats, then she remembers–something about Tommy and the Fireflies. Ellie knows the feeling, hearing Riley talk about the Fireflies like they were some kind of saving grace, convinced she was going to change the world with a few pipe bombs and a gun, knowing it was all a bunch of bullshit.

The irony is almost painful. Riley would be laughing her ass off now.

Riley.

Her memory is an ache she has too much time to indulge in now that they’re settled. She looks down at her arm, remembers the mall, tucked against Riley’s side as she watched the tendrils under her skin creep up, up, up, so certain she was watching her own death in slow motion.

But then they stopped, and Riley’s hadn’t. Then there was the cold grip of the gun in her hand when Riley’s eyes were no longer hers, when the lips she’d kissed not an hour before twitched and her jaw dropped open in a groan that wasn’t fully human…

“Ellie?”

“Hmm?”

She’s drifted away again. She keeps doing that, her mind going fuzzy and lost in the past. Joel said something about PTSD once, but she was too ashamed to ask what that meant beyond her brain being all fucked up. It always makes Joel nervous, but now Marlene is the one sitting at the end of her bed, looking at her with concern.

“Ellie? I asked what happened in Colorado.”

“Oh. Nothing,” she says automatically.

“Are you sure? You kept talking about it when Joel was unconscious–”

“Nothing happened,” she snaps.

“Did he…hurt you?”

Ellie swallows hard against the lump in her throat. How could she know about David? Did Joel tell her? No, he wouldn’t. Can Marlene see it in her? The darkness, the bad thing, her violent heart. She has the crazy idea that she didn’t get all the blood off, there was so much blood, blood in every crevice, in her ears, in her hair, at the corners of her mouth. Joel’s rough hands cleaning her face with cold snow all those weeks ago, maybe he missed some and that’s how Marlene knows what she did, what she did, what she–

No, dummy. She’s asking about Joel.

Ellie rears back. “Joel would never hurt me.”

Marlene’s disbelief shines in her eyes and suddenly Ellie’s chest hurts with the desperate need to make her understand.

“He would never,” she repeats. “He never…he kept us safe. He protected me. He never– never –he’s not like that.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, the word drawn out. “Okay, Ellie, I hear you. Did someone else hurt you, then?”

She shakes her head tightly.

Marlene clearly doesn’t believe her. Ellie doesn’t care. She’s not having this conversation. She could barely have this conversation with Joel and he’d been there.

“Why did you tell me he left?” 

She asks the question before she can stop herself, eager to change the subject.

“I said he took the payment,” Marlene says carefully. “Not that he left.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Same fucking thing.”

Marlene considers her, tilting her head. “I thought he had left,” she sighs finally. “But obviously he changed his mind.”

Ellie glances at the bathroom door, hears the shower running on the other side. She thinks of Maria and her warning.

The only people who can betray us are the ones we trust.

It’s all so fucking confusing. 

She’s seen the guards. It’s not like Joel just walked out and then turned around and walked back in. He’d had a full escort when he’d found her, hand pressed to the window, relief in his eyes.

But Marlene was honest with her before, too. What reason would she have to lie now? She told her the truth about her bite, about her mother, she told her they could make a cure and even Joel said that was probably true…

It’s all mixed up in Ellie’s head, so tangled and twisted and frustrating she wishes she could disconnect and drift away again.

“You look so much like your mom,” Marlene murmurs, looking at her with a soft expression. “You have her eyes, you know.”

Ellie sniffs. How could she possibly know? She’s never even seen a picture of her mother. She wants to tell Marlene to fuck off, but there’s a sad little orphan inside her who craves every scrap, every morsel of information, ready to accept the broken glass pieces of her history and hold them up to the light to be inspected like treasure.

“I do?”

“You do. And her nose,” she smiles a little, speaking quietly, as if to herself. “And her attitude.”

“Was she a pain in the ass, too?” Ellie mutters.

Marlene laughs. “When she needed to be…yes. She spoke up. Sometimes people think that makes you a pain in the ass, but…sometimes it’s what gets the job done.”

That makes something in Ellie’s chest pull tight, a blush warming her cheeks. It’s a compliment, she thinks, one she’s not sure how to accept.

She’s like her mother.

But she’s been thinking about her father, too. 

No reason.

“Did you know my–”

Before she can finish asking, the bathroom door is flung open and Joel is standing there, half-fucking-naked and pissed off about something, and he and Marlene are arguing, and fuck, she’s tired of listening to them already. They’re fighting like a couple of stupid kids in the rec yard and she just wants to lie down and put her hands over her ears and try to make sense of everything.

Then Marlene leaves and it’s just her and Joel and a stupid lecture about not trusting anyone but him, which is bullshit because they wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Marlene and the Fireflies.

She shuts the curtain on further conversation and doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the day.

[casspurrjoybell-25]

The Healer of Shakkara - Book One

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 25 - The Haven - Part 1

"Well, are you missing anyone, or not?" Anira prompted, when no one answered her.

The party shared looks of mingled hope and dread.

Sevhalim cleared his throat and spoke with a cautious, neutral tone.

"We have lost one of our number recently, yes," he said.

"Big fellow, dark skin?" Zenír gasped.

"Don't get too excited," Anira cautioned, raising her hands.

"He's not in good shape. We found him half-drowned, floating downstream of the falls. He's badly injured. Our healers have done what they can but they're surprised he's lasted as long as he has. Rather than a joyful reunion, you may merely be in time for a second goodbye."

"Bring us to him, please," Zenír said imploringly.

"We would see him either way."

Nodding, Anira beckoned for them to follow her.

"We must bring your other friend, here, to the healing house, anyway," she said, nodding at Obi.

"For him, at least, I think we have a remedy. He is not the first to suffer the bite of a barrowling."

Hardly daring to hope, the group followed her and the two men bearing Obi's stretcher down a winding path leading into the small, bowl-like valley below.

Arched bridges spanned small streams and graceful trees, stone gardens and gravity-fed fountains lined the way.

A pleasant breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scents of warm stone and fragrant vegetation.

Not every scent was pleasant, though and as they crossed a little stream with strangely colorful banks, a smell like rotten eggs stung Galen's nose.

Behn grimaced and swished his hand in front of his face.

"Urgh. Okay, just gonna say that wasn't me."

"It is not anyone... it is sulfur," Anira said.

"Some of the pools and streams here are rich with it and while it may smell unpleasant, we find it to be quite beneficial for the skin. I will show you the bathing pools later. But here is our healing house."

She stopped before a long, low structure with many arches and a long colonnade.

Inside, an open space spanned the length of the building, with arched doorways leading to private chambers on either side.

It reminded Galen of an especially stylish and luxurious stable.

A tall, lean man with a neatly trimmed beard dressed in a simple robe approached them, bearing a bowl and a bundle of cloth.

He looked up as he drew near and frowned.

"What's this, Ani? Another one? Are strangers falling from the skies these days?"

"They are all part of the same shower, it seems," she answered.

"The man of the falls is one of their own. How fares he?"

The bearded man shook his head as he looked the newcomers over with a frown.

"His injuries lie within," he said, tapping the side of his head.

"I have done all I can. The rest is for time and fate to decide."

"Not if Galen has anything to say about it," Behn said confidently but Sev cast him a quelling glance.

"Who or what is Galen?" the man asked.

"I am Galen," said he, stepping forward a little.

"I have... some skill at healing."

The man looked him up and down skeptically.

"Have you trained at the College of Medicine in Naqqir? Served as the Queen of Yuthraka's personal physician? Operated a field hospital in the very midst of battle?"

"No, I haven't," Galen admitted.

"Well, I have. So you may trust me when I say there is no more to be done."

The man turned away, directing the two carrying Obi's stretcher to place him in one of the nearby rooms for treatment.

Galen surprised himself as he spoke up once more.

"I may not have much training or experience, beyond simple remedies," he said. "But my skill is more in magic than in medicines."

"Magic," the man scoffed.

"I'm telling you, the P'Yrha himself couldn't help your friend."

"Don't be an ass, Hadrix," Anira snapped and glanced sharply at Sev.

"If you've done all you can, then what's the harm in letting someone else have a try?"

The bearded man huffed.

"Plenty. I've seen what passes for 'medicine' in most parts of the empire. More often than not, the cure is worse than the disease. But fine... come and see your friend. Anira is right... I doubt you can do much harm now, anyway."

Half hopeful and half fearful of what he would see, Galen followed the man down the long, broad walkway to a chamber with an arched doorway hung with a curtain of cloth.

Pushing the curtain aside, the healer waved them through.

Galen entered and saw a plain, square chamber with a bed, a chair and a small table.

The table held a washbasin and a pile of clean rags.

On the bed, a large figure lay beneath a thin sheet, propped up with pillows.

Bandages encircled the head and chest and a splint immobilized one leg.

He was much thinner than the last time Galen had seen him but he recognized Iksthanis nonetheless.

"The fractures are mending well enough," the healer, Hadrix, said, pulling back the sheet to reveal the rest of Iksthanis's form.

"I've a feeling there may be some bleeding within but the real trouble is the head."

He gestured to the bandages partially obscuring the unconscious man's face.

"If he does not awaken soon, I fear he never will. It's a miracle he survived the fall at all... to hope for more is, perhaps, to beg too much kindness from the Goddesss."

"I have more faith in Thanis' strength and Galen's skill than in all the seven Goddesses combined," Zenír said, moving to stand beside the bed and feeling with a careful touch for the other man's hand.

Galen approached the injured man as well, though he was careful not to touch him and studied him as best he could from afar.

His injuries were much more extensive than a burn or a bite... even Behn's wound had been simple enough, despite its gravity.

Healing Iksthanis would be unlike anything he had attempted yet and he could neither predict success nor guess the toll it might take on him.

All he knew for certain was that it would be high and that he would be in no fit state to travel for some time afterwards.

Turning, he saw his misgivings reflected in the faces of his companions;but along with uncertainty, he saw hope and trust and knew that... whatever the outcome might be... he had to try.

Before he could speak, however, Sev caught his eye and shook his head.

"I see our friend is in excellent hands," he said, addressing the healer.

"Whether or not Galen can help him, it is thanks to you he has the chance to try. You have our gratitude."

He bowed to the healer, then straightened and turned to Anira.

"Meanwhile, my companions and I are weary. We've had a rough night in the snow and now a long march through it, as well. Is there a place we may rest and recover our strength a while?"

"Indeed," Anira answered, with a keen glance at Galen.

"I will show you to the guest quarters."

"Wait," Galen protested.

"We can't just go eat and sleep while Iksthanis suffers. Surely, we..."

Anira held up a hand, silencing him.

"Hadrix, is your patient's condition likely to change in the next few hours?"

The healer shrugged.

"It could deteriorate at any time but it hasn't changed much in the past day or so."

"Good. Send word right away if it does. I'll take our guests to the Guest house."

Hadrix inclined his head.

"Very well. In the meantime, I will attend to the new patient you have brought me, whom it seems magic did not help."

With a withering glance at Galen, he swept from the room and Anira sighed.

"Never mind him. You won't find a finer physician in the empire. The problem is, he knows it. Come... this way."

Reluctantly, Galen left Iksthanis's side but Zenír stayed where he was.

"I will remain here," he said.

"Zen..." Sev sighed.

"You need to eat and rest as much as anyone."

"I will rest later," he replied.

"When Iksthanis is well."

Sev sighed, but made no further argument and followed the others from the room.

[blissfulparker]

Driving First class→T.H

Parings: mechanic!tom x reader

Summary: A bitter fight with your now ex has you taking your car instead of a train for a business trip. Although out of your pettiness and anger, your car breaks down and you are left in the middle of nowhere but luckily Tom sees your distress and the man who works on the car is your best rescue. But he works on you other ways both Physically and emotionally

Warnings: Dom!tom, sub!reader, degrading(only slightly), sex on top of a car, squirting, oral, unprotected sex (this is fictional please use protection!), orgasm denial, power struggle, Tom being scared of women for two seconds

Word count: 5.5k

A/n: yeah so idk why I got so horny all the sudden and wrote this. Tbh...I like this version of tom, whatever this is I kinda like it. Let me know what you guys think, if you want to see more or less but I present to you: the first full fic I’ve written in months!(also I know barely anything about cars so I’m sorry if it’s cringy😭)

“Fuck! Shit! Dammit! Fuck! Fuck!” You scream. Hitting your hands against the steering wheel. Such a stupid idea with a stupid end result how could you not expect it?

Taking a car instead of a plane or a train across the country to avoid your ex on a business trip. Thinking you were being more bold and brave, proving you never needed him in the first place when now you sit stranded out in the middle of nowhere with a smoking engine and only hours until sunset and you’re sweating your ass off in a suit. A suit, who the hell wears a suit on a road trip?

Your Phone only having one bar and giving you 20%, you’re doomed. Doomed to be stranded out here and either killed by a maniac or killed by a bear. If London even had bears you would be killed by one. Wanting to cry and scream and maybe a train seat next to your ex who cheated was a better option than crying in your grandpa’s old Chevy that you thought was a better idea than the Tesla or the BMW. Anything would’ve been a better idea than this one but for once you couldn’t let go of the fiery side to you and just got in a car with your middle finger to your ex thinking you were so much better than a first class seat with expensive champagne.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You say to yourself. Your hands run over your face. As dramatic as you can be you think you feel the end coming. The smoke from the engine never dies down and the sun is getting hotter and hotter. No more bubble gum pop plays from the radio but instead the sound of birds chirping and your paranoia of a bear eating you eats at your ears. You think maybe you should’ve sent that drunk ‘I miss you’ text to your ex back two nights ago when you were drunk to maybe just feel his dick once more and get on a stupid train with him but now you are—

“Miss?” A knock at your window causes you to jump. Screaming as you are met with the face of a man and grabbing your pepper spray from the keys and pointing. Even though the window was rolled up you still point and he backs up with his hands up.

“What the fuck!” You scream as you lower the pepper spray. You don’t know when, don’t know how, but now pulled in front of you was a black SUV that was in much better shape than your car. A man who wore a tight white shirt and had sweet chocolate brown curls stood with a scared look on his face.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve seen your smoke some while back and...and you were slumped over your steering wheel and needed to make sure I didn’t need to call police.” He explained very rushed. You place your hand over your heart, calming yourself as you reached to roll down your window so you can properly talk to him. A harmless boy who was probably on his way home.

“I’m fine.” You almost groan as you put your pepper spray back down. Running your hands over your face once again. Tom takes in how nice you look, black suit and neatly painted nails, you looked expensive so what was such an expensive girl like you doing in such a dirty old car like this?

“You got smoke coming from your car, you don’t look fine miss.” He looks at the cloud that still comes from your car. He has a worried look. You hate that you make the assumption of him being a man so he will know how to fix it but at the same time he was an Angel sent from Heaven,

“The engine blew out...at least I think…” you trail off. Honestly you didn’t know anymore, The last time you worked with a car was when you were 15 and before your grandpa died. The only person who truly taught you about cars now seemed to be reincarnated into the Greek god in front of you.

“Mind if I take a look?” He asked and you nodded as you popped the hood.

Stepping out of your car you join the boy in the front. Taller than him in the heels you wore having him look up at you as if you were the Angel sent down in the moment.

He doesn’t hesitate to dig his fingers into your car. Feeling the overheated engine and you watched as his eyes went in shock and his sigh. You were fucked. Utterly fucked and no, it wasn’t by some hot guy on a plane like you wished in the moment.

“She’s busted.” He looked at you. You almost want to roll your eyes and go ‘thanks’ as if you already didn’t know that. “I might be able to fix her up, gotta take her back to the shop and see what I can do but other than that she’s no good for a ride.” He placed his hands on his hips and looked up at you again.

“You mean it’s like broken broken down?” You start to panic even more. Ruining the BMW was far more worth it than the ‘57 Chevy you drove. No one made a car like this anymore and you adored it. Every chip of paint, every dent, each faded seat you loved as your own.

“I can see what I can do.” He shrugged. He starts to walk to his car, opening the trunk to hook your busted vehicle up to his and drag it back to where he just came from. As he starts to hook up your car you only just stare, watching as he does his work. He rubs his now oily hands on his pant leg before he looks up at you.

“You wanna hop in the front?” He asked and you started walking to your car and he let out a laugh. “No I meant my car, Angel.”

The random man that pulls over on the side of the road, has you pointing your pepper spray one moment ago now has you acting like a idiot as he was so pretty and a gift sent just for you.

“Right,” you walk around to the passengers seat. “Sorry.” You cleared your throat as you sat and waited in silence. Waiting for him to come around and when he does he doesn’t say anything but just starts up the car.

“You’re not going to kill me are you?” You looked over to him who has a goofy grin on his face.

“No sweetheart.” He shakes his head and you sigh in relief. As if he would even tell you that he was going to kill you. “You’re not going to kill me are you? With that spray you’ve got?” He teased and you shook your head.

“No, and sorry, I was just panicked and you are—“ you started but he lets a low laugh that you find so attractive.

“No I get it, you’re fine.” He stared back at the road. You were so use to the city, the tall building and the blinding lights you never really got to see the beauty of London outside of it. The gorgeous countryside you never knew existed actually did. But the countryside only lasted for so long before you were in a town filled with some of the cutest shops and was like a small city. So cute and so tiny.

“You wear heels on a road trip?” He broke the silence again and this time you’re looking at the four inch shoes.

“I-well-“ you looked and sounded like a proper idiot. You worked for one of London’s best businesses and now you were stumbling over your words, “well...yes? I’m on a business trip.” You admit and he looks back at the busted vehicle.

“I don’t know what business you work for but them sending you in a—“ he starts and you shake your head.

“No, no, that is mine. I thought—I didn’t want to go on a train and—it’s just complicated. A complicated stupid mess.” You tell him and he tilts his head as if he was agreeing.

“Well, I’ll see how well I can get you out of the complicated stupid mess.” He flashed a smile before he turned into what looked like a garage. A large garage that was filled with cars of all types, from new to old there were cars that had looked like they had been worked on for days as Tom pulled his car up and turned it off.

“We have some water in the front if you need some and there's a bathroom in the back. Make yourself a home, I'll get started.” and so for once, instead of just staring at him as if he was a piece of art hanging in the louvre, you search for the bathroom and the water he was talking about.

Leaving him to pop back open your hood, you walk into the bathroom and run cold water over your face. Feeling yourself relax at the feeling of finally getting the heat from the sun out of your face. Facing yourself in the mirror, you stare long and hard at yourself. The dimly lit bathroom, the achy feeling in your feet from being so stupid and wearing heels, the fact you broke down in god know what part of london but now you are in a mechanic shop and you are letting some random person fix up your beloved car.

“Should’ve just gotten on the train.” you groan as you take a paper towel and dry your face. Reaching for the door and walking back out to the garage where tom was now in a white tank top that was stained black all over, he had a towel over his shoulder as he worked at your car. You try to swallow the lump in your throat as you are completely mesmerized by the man in front of you.

Should've gotten on the train. Should've gotten on the train. Should've gotten on the train.

“Fuck!” Tom almost hits his head on the hood of the car as he sees you. You think he had curly hair at the start, now he had hair that kind of stuck to his forehead from the heat and sweat of your car. His hands are covered in black oils and he wipes them on the towel. “You scared me.” he lets out a breath as if he held it in and you take a seat at the stool next to the table filled with tools as he walks over to it.

“Sorry,” you say as you look at the car and try not to make it obvious you want to fuck him right now. A complete stranger that picked you up, you want to fuck. What if he did want to kill you? What if he had a girlfriend? Or boyfriend? Or a family of kids? What if-

“You hear me?” he was closer to you than ever and you felt your whole body go weak.

“I'm so sorry,” you shake your head. “What did you say?’

He lets out that stupid pretty laugh of his again as he puts tools back in the tool box. Cleaning up the mess he just made he repeats himself.

“I said, your car is so old that they don't make the part I need to fix her up anymore. Luckily I know a guy who has the part but it will take a few days to come in. the engine is completely busted and i think if i go a year up in model I can put it in just right. But for now she needs to cool off. She’s not gonna be able to drive for a while.” he gives you almost a pout and you slouch your shoulders.

“So I'm screwed?” your brows raised and he gave you a pressed lipped look.

“Im sorry angel, I got a spare room at my place or there is a bed and breakfast up the road I can drop you off at but for now there is nothing I can do.” he says and you sigh. Maybe you want to cry, scream, throw something but Tom notices it all at once as he watches your head drop.

Tom grew up around boys. His whole life was wrestling with his brothers and working on cars. He never dealt with girls crying. Even when he had girlfriends they typically left when they were crying but now he has a crying girl right under his roof after he worked on her car. It did take everything in him to not ask why she used the old thing but he knew a lot more was happening than just a beat down old car.

“I'm sorry. I should thank you, not cry.” you sniffled as you looked up at him who was on his knees crouched down for you. Face to face, he had a concerned look.

“I have a feeling that car isn't why you’re crying.” he didn't know how to play therapist and mechanic but tonight he would.

“I was so stupid not to just get on the train. God, I would have already been there by now and all because I didnt want to sit next to my stupid cheating ex who I thought I was so much better than if I just got in this old thing and drove there myself.” you wipe your eyes and he hands you a tissue but you shake your head.

“He sounds like a shit guy.” He spoke and you nodded.

“He is, but he was the only one that gave a shit about me and now I'm here like an idiot. Well, not an idiot...no, yeah. An idiot. You're really nice and sweet though so thank you.” you try and give him a smile and he stands up.

“Get up.” he groans a bit as he stretches his legs. “C’mon sweets, get up. I’m not going to let you cry over a guy who treated you like shit. You drink?” he asked and you nodded. “I have some beer in the fridge, you already had a shit day let's not cry about it.”

You don't know if you wanted to throw the wrench at him or if you needed him to say that. Either way he sets an ice cold beer in front of you and pops open the top for you.

Probably making more money than everyone in this town, you never thought you would plop down on a nearly broken bar stool in the middle of a car mechanic shop and drink away your feelings with a random man you just met today. You didnt even know his name, nor did he know yours but he listened to everything you had to say about your ex boyfriend who was probably fucking some model right now while you for once felt like you didnt have to play pretend nice in front of someone. How you don't know what god above sent this man in front of you but he did and he listened to each of your problems, nodding and not saying anything back as he just listened to everything.

“I used to work on cars too.” you look over at the cars and he raises his brows.you had finally stopped crying so much, realizing what was happening and where you were but you felt like a weight was taken off your shoulders when you told him everything. Not even your best friend could make you feel like that.

“Penthouse princess used to work on cars?” he teased and you only nudged his shoulder.

“Wow, penthouse princess?” you repeat back to him with a playful smile and he nods.

“Never got your name and you live in a penthouse and act like a princess.” he takes a sip of his beer and you finally extend your hand to meet his.

“(y/n).” you shook his dirty one but wow were his hands thick. You could feel each callous and feel each crooked finger. Your mind went to dirty places and you think maybe he caught on as he watched your legs cross over themselves as you shook his hand.

“Tom.” his thumb swiped over yours as he shook your hand. The feeling made you swallow hard and him smirk just a bit for himself. Before you could get too comfy you walked over to a truck that already had its hood popped open. You stumble a bit in your heels and the uneven ground and Tom is quick to follow you to make sure you don't hurt yourself.

“That's the engine.” you point. And he nods, his hand is on his hips as he watches you point and explain. “That's the brake pad, that's where you put in the oil…” you trail on and Tom nods as you get everything correct.

“Very good, darling.” he nods impressed and you look over at him with a smirk.

“What? No penthouse princess?” you're close to him. You didn't realize how close he was to you before you turned around and are almost chest to chest with him.

“Mmh, you have a preference?” he teased and you look down at your feet. You're still taller than him, but you think even without the heels on you would be either taller or the same height as him. You were always told that you were the one in control, always the one in demand which seemed to be a complaint by your ex.

“Mmh,” you lean in close enough to where your chest is gently pressed against his. “I'm not sure yet.” you let your hand go to the strap of his tank top, its dirty with oil before you let your hands go down and touch the muscle. Feeling just how strong he was, he was pretty tanned too. He was both toned and tanned as he watched your hands trail down to the bottom of his shirt.

His hands rested on your waist. Holding you tight in place and maybe in the moment he was the shorter on but he was always in control. Always.

“You seem so indecisive, do you want to drive or get on a train? Get back with a man or stay away? You don't even know where you want to sleep at night but you still act like you're so in control.” he almost mocks, giving you the same pout you had throughout the entire night and it shocked you.

“I know what I want.” you nearly snarl back and he clicks his tongue.

“Yeah?” he almost whispers as he leans in for your ear. “Prove it.”

You don't know when or how but his lips quickly land on yours. In a rough fight for dominance he has his hands wrapped around your thighs and has you picked up and laid down on one of the cars with a hood down. You don't realize it's your car with his hood down until you brace yourself on the hood. Stripping of your suit jacket and fiddling with your pants button but tom is already on it. He's down on his knees, undoing the straps of your shoes as he lets his hands go up and undo the buttons of your pants. Having you nearly completely naked in front of him, that's not exactly what he was going for as he picks you up from the hood as has you on your knees in front of him.

“Was so cute, you thought you were going to get exactly what you wanted.” his hand was dirty as it stroked your face but landed a grip on your chin. Pulling you in close, your head in between his thighs looking up at him with pleading eyes. You almost whimper, you were on your knees for a man you didn't know and you were almost whimpering.

“Dont act stupid.” he nearly spit at you as he leaned back. Your hands are going to unzip his pants but he stops you. Forcing you to rest your hands on his thighs as he pulls himself out of his pants. You swallowed hard as he was bigger than you had expected--far bigger than your ex as you felt like your mouth was watering as he used his thumb to stroke over the tip.

“Stick your tongue out.” he told you. You gladly stuck your tongue out with your mouth wide and ready to take him. He had one grip on your jaw and the other guiding his cock into your mouth. You start to suck but that's not what he wanted. He held your jaw in place as he thrusted up into you.

“Thats a good girl,” he hissed as he used your mouth as if it was his own personal toy. You reached to stroke what couldnt fit in your mouth and he let out an airy laugh. “What a little whore you are.” he shook his head. “So desperate, is this not enough for you? Sucking on my cock not enough for you?” he taunted you and you only moan—or at least try to moan and he laughs.

“What was that darling? I can't seem to hear you?” he teased and you only whined more with your mouth around him. You play a game with yourself where you think you can make him cum like this. Making him cum this early would mean that you always were more incharge from the start. But you barely know him, you don't know how long he can last.

“Get up.” he pulls your head off of him. His cock still hard as it fell onto his stomach and you were drooling with his precum. Your eyes don't even look up at him you look at the redness of his cock, how you want more of it and maybe you were the whore like he said.

“Look at me,” he pulled you up, now face to face with him. His hand that was free slips in between thighs, teasing as he gets closer and closer to your core and he clicks his tongue again. “Such a dirty girl, don't even want to look at me, say thank you, you just look at my cock wanting more. You want more?” he strokes your cheek and you nod. “What was that? A moment ago I thought I was talking to one of the richest girls in London but now I feel like I'm talking to just some whore--” he starts to talk but your lips are already on his. You straddle his hips. Extremely unsturdy but he quickly picks you up and flips you over. As much as he'd loved to see what you look like on top of him. Tits bouncing for him and trying to hold on, here was not the best place. He would get a better view later, he just knew it.

For now he flips you over on your stomach. You're pressed up against the car as he wraps his hand around your waist and uses his fingers for a bit.

“So fucking tight.” he slides in slowly at first. Making you gasp and him hiss. “That other boy fuck you like this?” he asked but you were too busy trying to feel more of him. His hand comes down to your ass and in shock you yelp. “I asked you a question, don't say you don't know manners either.'' He was close to your ear and you shook your head no.

“No!” you nearly cry out as he pushes into you. Completely filling you up. You feel tears perk at the corner of your eyes for how desperately you needed him. You even push back on him and he lets out a soft laugh. “H-he's never fucked me like this, god tom please move!” you cry out. His hands come to your waist and he clicks his tongue again.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he teased as he pulled himself fully out and pushed himself fully back in. you cry out, not caring who heard you, you cried out as he fucked into you like you two were the last people on earth.

“Fuck youre so tight.” he threw his head back as he held on to your hips. You felt yourself give up under him. There was no use in you trying to take control anymore when he did this to you. Had you dumbed down just for his dick.

“I need to cum tom.” you cry out. You try and open your eyes to look back at him who has created a rhythm for your body. His head is thrown back and he shakes his head.

“No.” was all he said and you nearly cry more. “Not yet.” was all he said as he went faster.

“Please, please, please.” you begged between a mixture of moans and cries. Reaching back to hold his hands but he quickly moved them to wrap around your waist and touch your clit. Using his thumb to rub gentle circles you nearly

“So cute when you whine like that.” he chuckled. You felt him twitch, knowing he was close too, you clenched your walls around him. You could barely hear his gasp but you have your cheek pushed up against the hood of your car that got you here in the first place.

“Fuck,” he struglld to moan out. “C-Cum for me.” he sped up and your whole body went numb. You swear you pass out for a moment as all you hear are his moans and the sudden feeling of him stopping.

Both heavy breathing you slowly move yourself to get up, at least turn yourself around so you can face a clearly stunned tom. His mouth open just a bit and his eyes are wide.

“Y-you squirted.” he tells you and suddenly you go from feeling like the sexiest person alive to feeling your body heat up in full embarrassment.

“I-i'm so sorry i-i didn't know-” you start to stammer as you reach for your shirt to clean him up but he shakes his head still trying to catch his breath.

“No, It was hot.” he says as his shock turns into a small smirk, cocky that he was able to do that. “Fuck, have you ever done that before?” he asked.

Your cheeks heated up, even though he couldn't see the clear embarrassment you nodded. One time, years ago when you were by yourself. You hadn't touched yourself in over a month and it was just the highest setting of your vibe and the hottest porn star you could find that had done it to you. Never ever had an actual man been able to make you do that. Hell, you were lucky if your ex even made you cum.

“O-Once, once but I was by myself.” you swallowed hard, you could already see the smirk on his face as he knew he was so much better than anyone you had ever had. He didn't even know your ex partners but if he could get you to do that the first time he fucked you then even you knew you didn't need anyone else.

He uses his clean shirt to clean you up. Helping you slip back on your underwear and making sure that you could still walk--you barely could. He helps you into his car. Letting you cool down a bit before he drove out of the garage, driving down the road and it was only about a minute until you arrived at the cutest house you had ever seen.

He lifted you out and brought you inside, passing you clothes that were far better to sleep in than a suit and your completely ruined underwear, you found yourself getting comfy under his bedsheets.

“So im guessing im not going to the bed and breakfast for the night?” you nuzzled into the sheets that smelt of ocean spray and cedarwood. This man was some sort of god, you swore on it.

“Hmm, no. unless you still want to.” he slides under the sheets himself. His hands dont touch you but you gladly lean in and wrap your arms around him. He at first stills, stiffens his whole body before he relaxes for you. He didn't even know what he was thinking. First he helps the pretty girl he worried was dead on the side of the road and now he has her in his bed after having one of the best orgasms of his life.

“No,” you hum against his chest. “If you don't mind.” but it wasn't a question. This time you take control over the situation and fall quickly asleep in his arms. He only lays there, waiting for you to find yourself fully asleep.

Fuck that stupid train, fuck your stupid ex, and fuck him.

-

Dark roast and sizzling eggs fill your nose. You wake up with puffy eyes, from crying last night embarrassingly in Tom's arms you look down and see you're only in a random stained tee and your underwear. In a way,you thought you hit your head hard enough on the steering wheel that all of this was a dream but it was real. You lay in a grey sheeted bed and hear the sound of music come from the kitchen.

Ideally, if you got on the train, you would have woken up in a hotel with a view of the city and probably eat half of a bagel and drink rich coffee from the breakfast bar before being off to your first conference of the day. But you were instead naked in the bed of a man who was helping you fix your car.

You stumble out of the bed, your legs wobbly, feeling as if you did a hardcore work out you nearly wince. What the man did was something you swore was only in porn. You don't know what kind of magic fucked him over while he works on cars but his fingers were skilled.

“Woah, woah,” Tom came over to you. Plaid boxers and no shirt, you think you died and went to heaven. Your car exploded and you died and went to heaven and if this is what it was then you were perfectly okay with that. “You okay?”

You nod, sitting at the island and only watching him. You knew you had to say a word soon but you didn't know what to say.

“Not so sure how you liked your eggs so I made them scrambled because that's personally how I like them but I can make them any other way you like-” he starts to go off and you only nod.

“No, I like scrambled.” When was the last time you had a breakfast like this? You grew up with servants and your parents are always gone. You never had a breakfast as simple as this.

He gave you a smile, you walked over to the coffee machine and poured coffee into the mug that was already out.

“Not sure if you were a coffee or tea type of person, if you-” before you could listen to his ramble again you shook your head.

“I like coffee. Coffee for the morning and tea typically in the evening.” you tell him and he gives a smile and a sweet nod.

“Me too.” was all he said before he remembered what was happening. “Hey, when do you have to be at that business trip? Or whatever it was?” you nearly spit out the coffee as he brings it up. You knew everything that was happening but honestly you were holding on to the concept you died and went to heaven but you had a conference in probably an hour and who the hell knows where you are.

“You know what,” your heart suddenly calms down. The panic subsides as you take another sip of that coffee. “Fuck them. They have waited for others before and they can wait for me. Fuck the trip, fuck the car and fuck my ex.” you felt good saying it. Tom slid you a plate of eggs and toast and you smiled.

“The car is still better than the train?” He remembers how all of this is about you and your ex fighting and you not wanting to sit on the train next to him.

With a smile, with everything that had happened within the past 24 hours, you pick up the plate and turn to tom.

“I don't think I should've taken the train.”

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Tagged for mechanic!tom: @londonspidey

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

[pars-ley]

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae​ thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub​ for @yutasgalaxy​ really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk​ @vantxx95​

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of. 

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face. 

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here? 

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed. 

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either. 

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both. 

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back." 

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more. 

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed. 

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him. 

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely. 

[sserpente]

A/N: This Imagine takes place in London because why not.

Words: 1128 Warnings: fluff

It had all started with a rainy London day. Loki was rather keen on staying in to read in peace in the spacious hotel room you had made yourselves comfortable in—but it was still London, for Heaven’s sake. You still had so much to explore and as luck would have it, there was currently an exhibition on Norse Mythology at the British Museum and you, dating the God of Mischief himself, were absolutely not going to miss it.

“Loki, please, it’ll be fun!”

“I am not visiting a Midgardian museum, let alone an exhibition on Norse culture. Your inaccuracies are pathetic.”

“Then it will be even more fun because you’ll be able to call them out on their mistakes and intimidate them a little?” You tried, smiling up at him innocently. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes. That did sound quite tempting, actually. And you were rather adorable when you begged him.

Convincing him had been quite the challenge, you thought to yourself, giggling quietly as you now headed towards Oxford Circus to have a simple lunch at McDonald’s and do some window shopping in the process. Who cared about the rain anyway? Certainly not the Londoners.

Little did you know that the remainder of the day would soon escalate when Loki suddenly stopped in front of one of the many American candy shops spreading their sweet scent all over Oxford Street. The entire shop was bright and colourful, like an episode from Lazy Town, with funky music blasting from the speakers. Intrigued, he tilted his head and studied the many shelves towering all the way up to the ceiling, filled to the brim with sweets and candy and even more sweets.

Loki had told you he was unfamiliar with the majority of Midgardian treats. He knew chocolate and biscuits with sugar but other than that… other than that he was pretty much clueless, even more so when you had introduced him to things like Poptarts, chewing gum and marshmallows. And boy, was he a sweet tooth.

He would never admit it but you noticed his blue eyes widen just a bit.

“You want to go inside, don’t you?” You said, making sure you wouldn’t bump into the hordes of tourists rushing past you. But the God of Mischief had already entered the shop, looking around with slightly parted lips—amazed by what caught his eye. It was downright adorable. Giggling, you contemplated recording him with your phone but you didn’t want to risk another spanking tonight.

Loki walked further into the shop, ignoring the employees with their purple shirts who nodded at him politely. If they recognised him, they pretended not to but the God of Mischief was more interesting anyway. Especially when he reached the massive buffet-like candy station in the back of the shop with mountains of gummy bears and similar candy shaped like worms, fruit and vegetables, animals or thick sugar cubes. Unceremoniously, he stepped forward, reached for a blue marshmallow which, ironically, looked a little like the Tesseract and let it disappear between his thin lips.

“Loki! You’re not supposed to eat it here! Go get a bag and pour some in there so we can pay for them!” You chastised him, pressing your lips together only a breath later to not burst out laughing. But the God of Mischief only winked at you, chewing away.

“If they did not want people to help themselves, then why would they put this in the middle of their shop?” He responded, proceeding to try pretty much every single kind of candy the store had to offer.

“Loki, no!” You laughed. “You’re supposed to scoop it in a paper bag with the little shovels here and then pay for it. Come on, please! I don’t want to get in trouble with the shop owner.”

Unsurprisingly enough though, Loki was smart about his candy hunt and not once caught with his hands in the candy piles. You shook your head, both amused and frustrated with the whole situation.

“Go ahead and pick some things then once you’re finished.”

Loki’s eyes lit up, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips. He raised his hands, tilting his head a bit. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, go right ahead.”

Sonic was a joke compared to him. Loki soon found the colourful shopping baskets provided for customers and he was quick to fill it up to the brim. You spotted him picking up some Red Vines, Hershey’s Chocolate, Poprockets, Nerds, Oreos and KitKats in different flavours, sweet popcorn, caramel popcorn and even more.

When he returned to you, he was practically breathing heavily and smiling like a cat that got the cream. You resisted brushing the loose raven hairstreak hanging into his face behind his ear but instead forced your attention on the shopping basket that he placed on the floor before you.

“Loki, are you crazy? I don’t have that much cash on me! This American candy stuff costs a fortune!”

For just a split second, he got serious and frowned. “Now that can easily be dealt with.” He winked, materialising a bundle of British banknotes in his hands. You chuckled.

“You know, I’m pretty sure this is illegal.”

“Darling, I am illegal.” You squealed when he picked you up and all but swept you off your feet, swirling you around a couple of times. Laughing, you held on to him.

“Heavens, you’re even worse when you’re on a sugar rush than when you’re drunk!”

“Come now! That’s the least you owe me after that terribly inaccurate exhibition.”

“Oh, that’s what this is about now, huh? I see.” You crossed your arms before your chest, laughing when he finally let you down again. Loki winked once more and then rushed off to fill up yet another basket. Well, at least you wouldn’t really have to pay for it and you’d be lying if you claimed you felt guilty about it. You rarely saw Loki drunk and it was always a fun experience whenever he had one over the eight but this was a hundred times better.

He was much like an excited child you had brought here for it to pick whatever it wanted. Oh, who were you kidding? He was exactly like that.

“What’s that?” You almost flinched when he appeared next to you again, holding up a plastic bucket filled with pink and blue cotton candy.

“Cotton candy. Made entirely of sugar.”

“It looks like a trapped cloud,” Loki remarked, flabbergasted. Oh, Jesus Christ…

“Yeah. It’s very soft. Dissolves on your tongue,” you said. Loki raised his eyebrows—and then the bucket landed in the shopping basket.

You had a feeling that it would take quite a while longer until you’d finally get your McDonald’s burger now…

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, come leave a heart! ♥

ko-fi.com/sserpente ☕

[tommybaholland]

“my anxiety isn’t that bad” aka little habits their s/o has that they help to try to relieve 

featuring: kuroo, kenma, akaashi and bokuto

inspired by this post. this is not to try to romanticize anxiety and/or mental illness! hopefully this will help anyone who experiences any of these behaviors and possibly provide some distraction with your fav hq boys! hope you enjoy <3

kuroo

winter is beautiful, but the dryness it caused to your lips was definitely a low point. especially when the uncomfortable feeling of the chapped skin against your upper lip was enough to make you vigorously pick at it. sometimes you pick at them so much the skin breaks and bleeds a little. 

it hurts but it’s never really bothered you that much. however, kuroo had to say something after tasting the liquid metal on your lips. 

“kitten, have you been picking at your lips again?”

“... you’ve noticed?”

“of course, sweetheart. i think you do it more than you know.” he holds your chin while pulling your lower lip down to see the little scabs along with a fresh spot with dots of blood painting the skin. 

“oh kitten,” he frowned. “you don’t have to tell me but i want to better understand why you do this to yourself. i don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“it’s okay, tetsu. i dunno why i do it. like you said, it’s kind of second nature at this point. but i guess it mostly happens when i’m thinking about something. i’m sorry if it worried you..”

“no, no, no kitten. you don’t have to be sorry,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your head. “but thank you for telling me. now what’s got this pretty little mind so mixed up that those pretty lips are bleeding, hm?”

it was always something different but nevertheless, you were constantly worrying about something. and if you didn’t worry about it, something bad or inconvenient would happen. 

“i’m sorry you feel that way, babe,” he soothed, the tips of his fingers drumming on the middle of your back. “you can tell me about anything that’s bothering you...or i can get you some chapstick so everytime you feel like picking you can just put that on and eventually it’ll replace the habit!”

“but for now...lemme distract you with some kisses,” he spoke against your lips. “mmm, c’mere gorgeous.”

kenma

you liked playing games with kenma but sometimes you just liked to sit and watch him as he played. until one hour would become two, two became three. boy could play for literal hours on end, no matter who was with him or the time of day. so it could get a little tiring after a while and you could feel the urge to do something else, something a little more active. 

your leg began to bounce against the edge of his bed. 

“y/n, you’re doing it again,” his soft voice spoke up, his attention unbroken from the tv. 

“oh sorry, ken. just feeling a bit restless.”

you moved off the bed and onto the floor, resting up against the side of the frame so your leg bouncing wouldn’t bother him. 

kenma played for a few more minutes before completing another stage, sighing with sudden boredom. he then looked over to see that you had disappeared. 

“y/n?.....there you are,” peeking over the side of the bed to see you playing on your phone. “what’re you doing on the floor?”

“my leg started bouncing a lot and i didn’t want to bother you.”

he sighed before reaching out his hand. “c’mon snuggles. get up here.”

you took his invitation and climbed back up onto the bed where he pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling him. 

“you know, you never bother me,” he grinned. “but you can let me know if you wanna go do something, okay?”

you nodded, copying his grin before giving him a few small kisses and pulling him into a hug.

“do you want to go for a walk? we could go to the park or something.”

you agreed immediately, ready to stretch your legs a bit. you excitedly climbed out of his lap, stretching as soon as your feet hit the floor. 

he smiled and chuckled softly at your sudden perkiness. “okay, let’s go cutie.”

akaashi

you always had your phone on you. you never went anywhere without it and never missed any notifications you would receive, even if it was a dumb spam email. and if you didn’t have you phone, well--

“keiji, where’s my phone?” you asked your boyfriend while feeling around the couch to see if it had fallen in between the cushions.

“what’s wrong, baby? aren’t you enjoying the movie?” 

“i am but i just need to— you have it don’t you?”

a smirk crept up on his pretty face as if he was trying not to laugh. “i don’t know what you’re talking about—whoa baby.”

he giggled as your hands began patting him down, trying to locate the device. 

“please kaashi, i need it—”

“baby, stop. you know i’m ticklish,” he grabbed your wrists to cease your movement. “why do you need it so bad?”

“i just wanna check it, you know, to make sure i haven’t missed anything or anyone’s tried to reach me.”

his hands released your wrists and found their way around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “baby, i promise you, nothing’s happened. everything is okay.”

“but how do you know?”

he reached behind him and pulled out the thing you were looking for. “because it hasn’t vibrated once. do you want it back?”

“yes, thank you-- wait...please tell me it wasn’t down your pants.”

another smirk appeared. “maybe...you’d have to find out for yourself.”

“okay nevermind, you can keep it,” you replied, moving off him.

he captured you back into his arms before handing you your phone. “no, no baby, i’m just kidding,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek. “you’re so cute.” 

bokuto

“babeeeeee, can we please stop for a minute? my feet are about to fall off.”

and hiking was his idea. 

“i thought i was with one of the top five aces in the nation, but it seems like you’re out of shape to me,” you teased, looking back to your boyfriend. 

“ i am NOT out of shape, babe,” he retorts. “besides, maybe i’m just enjoying the view..”

“okay, i’m really about to leave you behind--”

“i’m kidding! i’m sorry, beautiful. you do walk very fast though and to be honest, i really underestimated your stride.” 

“i always walk like this, kou.”

he jogs to catch up with you, taking your hand in his. “i know, babe. but can we please take a break? my feet do hurt.”

you finally agree and he leads you off the trail. you sit down on dry ground, where the light was hitting just right. 

“move over here, lemme put my arm around you.” 

you move over into his side, wrapping an arm around his torso. the scene was rather picturesque: wind softly blowing through the trees, birds chirping and the sound of flowing water from the lake in front of you. 

“see, isn’t this nice? so now you can rest your pretty legs,” he remarks, rubbing a hand over your thigh. 

“you know, i love that you’re into being active and i was so excited when you agreed to come on this hike with me. but we’re not in any rush..it’s okay to slow down.”

“i’m sorry--”

“no need to apologize, babe. it’s okay,” he reassures, rubbing your shoulder. “but also i just don’t know how to keep up with you. i’m fully admitting it: my s/o is a badass.”

“well, yeah, maybe i’m just trying to keep you on your toes, literally,” you laugh. “but i’ll try to take everything in a little more. i definitely don’t want to miss anything with you.”

you try to resist when he attempts to bear hug you. “nooo, i’m all sweaty. kou, stop.”

“it’s okay, i like that you’re sweaty. actually, i love it.” 

you giggle as he begins to kiss your neck, nibbling lightly on the skin. “okay, now it’s your turn to slow down, big boy.”

hellooooo haikyuu night! requests very much welcome

[crackheadgeminibby]

first meeting

pairing: chris evans x black!reader

warnings: language, age gap, fluff

word count: 1.4k

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

“Chris! Come on, we’re already late!”

“Yeah, gimme a sec!”

“You said that 30 minutes ago, what are you even doing up there?”

You take off your heels and coat and climb up the stairs. As you’re approaching your shared bedroom with Chris, you can hear him groan loudly and sigh. When you open the door, you see that Chris’ entire wardrobe is spread out over the bed, dresser and floor.

“Jesus Christ, Chris, what the hell is going on in here?”

“All of my clothes are either old, dirty or ugly. I literally have nothing to wear. I can’t go meet your parents looking like a fucking dumbass!”

You snort lightly and start laughing but quickly stop when you see his face.

“This isn’t funny”, he says while narrowing his eyes.

You smile and laugh slightly and say, “I’m sorry, it just kinda is… The first thing you wore was literally fine, Chris. Just put it back on so we can leave.”

“No…”, he whines. “My shirt was a weird color, your parents are gonna think I don’t know how to dress myself.”

“Chris, it’s fine, I promise. We’re just going to dinner and my parents are going to love you. They literally couldn’t care less what you show up in.”

Chris looks at you with a desperate expression for a couple of seconds before sighing loudly.

“Fine, I’ll be down in 5 minutes.”

“Finally! I’m gonna wait for you in the car.”

You go back downstairs and go to your car when you hear a new text message coming in.

dad, 5:50pm:

Hi honey, is everything okay? Are you guys getting here soon?

You softly smile at your dad’s worry.

you, 5:51pm:

hey dad everything’s fine

i couldn’t find my wallet but we’re on our way over now

see you in 20

You’re turning your music on when you see Chris closing and locking the front door. As soon as he gets in the car, his leg starts shaking up and down.

“Chris, it’ll be fine, I promise”, you say softly, while smiling over at him.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and nods his head slightly.

As you’re locking the car and walking over to the restaurant’s door, you take Chris’ hand in your own and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. You look over at him and ask,

“You ready?”

“Not really, but it’s now or never, right?”

As soon as you approach the restaurant, the hostess opens and holds the door for you. You slide into the restaurant while thanking her and immediately take Chris’ hand again, knowing that it calms him down.

The hostess smiles warmly at you and asks,

“Hi! Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes! Y/L/N for 4, there should already be two people here.”

“Yes, absolutely, let me show you to your table.”

You follow the hostess to the back of the restaurant.

When you had started dating Chris a year before, you were confused as to why he never seemed to want to go to the restaurant with you. After a particularly animated conversation, he had admitted that he didn’t want people to see you together at the restaurant because they would automatically start talking about you and he didn’t want your relationship to be as public as his previous ones had been. Since that day, you had picked up the habit of always asking for a table in the back of the restaurant whenever you went out together.

As soon as you see your parents, you feel your smile growing as well as Chris’ hand getting even clammier. You look up at him and smile warmly, trying to give him a final boost of calmness before meeting your parents.

Your dad is the first one to see you and as soon as he does, he gets up from the table and meets Chris and you in front of the table. You let go of Chris’ hand and engulf your dad in a bear hug. 25 years old or not, you were still a daddy’s girl, just like when you were a kid.

You normally saw your parents every month or so, but you had been so busy running around for work lately that you hadn’t seen them in over 3 months.

“Dad! I missed you guys so much, oh my god!”

“Hi, honey. We missed you too”, your dad answers while chuckling lightly.

You let go of your dad and reach over to hug your mom as you see that your dad is looking Chris up and down while Chris is just standing to the side.

“Mom!”

“Hi, baby. How are you?”, your mom asks as you’re letting go of her.

You smile warmly and put your hand on Chris’ arm.

“I’m doing great! Mom, Dad, this is Chris, my boyfriend. Chris, these are my parents.”

Chris smiles tightly and says, “Hi Mr. and Mrs. (Y/L/N). It’s really nice to meet you both”, Chris says while shaking the hand that your dad is holding out to him. He holds his hand out to your mom, but she smiles warmly at him.

“Nonsense. Come give me a hug!” Chris then awkwardly shuffles over to your mom and hugs her. You snort lightly at his clear but unnecessary discomfort.

After letting go of Chris, your mom walks back to her chair, followed by your dad. Chris takes your coat and then pulls your chair back for you to sit. You smile at him and softly thank him.

As Chris sits down, he immediately reaches for your hand under the table and starts to play with your fingers, as he often does when trying to control his anxiety.

Your dad clears his throat and asks, “So, how did you two meet?”

As time passes and drinks go by, Chris gets visibly more comfortable and even starts to crack some jokes. Despite your dad’s obvious overprotectiveness at first, even he had started to loosen up and laugh at Chris’ jokes.

As the waiter drops the check at the middle of the table, Chris and your dad both reach for it. Chris immediately smiles at your dad, “I’m the one who invited all of you to dinner. The least I can do is take care of the check.”

You see your dad hesitate before he gives his approval nod and removes his hand.

As Chris is paying, your parents start to get up and prepare to leave. You also get up and put your coat back on as Chris finishes paying.

Your dad smiles at Chris and shakes his hand, both clearly more relaxed than at the beginning of the dinner, while you hug your mom.

“It was really nice to meet you, Chris. Hopefully, we will see each other again soon, right (Y/N)?”

You playfully roll your eyes at your dad’s comment. “Yes, Dad, I know.”

You tightly hug your dad while your mom gives a warm hug to Chris.

“I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

Both your parents smile back at you and tell you to get home safe.

Chris picks his coat up from the back of his chair and stretches before putting his arm around your shoulders as you take his hand in yours.

“You see? It wasn’t that bad. My parents literally loved you!” Chris scoffs lightly.

“Yeah, after your dad spent like 10 minutes giving me a death glare. I almost peed my fucking pants!”

You laugh heartedly at Chris’ comment before answering, “Come on, he’s just being protective of his little girl.”

“True. Can’t blame him for not wanting my beautiful girlfriend to be with just anyone.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Yeah, wait until we have a baby girl. See if you won’t beat up any guy that looks her way.”

Your breath hitches slightly as you realize you just implied that you wanted to have a family with Chris.

He stops walking as you reach your car and lifts up your chin.

“Hmm… Is that so? A mini (Y/N) Evans. I think I can see that happening, yeah?”

A smile draws itself on your face as Chris’ words register in your mind.

“Yeah”, you chuckle as Chris bends down to kiss you.