#in the meantime I’m going to take some time to Recover

[willowfoot]

Despite having not experienced the fanfic urge for some time, I am suddenly this 🤏 close to writing lonelyeyes fic because those two evil old men have planted themselves directly in my head and are NOT leaving lmao

[bloodied-blossom]

You'd do anything for that antichrist, wouldn't cha?

1.5k Words; Ronin x Reader (1/2)

Killer Chat! Fanfic

Ronin is driving you insane, if he wanted proof so badly? You'd give it to him. The devil wants your corruption. And thats just what you give him.

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'Heh'

‘Will you Carve an Aorta out for me? Cut it Filthy and Breathing’

`Do It like the Romantics do`

`i haven’t Forgotten your Need to Prove yourself to me`

`<user> [16:51]`

`I don’t think I need to prove myself to you.`

`< goreboy > [16:51]`

`who’s the one Deciding your fate?`

`i Thought so`

`have fun with your Murder`

`don’t forget to Send Pics`

`in the meantime`

`i’ll be marking the Devil’s name Uptown`

Ronin . God why won’t he get off your back. Oh, right, it’s because he knows. You know he knows. But there isn’t much you could do about it right now. Your thoughts are swirling with ideas.. Should you prove yourself? Is it worth the blood on your hands just to get him to leave you be? He’s corrupting you, and he’s pretty damn good at it. Reading his words again gives you a grotesque idea. ‘Carve an Aorta out for me?’ The thoughts only spiral as you try to push them out. You try to convince yourself that a human life is not worth your sick romantic fantasies.. But you can’t deny the truth any longer. You need this server's trust. You need proof.

If you want the devil’s heart? You’ll have to play the devil’s game. And by playing his game? You’re falling right into his hands.

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You had scoped out possible victims. There was a list of shitty people you knew the world would be better off without. This really was a terrible idea. You had on shoes that were three sizes too big, a large coat, a mask, long gloves and a couple of weapons to get the job done. Ronin was driving you mad and yet there was so little you could do about it.

You came into this server for inspiration, and here you are on the brink of murdering someone. It was too late to stop now anyways. You had a victim, you had time, and you had your equipment. You set off in the dead of night, knowing most if not all people, including your victim, would be asleep.

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Fuck you’ve done it- You killed the guy. He lay there motionless, the crowbar you used lying beside him. You knew that it was over with and that you should get your photos and leave. But once again, Ronin’s words rung out through your head. ‘will you Carve an Aorta out for me?’ God why had that one sentence stuck? He was going to be the death of you.

You knew you had to do it. Maybe now he’d shut up, maybe now he’d take more of a liking to you. Maybe now he’ll see what he’s done to you, how bad his corruption has affected you. It’s ridiculous really, he’ll only enjoy seeing you break.

You left a mark on the victim's body. Your.. brand. If you will. A missing heart and a mark. How creative. You held the heart in your hand and pulled your mask down. This needed to be deleted as soon as it was sent to the server, you knew that, but that was a problem for later. You snapped a photo of you holding the heart, a twisted smile on your face.

The devil lives to corrupt and shows mercy to none who play with his fire.

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You couldn’t send it. It made you sick looking at it when you got home.. Plus it would be too early. This wasn’t some fun game anymore, some stupid role you could play to get your inspiration. You were now a certified murderer.. And despite how disgusted the dead bodies made you feel? There was a thrilling rush to it. God your morality was being tainted slowly but surely. The only way to recover the sanity you lost is to send the photos and move on. Pretend it never happened…

But you made it this far. Why stop now?

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`< goreboy > [18:28]`

`oh, why not make it reality?`

`why don’t you Kill Someone for me @\user`

`i’m still Waiting`

`here i’ll even Let you Choose`

`that’s my Round Two`

`i Dare you`

You stared at your screen at a loss for words. You already have. You’ve done what he’s acting so desperate for.. But could you even tell them? It’s frustrating. He’s driving you even madder as time goes on. You stand from your desk, you know how to get the frustration out. Ever since that night, you have been more and more into finding ruthless people you could make victims. More and more proof to pile on. You saw your murder case on the news the morning after that night. People weren’t scared of you.. You were growing this want. The want to be feared.

You stare at the crowbar you used that night, the outfit being neatly folded right beside it. You could do it again. Give into the devil’s demands. Rack up all the proof you need, with all your reasons attached. That would be one hell of a fucking blow..

You’d prove yourself to the devil , and the devil will accept it graciously.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You did it again. You idiot. You’re falling for the bait, all the corruption. It doesn’t matter, what you’ve done is over with. You can’t go back. You stared at yet another lifeless body. Something inside of you told you this should stop, but something else felt good about this all. It was so gratifying knowing you were becoming just what he wanted you to be. You marked the body and tore out the heart, taking yet another photo from another angle to ensure the receiver knows it’s a new, fresh kill.

With your blood soaked gloves, you wrote your killer name on the wall. You wanted your chosen name to strike hearts into people. You wanted there to be news articles of you.. But that meant more blood. And you were more than happy to oblige.

Dancing with the devil is no sane person's hobby, but to you? It was your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

`< goreboy > [15:38]`

`hey ‘user’`

`how about i show you the Art of Murdering with a crowbar`

`i’ll Do it`

`as long as you Be my Victim`

Fine. This little game has gone on long enough. One more kill to prove yourself. One more victim to photograph and send to the devil on your shoulder. One more life to take before you can retire from hurting people. This is the ending you want, though you know won’t happen. You’ve grown addicted. You’ve stalked your friends to see how they do it, you take in advice from multiple sources. You’ve landed yourself so much information from this server it tempts you.

You want to rid the world of disgusting, horrible people. But you also want to be the devil’s little helper. You’ve done more than your fair share of roleplaying and it’s about time that role became a true reality. News outlets are becoming more antsy, you hear idle chatter of this new serial killer, law enforcements seem to be picking up some slack to keep people calm.. You’re doing well.

You already planned a list of people you were to kill if it came down to being something you wanted to continue doing. You know exactly where you’re headed tonight. You got ready as quickly as possible, your heart was racing. This became exciting to you. All of this was exciting to you. You couldn’t wait for Ronin’s reaction. It was going to be priceless.

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It was done. You were smiling like a maniac. You felt.. A sick sense of joy out of this. You took multiple photos this time, one with the heart, one close to the lifeless body, one smearing blood on the wall. You were… treating it like a photoshoot. It was so.. Concerningly fun. You couldn’t wait any longer, you couldn’t wait till you got home. You wrote your serial killer name in blood and stood next to it, snapping one last photo before saving both the previous photos and the newer ones to your hidden album.

You were excited, making sure you left nothing behind and fleeing from the house. It took a bit to get home undetected, but you managed. Your mind was blank, nothing but the last hour replaying in your mind as you washed up your items, clothes and yourself. You hooked your phone up to your laptop and opened up the server. Your heart was racing as you selected each photo.. Leaving out all the ones with the hearts in frame. You hovered over the send button.. After you did this? There was no going back. You stared at the sidebar with everyone’s accounts.. And saw Ronin’s . That was the only motivation you needed to click send.

You switched channels, watching as the little exclamation point showed up, signaling you had a notification from the channel. That could be checked later. You opened you and Ronin’s private messages, sending him only the photos with the carved out hearts. You didn’t wait for a response to the photos before you began typing.

`<user> [01:33]`

`I did as you asked, I carved these all out.`

`Did I make the devil proud?`

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[raven-dor]

you were here

in which peter pevensie is injured, and you refuse to leave his side

PAIRING: peter pevensie x fem!reader, PLATONIC!pevensie siblings x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SET DURING THE GOLDEN AGE, secret (also forbidden ig) relationship, angsty angst, crying, hurt/comfort, kissing, allusion to nsfw (but don't worry no actual nsfw)

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

🎶 : runaway - aurora

AN: 🩵♥️💛💗 - i love writing for peter... he's just perfect!! happy reading!!

“He’s back!” 

You sat up in your bed, smiling at the girl who’d just barged into your room, pulling you from your rest. “Who is back?”

“The High King.” 

You tried your best to look entirely unbothered by the news. “Is that all?” 

“I believe it is quite serious.” 

“And what led you to believe that?” 

“He was brought in through the kitchens. From the looks of it, he was gravely injured in battle, barely breathing.” 

“Battle?” Your heart dropped. The trip was supposed to be a patrol of their borders; he should never have seen battle. You whipped the covers off your body, haphazardly donning your robe and slippers. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The young girl sat down on your bed, watching curiously as you brushed your fingers through your hair. “Where exactly are you going?”

“I-” You couldn’t tell her, even though you so wished you could. “I will return, I swear. In the meantime, get some sleep.” 

“I will?” 

You raced out the door, slipping into the servants' passageways, the dark corridors as familiar to you as the back of your hand. It was barren at this time of night, most of the castle’s maids and footmen taking this time to rest. The glow of the hospital wing shone through the crack in the wall, and you pushed your cheek against it, watching as they worked. 

“Will he be alright, Maester?” Queen Lucy’s voice wavered. 

“He will recover, Your Majesty. Of that, I have no concern. It is the matter of when that we must determine.” 

“When?” Queen Susan was as gentle as always. “How long do you suppose he will take?” 

“Anywhere between three days and a fortnight, My Queen.” 

“A fortnight?” Queen Lucy shouted. 

“Lu, perhaps we should return to bed and let the Maesters continue their work,” Susan whispered. “It does no good to worry yourself into a stupor.” 

“Fine,” Lucy muttered. “Thank you, Maester.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” 

The maesters left soon after, the hospital wing eerily quiet, save for a stray kitten’s purrs. You pushed open the secret door, approaching the High King’s bed hesitantly. “Peter.” You hadn’t expected him to respond, but still, it was difficult to come to terms with it. His being unconscious. You found the nearest chair, placing it beside his bed. “I’m sorry.” 

He looked so peaceful. It wasn’t fair, you told yourself. The only time Peter was truly at peace was when he was injured, gone to the world in all the ways that mattered. You reached out, holding his hand in yours, eyes watering at how cold his skin felt. “Sleep, my love. I will not leave you.” A tear slid down your cheek, tickling your skin as it fell. “I swear.” 

Queen Susan’s hair was smooth, with hardly any knots. You always loved doing her hair; it was so simple, so long. The possibilities for styling were endless. Normally, this would be the best part of your day, playing with the Queen’s hair as if she were a doll. 

Now, you couldn’t bring yourself to be excited, your mind clouded with thoughts of Peter.

Of her brother.

“Are you quite alright?” The queen tilted her head. “You seem preoccupied.” 

You shook your head as if that would bring you back to reality. “I am sorry, my lady. I will focus-” 

“Your focus is not what I am concerned about.” The gentle woman turned in her chair, facing her lady’s maid. “Has something happened?” 

“Of course not, my lady.” 

“You must not lie to me.” She frowned. “You seem sadder than normal.” 

“I am simply tired, my lady. I assure you.” You continued to brush carefully through her dark tresses. “Now, what would you like done with your hair?” 

Susan turned back around, watching you closely. “You may have just weasled out of my interrogation, but that does not mean we are done with conversation.” She squinted her eyes. “I will find out.” 

“Of course, my lady.” 

She’d left soon after, only wanted a simple braid for today. She’d left three gowns she wanted hemmed, and you decided it would be best to finish the work beside Peter, just in case he woke up. 

You’d been one corner away from the hospital wing when King Edmund caught you. “My lady.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut before turning around, curtsying quickly. “You must not call me that, Your Majesty.” He was chivalrous and kind to a fault, too much like his brother.  

“I shall call you what I like.” He laughed. “May I accompany you?” 

“Accompany me?” 

“To wherever it is you are going.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you quite alright?” 

“Fine, my lord.” You smiled politely. “It is truly not necessary.” 

“Are you hiding something?” 

Your eyes all but fell out of their sockets. “I beg your pardon?” 

“You are being quite elusive, my lady.” He was having his fun, teasing you. If you were allowed to glare at the king, you would. “Is there a beau?” 

“If there is nothing else Your Majesty needs, I will be leaving.” 

Edmund nodded, laughing to himself. “My lady.” 

You all but ran to the hospital wing, slamming the door behind you. “Your brother is a menace.” Peter did not respond, not that you’d expected him to. You plopped down in the chair that still sat diligently beside him, starting your work. “He is just as you described him to be. He is also-” You glared at the unconscious king as if he could see you. “Just as persistent as you are. He called me ‘my lady.’ I do wonder who taught him to do that.” 

Your hemming went fast as you talked to the king, laughing as if he had made some witty comment or joke at his brother’s expense. 

Lucy had been passing by the wing when she’d heard it. Your laughter trickling out of the cracked door like a gentle creek. She peeked through, smiling at the sight. It seemed that you hadn’t even felt her gaze, too immersed in your work, in Peter’s presence. 

Peter had told her, before he left, the name of the lady who had caught his heart. She was glad it was you. Shocked, but glad, nonetheless. Not only were you kind, loyal, and confident, but you were also a wonderful lady’s maid, always willing to give honest advice on any matter her or her sister asked. 

“What are you doing?” Lucy jumped, whipping around to shove her brother. “You scared me.” She whispered. Edmund raised an eyebrow. “Why are we whispering?” He looked over her shoulder, now entirely too curious as to what she’d been watching. “What’s happening?” 

“Nothing!” Lucy squeaked. Peter had also told her before he’d left that it was a secret, a secret he hadn’t wanted anyone else to know. Especially their siblings. “Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchens? I fancy a scone.” 

He squinted. “Fine. But only because I fancy a scone as well.” 

The moonlight did little to illuminate the hospital wing, the candle on his bedside table holding a warm, soft glow. You stared at him, just stared as if you could never look at him again. You took in every freckle, every scar, every mark on his skin, each holding a perfect memory. 

A reminder of your time with him.

It had been three days since his return, since he’d been placed in this bed, and you had yet to leave his side for more than an hour. He’d developed a fever, the maesters explained that it was to protect his body from infections. 

You were glad about that small piece of news. Perhaps that meant he would wake up sooner.

Good, you thought. Your eyes were tired, tired from crying, from constantly worrying over him. From watching him. 

Still, you couldn’t close your eyes, because even a second too long brought back your last moments with him, your last words to the king who loved you haunting your every move. 

Sweat built up on his brow, no doubt from the fever. His baby hairs clung to his forehead, eyes squeezing as if he was experiencing a nightmare. You shushed him, whispering sweet nothings as you grabbed a cold towel, wiping his forehead clean. “It’s alright, my love. It’s alright.” He groaned, shaking his head, your eyes welling. You couldn’t handle seeing him in distress, and this was no exception. “I’m so sorry, Peter. So irrevocably sorry.”

“Am I to believe that this is our end?” The High King yelled at your back. His voice echoed down the hall, tears streaming down your cheeks in waves. You couldn’t face him, you couldn’t do this anymore. “This is how you leave me?” 

“I do not know what you want me to say.” You whispered. “I have told you what I believe-” 

“And you are wrong.” He stalked toward you, and you could hear his determined footsteps closing in. “On this very rare instance, you are wrong.” 

“Your Majesty-” 

“Do not call me that.” He hissed. “Why must you call me that?” 

You turned around, colliding with his solid chest. “Because we are in a rather public hall, Your Majesty. That is why.” 

“I don’t like seeing you like this.” He reached out, attempting to wipe away your tears. He frowned when you stepped back, glaring at him like he’d attacked you. In a way, he had. “I don’t understand. I thought you’d be pleased.” 

“In another life, I would be ecstatic, Your Majesty.” You wiped your tears away, knowing your eyes would be red and swollen the next day. “But I am a commoner, I’m not worthy-” 

“Stop saying that.” His voice was low, quiet, but just as bone-chilling as his yell. He was upset, upset that you were denying yourself, denying him, this happiness. “I will not hear it. Do not say that again, or so help me-” 

“Well, it is true.” You scoffed. “I am not a lady.” 

“You are.” He insisted. “You are a lady, in every way that matters-” 

“Except one.” You whispered, your voice weak from the screaming match you found yourself in. “Peter, please. People will talk, and they will be upset by your choice of a wife. You know this to be true, deep down. Narnia will not be pleased, Telmarine will not be pleased, Archenland, Calormen, they will all be-” 

“I do not care. I am the High King.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So you would knowingly fling your country into danger for the sake of love?” 

“I would.” He nodded, resolute, confident in his answer. 

“That is selfish.” You hissed. “Very selfish indeed.” 

“I am quite fine with this being the rare moment in my life I behave selfishly.” He stepped closer, hands reaching out, desperate to hold you. “My love-” 

“Stop.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes for the umpteenth time that morning. “I am sorry, truly I am.” 

“No, you’re not.” He hissed, eyes practically red with hurt, with anger, with pain. “You must truly hate me to let us come to this. After all this time.” 

“You know that is not true. Not in the slightest.” You hissed back. “I have loved you with my entire being, with my entire soul. But I will not do this. I cannot.” 

“I could make you marry me.” He whispered. “I could make you, and we could be happy.” 

“You wouldn’t do that.” You smiled. “Because it wouldn’t be the same, it wouldn’t be what either of us wants. You are a good king, Peter. But you are an even better man.” 

“I need you.” A tear fell down his cheek. “Please.” 

“No.” You shook his head, hating how his cologne pulled you in, even now, in the middle of all of this. “You must-” 

“Then you are a coward.” The words hit you like a ton of bricks, like a slap still stinging your cheek. His words hit you harder than you cared to outwardly admit, your heart breaking into a million pieces.

“So be it. Narnia will be better off in the end because of it.” You whipped around, your last words all but well wishes. It was poisonous, harsh as could be. While the phrase could be heard as kind, loving, even, you both knew the truth. That would be your end, that would be your demise. “I hope for your safe return, Your Majesty.”

“Peter, wake up, and I swear I will say yes.” You meant it, you truly did. You’d wanted to say yes when he’d asked you, the frost-covered gardens empty save for the two of you, his cloak covering your shivering frame as he knelt. “I swear it.” 

He stilled, the nightmare, the fever, whatever had been startling him, passing. You wept, you laid your forehead against his hand, still held in yours, and wept. 

“You must eat.” 

You shook your head, fighting the urge to glare at the young girl. The young girl, or Jane, as you’d come to know her, had taken to you lately, always following you around and asking for your help, your advice. You had been so busy that, unfortunately, you never got her name.

Until now. 

Now, when she was trying to convince you to leave Peter’s side for food. Food that you knew you would pick at and hardly touch anyway, too overcome with anxiety to stomach anything. “I am fine, Jane. Thank you for your concern.” 

“At the very least, you must rest.” 

“I have-” 

“In a bed.” 

You could feel your eyes lulling shut simply from this conversation, the hours of staying by his side hitting you. “I could use an hour or so-” 

“Yes. Yes, you could.” Jane grinned, grabbing your hand and pulling you up from the seat. “He will be here when you return, I promise you.” 

“You may let go of me.” You smirked at the young girl. “I know the way.” 

“Sorry.” She frowned. “I was only trying to-” 

“Do not apologize, Jane.” You placed a comforting hand on her arm, smiling. “You are a kind girl, you know. It will serve you well.” 

“Thank you, my lady.” 

“Jane…” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you walked toward your chambers. “Do not call me that.”

The waft that the kitchen had produced pulled you in, almost as if a spell had been cast, and your stomach was now in charge of all decisions. The staff were clambering about, shouting out orders and ideas for the royal’s dinner. You carefully slipped in, nabbing yourself a small plate of bread, cheese, and meat. It wasn’t much, but it was something, something to quell your hunger. 

You sat by the window, watching the tradesmen below walk around, their voices carrying through the glass, even over the noise of the kitchen. The bread was warm, but not steaming. That perfect warmth that transported you back to simpler times, to when your mother had made bread daily, sneaking you slices before selling the rest at market.

“Your Majesty.” 

Your eyes widened, whipping around so that you could show your respect to whichever of the Pevensie siblings had graced the kitchens with their presence. “Please, there’s no need.” 

Ah, you smiled to yourself. It was Lucy. She was the kindest, by far. Not that her siblings were mean, quite the contrary, but Lucy held a certain light, a certain warmth for every one of her subjects. “Would you all terribly mind if I had the room for a moment?” 

Ripples of ‘Of course not, Your Majesty’ echoed through the room, the servants leaving the space as quickly as they could. You followed after, clutching the plate of food close to you. 

The door had been within reach when her voice rang through the room once more. “Not you.” 

Your heart dropped. “Have I done something wrong, my lady?” 

“I know.”

“Know what, my lady?” You prayed that she would expose what she knew before you accidentally gave away your most well-kept secret. 

“Do not insult my intelligence by feigning ignorance.” She smirked. “I know that you love my brother.”

“I-” 

“I saw you. Just the other day.” She took a step forward, watching you curiously. “Caring for him in the hospital wing.” 

“My lady, I am so sorry-” 

“I wanted to thank you.” She smiled. “It is rather kind of you, not that I was shocked by it.” You smiled back, finding it difficult to form words. “He told me of you.” 

“He-” Your heart skipped. “He did?”

“He talked of your wit, your courage, of your care for our people.” She laughed. “He said you were beautiful and impossibly stubborn.” You didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “It was the most beautiful thing, seeing my brother fall in love before my very eyes. I still remember the first time he brought you up at breakfast.”

“I have something to say.” Peter cleared his throat, face grave. 

Edmund still joked, muttering under his breath. “Don’t you always have something to say?” That had earned a hard jab in the side from Lucy. 

“Go ahead, Peter.” Susan smiled. “We’re listening.” 

“I have-” He looked nervous, something that he never showed, not even to his siblings. Lucy started to become nervous herself at the sight. “I have fallen in love.” 

“Well, that’s wonderful news!” Lucy grinned. “Just wonderful, Peter!” 

“Yes.” Susan nodded. “May I ask who it is?” 

“She asks me not to tell anyone.” He sighed. “She says that she is concerned about what the people will think.” 

Edmund scoffed. “And why would that deter her?” 

“Because she is a maid.” Peter’s voice was firm. “She believes the people will hate her, or something of that nature.” 

Edmund laughed. “That’s nonsense.” 

“That is precisely what I have told her,” Peter muttered under his breath. “Many, many times…” 

“What is she like?” Lucy inquired. “If we may know that much-” 

“We were overjoyed to hear of his courtship. I hope you know that.” She looked as if she was holding herself back from saying more. “You are a good lady’s maid and a close confidant. There is no other I would wish for my brother to love.” 

“I do not know what to say, my lady.” 

“You do not need to say anything.” Lucy placed a comforting hand over yours, squeezing gently. “I will take my leave.” 

You nodded, curtsying as she left the room. And then your legs gave way, your body crumbling to the ground like a pile of leaves in the fall. Guilt wracked through you, consuming your very being until it was all you could feel. 

Your argument had been pointless, your last moments with Peter a waste. If you had just-you couldn’t even entertain the notion, as sob after sob wrung through you. Your last words, said in spite, could be the last words that Peter ever heard leave your lips. 

It seemed that sobbing your eyes out for hours brought you the most peaceful sleep you’d ever known. Well, at least the most peaceful sleep since Peter had been admitted to the hospital wing. You assumed that it was your last encounter with Queen Lucy and the culmination of last week’s events that led to this. 

Your eyes had fluttered open moments before the sun had burst through your window, a rare occasion indeed. Your room was less than tidy, no doubt from your lack of attention and Jane’s occasional occupation of your bed. Quickly fixing the mess that had accumulated in your absence, you practically skipped down to the kitchen to make yourself breakfast. 

The cooks were nowhere to be seen, as it was much too early to begin breakfast. It wasn’t much, just two eggs, toast, and some berries, but it was perfect. Just what you needed. 

The hospital wing glowed golden in the early morning light. You smiled to yourself. Peter was radiant in the light. Sitting beside him, you laughed, playfully scolding him. “It is not fair, your beauty.” 

You could have sworn his hand twitched, that it almost looked to be reaching out toward you. “Peter?” Your heart skipped at the thought, the thought of him finally waking. It also filled with dread, your mind drifting back to your last conversation. You scanned his body, his face, anything that could indicate he was waking, but to no avail. Peter remained as still as could be, and you chalked up your hallucination to the early morning. 

A book had been left on his bedside table, most likely from one of his sisters. You reached out, taking in the cover. ‘The Tales of Peter Rabbit.’ You were sure he quite enjoyed the story, simply because of the character’s name. The first couple of pages were sweet, adorable pictures etched on their corners. You ate your food in between, relishing in the tranquility the morning brought.

“My love?” 

You could not blame the early morning any longer. 

Peter Rabbit fell from your hand, revealing the very much awake man in front of you. His voice was practically a croak, eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased as he tried to sit up in his bed. His slight groan, the indication that he was in pain, pulled you from your state of shock, shoving him back down. 

You stood up, yelling out for help from anyone. “Someone call for the Maester!” It was just your luck that a servant was passing by the wing, poking his head in through the door. 

“The Maesters-” His eyes widened, disbelief clouding his features as the High King stared back at him. “They-” 

“Send for King Edmund, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy.” 

“I-I will.” The servant nodded. “Right away!” 

Peter always loved this side of you - the unwavering confidence, the stern nature that you held when you gave orders. Just as a High Queen should be, he thought. It was simply fate that made it so you possessed all those attributes he held most dear. He looked over, your hand a mere inch from his, empty. He reached out, squeezing it gently. “Sit.” 

“Your Majesty-” He raised a brow, and you sighed, complying with his request. “Are you quite-” 

He was like a lion to its prey, leaping over and pulling your lips to his. You gasped, falling into his touch, grabbing his nightshirt as if it would bring him closer. He had practically growled at the action, hand clutching your cheek, thumb gently rubbing over the skin. “I had to know this was real. That this wasn't a dream.” 

Your lips still brushed against his, chest heaving from the sudden nature of it all. “I’m here.” 

He smiled, eyes taking you in. “You look worn to the bone, my love.” 

You glared, muttering under your breath. “How kind of you to say.” 

“How long have you been here?” He whispered, voice as soft as always. “How long have you been by my side?” 

“Since they brought you here.” You were not ashamed, nor should you be. “I-” 

His touch felt like fire, his hands finding their way to yours. “Oh my darling. My darling girl.” You almost glared again at the king; he knew what that name did to you. “My love, I am fine, you-” 

“But you weren't fine. Were you?” Your voice wavered. “I felt guilty, horribly guilty about how I left us, and I had to do something. To make it up to you, to show that I care. That I truly love you, that I have always and will always-” 

Unlike his earlier attack, this kiss was sweet, gentle, and comforting. You craved his touch, craved to touch him, clutching his wrists that still held you. “You-” He kissed you between each word, a giddy sort of laughter bubbling out of you. “Must-” 

“Peter-” 

“Not-” 

“Peter!” You squealed, relishing under his relentless affection. 

“Dwell on this.” He finished, resting his forehead against yours. “Promise me.” 

“I-” 

“You’re awake!” Your eyes widened, ripping yourself away from Peter. Your head hung low, staring at the ground, waiting to be addressed as was protocol. Edmund laughed, addressing you. “Was he a terrible nuisance?” 

He always had a way of making you laugh. You raised your head slightly, shaking it. “Considering he was asleep for most of the time, Your Majesty, he was an absolute delight.” 

Peter gasped, clutching his chest. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing.” 

You shrugged, eyes falling back to the floor. Lucy and Susan fawned over him, checking his forehead, his skin, asking him question after question. Susan began to chastise him for taking part in the battle in the first place, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to laugh or join in. 

They had most definitely seen you. Your heart was pounding at the thought. They had seen you kissing their ill brother. What would they think of you? Would they- Peter’s hand reached out, grasping yours tightly in his. “I have an announcement.” You raised your head, eyes curious as they found Peter’s. “If you would have me-” 

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, eyes welling. “Of course, I would.” 

He grinned, kissing the back of your hand gently. “We are to be wed.” 

The room erupted into cheers, all of them congratulating you simultaneously. Lucy was the first to hug you, a knowing smile etched on her lips. “You will make a wonderful queen.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” 

She laughed. “We are to be sisters, you and I. It would be terribly odd for you to call me Your Majesty.” 

You nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.” 

The Great Hall was abundant in what Susan would call controlled chaos. Everywhere your eyes drifted, something new was happening. A child was stealing sweets, a faun was dancing with a nymph. It was perfect, utterly perfect. A wonderful start to your reign as High Queen. As Peter's wife.

"You look radiant in that gown, have I told you?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yes, many times.” 

“You sound displeased,” Peter smirked. “I would not like my bride to be displeased on our wedding day.” 

“I am not displeased.” You laughed again, the absurdity that was his behavior too much. “You make me laugh, Peter, it is a most noble trait.” 

“You are practically glowing.” He whispered. “If I could, I would-” 

“Peter.” You gasped, slapping a playful hand over his mouth. “Control yourself. We are at our reception.” 

“So?” 

“So-” You sighed. “Everyone from all corners of Narnia is watching us. You cannot just-” 

“I can.” He grinned. “And I intend to praise you constantly for the rest of our lives.” 

Your cheeks felt hot under his gaze. “May I suggest an alternative?” 

“By all means.” 

“Well..." You felt your stomach flip, the reality of it all hitting you. "We have a bedroom-” 

“Aslan, I love you.” He stood up, extending his hand for you to take. “Have I told you lately?” 

“You have.” You took his hand gratefully, kissing his cheek. “But I would not mind hearing it again.” 

Peter raced out of the hall, the pair of you giggling like lovestruck fools. Susan tilted her head, watching as you left the room. “Have they just abandoned their own reception?” 

Edmund nodded, grabbing another slice of cake. “It would seem so.” 

“But I-I spent so long-” 

Lucy placed a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Leave them be, Su.” 

The servants whispered as you raced past them, not that either of you noticed. You were too busy running down the halls, momentarily stopping to kiss each other passionately. It had taken far too long to arrive at your chambers, but when you finally had, Peter slammed them open, hands grabbing at your hips.

Your head flew back, laughter cascading from your lips. “You are a man possessed.” 

“Can you blame me?” The doors shut behind him, his eyes dark as he watched you remove your wedding dress. Or at least, what you could without help. “You are-” 

“Radiant. Glowing. Yes.” You grinned, gesturing for him to follow after you. “So you've told me.” 

“You will be the death of me.” He muttered under his breath, watching with utter fascination as you jumped onto your bed, waiting for him to follow suit. “My love.” 

Your heart beat so hard against your chest, you thought it would burst. “My king.” 

He practically growled, eyes dark. “My queen.” He hung over you, and you couldn’t help but admire him. His arms, his eyes, his lips that were just begging to be kissed. “I believe I was here for something-” 

“No more games.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down. “Ravish me, Pevensie.”

"As you wish, my lady."

taglist: @beebeechaos @lillisummers @maryjaneeeee

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO JOIN!

[bigproblemsfunnylife]

Hello, I have a request for the main 6 Arcana characters with a fox selkie reader that got their fur coat stolen.

( Selkies are mythical creatures that are able to shape-shift with the help of their fur coat and are traditionally pictured as seals but can be different animals. I'm sorry if it's a lot)

Interesting! I made some research (?) I hope it’s what you wanted! Here you have:

M6 x GN! MC who is a fox Selkie and his fur coat is stolen

Title: Headcanons

Characters: Asra Alzanar, Julian Devorak, Nadia Satrinava, Muriel, Portia Devorak and Lucio.

ASRA:

—Asra notices something odd the first time you watched the Tarot card of the Magician, how your eyes go distant as if homesick seeing the fox in them.

—He doesn’t push, but he watches carefully. Magic recognizes magic, and something in you sings a different frequency than the world around you.

—When you finally tell him about being a fox selkie, his face softens immediately. “Of course you are,” he says, like he’s known all along.

—The day of the, you explain it with trembling hands: maybe someone lured you ashore with warmth and affection… maybe you trusted the wrong hands… maybe you simply turned around, and it was gone.

“I searched for days,” you whisper. “I howled. I dug through the cliffs. I bled into the tide. It was gone.”

—His expression crumples just slightly. “Who would do that to you?” he murmurs.

—He’s heartbroken and furious on your behalf. He doesn’t pity you, he mourns with you. There’s a difference.

—For weeks afterward, he casts magic to trace echoes of your true form. Tries to read the memory of your body. Sometimes he sobs mid-ritual. If you aren’t right, neither is he. He barely sleeps.

—Gently reassures you that you’re not less without your coat.

—Will absolutely travel with you to search for your coat, no matter how long it takes.

—If you cry? He strokes your back and says, “I’ll help you find your skin again. And in the meantime, I’ll make sure no one else tries to take anything from you.”

—When you regain your fur coat again, it’s difficult to say which one of you two is more overjoyed. Of course, Asra will personally get in charge with the oh dumb thief who thought he could get away with it.

—Loves seeing glimpses of your fox-self: the way your ears twitch at sounds, how you curl into warmth, your hyper-attuned senses.

—After all, you both have the malice of foxes.

JULIAN:

—Learns you’re a selkie during an emotionally intense moment, maybe an argument where you finally shout the truth, or in a rare moment of quiet where you cuddle in his chest.

—“I’m not fully human,” you say at the beginning.

—Julian is speechless for once (maybe twice) in his life. His eyes search your face, in shock.

—He doesn’t ask more that day. But the next morning, with shaking hands, he asks more explanations. About everything.

—He will calm down after this.

—Starts obsessively reading every folktale and magical document about selkies. He’s half in love with the mythology and with you.

—Listens intently to every word of selkie lore you share. He adores your sea-born culture, even the painful parts.

—He thinks your fox form is cute, but he's mostly trying to stop Malak from fighting you.

—When you tell Julian about the disappearance of your fur coat, his breath catches. “That’s… horrible,” he finally says.

—Becomes completely obsessed with the mystery. Wants details. Who took it? Where was it last? Was it cursed? Was it love? Deceit?

—He gets furious. Vows to find it, even if it means traveling to the edge of the world.

—Julian will try to ask to the “weirds” contacts at The Rowdy Raven for informations or ideas of the identity of the thief.

—He sleeps curled around you for days afterward, murmuring stories and jokes to distract you, but you can see the way his smile strains at the edges.

—When you finally recover your coat, he’s happy for you, and will celebrate this with some high quality wine.

NADIA:

—Suspects something long before you tell her. One day, in the privacy of her favorite tower room, you let the truth slip from your lips.

—Nadia listens without interrupting, her hand stilling on the curve of her tea cup.

—Her expression is unreadable at first, but then she steps closer and tells you that it’s surprising but you are even more fascinating now and she is proud of your honesty with her.

—She will be very curious of your Selkie form, and asks a lot of questions if you let her.

— When she discovers that your fur coat is stolen, she is of course angry. “That is a cruel theft,” she says, voice cool and sharp. “To strip a creature of its nature is to commit a deep injustice.”

—Vows to help you find your fur coat and see that whoever took it is punished appropriately.

—Becomes intensely protective. Quietly declares that anyone who tries to bind you again will answer to her, personally.

—Sends out palace researchers and even spymasters to track any suspicious artifact trafficking or enchanted furs.

—When the the fur coat is found, she commissions a fox statue for your private quarters carved from ivory and onyx, eyes glowing with moonstone. She places it where you can see it first thing each morning.

MURIEL:

—He doesn’t need to be told. Muriel feels it in you, the unease in your skin, the way you sleep curled, the ache in your silences.

—One day, as you sit beside the fire, you tell him quietly, “I’m not from here.“

—Muriel nods slowly, eyes fixed on the flames. “That makes sense,” he just say.

—Doesn’t ask for details. Doesn’t need to.

—You kept your coat in a hidden place, far in the forest near a spring, safe and secret. Until one morning you go to check and only damp moss remains.

—When you return to the hut, Muriel immediately notices. He doesn’t ask who they are. He doesn’t ask how. He just moves.

—Instinctively wraps you in the cloak from his shoulders. Pulls you into his chest. Doesn’t say “It’ll be okay” because he knows how deep the loss runs.

—Later, quietly, he goes into the forest alone and searches the spring. No clues or scent.

—For days, he just stays near. Building the fire higher, making food, speaking only when he sees you begin to drift into despair.

—Builds you soft places to curl up: layers of blankets, furs, moss.

—Begins crafting things for your fox form before he’s even seen it. A fox-charm collar. A hideaway with bone carvings. A cedar comb for fur.

—When you have back your fur coat, if you let him see your fox form, he is quietly moved. He kneels. Reaches out slowly. Says only, “You’re beautiful. You’re you.”

PORTIA:

—You tell her on impulse one night, maybe during a storm in a chill night eating snacks.

“I’m a selkie. A fox.”

“WHAT–?!”

—Admires your tails, ears, and sleek fur if you show her your true form. “LOOK AT YOU. YOU’RE PERFECT. I WANNA PET YOU. CAN I PET YOU??”

—Tries to coax your fox instincts into play. Buys you little toys, makes dens out of couch cushions, says “Do you want a shiny rock? I brought a shiny rock just in case.”

—When you tell her about the stealing, Portia’s face contorts from confusion to pure horror in two seconds flat.

—“EXCUSE ME?? SOMEONE STOLE YOUR MAGICAL FUR COAT?! THAT’S— THAT’S KIDNAPPING! THAT’S A CRIME! WHO DO I HAVE TO PUNCH?”

—Immediately vows revenge. Makes a “Coat Retrieval Plan” complete with color-coded steps, a map, and snack breaks.

—Becomes feral-level protective.

—If you ever feel like you don’t belong, she’ll grab your face and say: “You do. Right here. With me. Coat or no coat, fox or human or ghost-who-sings.”

—When you get your coat back, she cries happy tears. Then says, “Okay. We’re going on a moonlit sprint. You, me, full tilt. Let’s GO.”

LUCIO:

—With Lucio, you didn’t planned to tell him in first place.

—But when your fur coat is stolen, and you are devastated, you needed your partner’s support.

—You tell him with gritted teeth and a tired heart: “I’m a selkie. A fox. My coat was stolen. I was forced to stay here.”

—At first, he’s confused, then shocked, then furious.

—“Wait, someone took your literal soul-coat and made you stay here?! That’s— THAT’S LIKE CURSING A PHOENIX! WHO WOULD DO THAT?!”

—His first reaction is selfish panic. “Does that mean you don’t want to be here? You don’t want to be with me?”

—But when he sees your face, your pain, his ego drops. For once. He sits beside you and whispers, “I’m sorry. That’s… awful. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even me.”

—Organizes a ridiculously over-the-top search. Puts out reward posters, hires cursed treasure hunters, calls in favors from pirates. (You have to tell him to tone it down.)

—Wraps you in velvet capes and says things like “Until your true coat is found, I hereby name you Fox of the Court.”

—Starts collecting fur-like materials to try to recreate the feeling of your old skin. Most are terrible. You keep the softest one anyway.

—When you do find your coat, he throws a party. Then panics halfway through. “You’re not… gonna leave me, are you?”

—If you come back to him in fox form, curl against his legs, he holds his breath and says: “You could have gone. But you came back. You chose me.” He is mesmerized.

—Melchior and Mercedes will be happy to have a new partner for games.

[hetacon]

Linktober 2024 Day 31: Free for All

Nothing like a few bandages and a whole lot of kisses to help Ravio’s Mr. Hero recover after a scuffle with some monsters!

It’s arrived, the final day (dun dun). We’ve officially made it y’all, the end of Linktober for this year and I thought what better way to celebrate it than bringing things full circle with some more Ravioli art!! I’m honestly really surprised at how much I’ve been able to get done this month, and that I’ve finished on time for all of these pieces (for my time zone at least), because I wasn’t even sure if I was going to do all of the prompts. Some of them were a bit difficult to think of ideas for but I’m proud of everything that I’ve made! Naturally some pieces turned out better than others and I did have to simplify or downscale some of my initial ideas for certain prompts, but the fact that I actually managed to make 31 unique pieces is so impressive to me and I’m amazed with myself for persevering!

Also speaking of recovering, I’m going to be taking at least a few days break from drawing because my hand has started hurting a bit, but hopefully I can keep working on some more stuff soon, there are a lot of things I want to make! In the meantime, I might actually try to work on some of the fic ideas that I have (because yes, I’m also a fanfic writer :D) and see if I can get any of those posted

It was a bit intimidating to join a new fandom on here, especially one as popular as the Zelda series, so I just wanted to thank all of you that have been liking, reblogging, and commenting on the art I’ve been putting out as well as those of you who’ve started following me, and just overall being so kind and supportive. It means the world to me and I hope you’ll stick around for more LOZ and LU stuff! :))

(Also sidenote about the actual drawing itself, I love how Legend's just a big fluffball when his hair gets messy, it's so cute!)

[musaslullaby]

18

Kimi Antonelli x fem reader

Summary: Kimi's girlfriend is planning a surprise for him.

Warning: only fluff, au instagram

Face: random people on Pinterest, Kimi Antonelli and his friends.

a/n: Here's my way of wishing Kimi a happy birthday, trying once again to use this style of writing.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪

Kimi.antonelli

Description: Summer vacation is almost over, and we'll be back on track soon, but in the meantime, let's have some more fun.

liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc and other 132143334

Yn_official: I miss you.

Kimiantonelli: I miss you too❤️

KimiYnbaby_: Wait, didn’t Yn go with him?

f1lover: No, she had family commitments.

KimiYnbaby_: okok

Olliebearman: Don’t have too much fun without us.

Yn_official: I’m keeping an eye on you, Antonelli.

Yn_loveu: All Formula One and Two fans in America will chase Kimi on behalf of Yn.

Yn_official

Stories blocked for Kimi.antonelli

Kimi.antonelli

Description: Family reunited❤️

liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc,Yn_official and other 132143334

Yn_official: I love you and missed you so much, but this doesn’t make up for the sleep I lost picking you up at the airport.

arthur_leclerc: What a terrible boyfriend.

Yn_official: You can say that again.

Kimi.antonelli: Bullying even on my birthday.

Kimimylife: Guys, do you think he knows?

Yn_kimi: No, he doesn’t.

AntoKimi: I’m just waiting for someone to ruin everything😂

Kimi.antonelli: What are you all plotting?

Olliebearman: You’ll understand.

Yn_official: Shut that damn mouth, Ollie.

Olliebearman: At your command🫡

Kimi.antonelli: You guys scare me.

Kimi.antonelli

liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc,Paularon and other 132143334

Description: Sports and relax with the boys.

Kimi_Yn: Guys, the plan has begun.

Olliebearma: Dude, you suck at tennis.

Paularon: I beat him three times.

Kimi.antonelli: Those are just details.

Yn_official

Blocked for Kimi.antonelli

liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc and other 132143334

Description: Preparations have begun 🤫🤫

Yourfriend_: Stop taking photos and come help us.

Yn_official: Sorry.

Olliebearman: We’ll keep him here for a bit longer, but he’s starting to miss you.

YnandKimifan: How sweet, Kimi wants to spend his birthday with Yn.

Ynlover: Don’t make him wait too long, Yn.

User90: Guys, I’m waiting for the video of Kimi’s reaction.

Lovef1: Oh my God, I hope they do it.

Yn_official: Start bringing home the chicken.

Paularon: We’re on our way.

Olliebearman: As you wish, future Mrs. Antonelli.

Kimimylife: Oh my God, I can’t wait!

Loverkimyn: We’re more excited than they are.

Kimi.antonelli

liked by olliebearman, arthur_leclerc,Yn_official and other 132143334

Description: Best birthday ever, thank you for this surprise party. I really don’t know how to thank you.

I had so much fun, and now I feel officially ready to start the season again.

A special thanks to the love of my life (I know this was your idea) I love you so much.

Yn_official: Trust me, after this party, you’ll need at least a month to recover.

Yourfried_: Ollie drank so many shots that he passed out on the couch.

Olliebearman: Hey, you don’t have permission to post that photo, and when the hell did you take it?

LoverKimi: But Yn ignoring the last part of the post😂😂😂

Arthur_leclerc: Oh yes, that’s true love.

Olliebearman: Yn, please respond to Kimi’s “I love you” before he starts crying.

Yn_official: Of course, I love my favorite drama queen.

Kimi.antonelli: 1. I wasn't crying 2. I'm not a drama queen 3. I love u too.

Ynqueen: Yn looks amazing in the third photo.

Kimilover: Can we talk about Kimi and Yn in the fourth photo?

Ynkimi: I wish we had a video of Yn and Kimi’s amazing voices.

Arthur_leclerc: By the way, I’m mad because you put Charles on the cake and not me.

Kimi.antonelli: Please, that cake is beyond amazing.

user09: Whoever chose it deserves a prize

Yn_official: Here I am to claim my prize.

Charles_leclerc: Inferiority complex, Arthur?

Arthur_leclerc: You’re not important enough to give me an inferiority complex.

Yn_official: Arthur has officially roasted his brother.

[rebelliousstories]

Girl’s Night

Relationship: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Drinking and Alcohol

Word Count: 838

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When Emily invites another girl to the BAU’s girl’s night, no one is expecting this girl.

Consider Donating: Here

“They’re gonna love you. Stop fussing.”

“Em, these are your friends and the ones you work with. I have a reason to be nervous.” This had been the argument for the last thirty minutes from their shared apartment to this new one.

Emily Prentiss had not only spent the last thirty minutes arguing with her girlfriend, but the better part of the day trying to convince her to come along on her annual B.A.U. girl’s night with her friends. This would be the first time that anyone from work would be meeting someone special to her. It was nerve wracking enough on that qualification enough. Not to mention the fact that she was officially coming out; Emily might be a bit more nervous than her girlfriend. But one of them had to be calm.

Holding a bottle of wine in one hand, she turned to her girlfriend. “Listen, honey, I know it seems scary right now. But they’ll love you, okay?”

“Yeah.” She replied, but did not sound convinced. Sensing this, Emily went over and captured her jaw in one hand, while planting her lips onto hers.

It got her girlfriend to calm down long enough to be stable again. Releasing her, Prentiss waited till she got a nod from the woman, before knocking on the door. A bubbly blonde yanked open the door, far too energized for how late in the day it way.

“Emily! And friend, hello. Come on in ladies.” Penelope ushered them in. Looking back at her girlfriend, the dark haired woman smiled and nodded her head towards the apartment.

“Jay-Jie, Em and her friend are here.” Garcia called out into the room. Another blonde came out to find their new guests arriving with some more wine, which got her to smile even bigger.

“Hey, glad to see the party is finally here.” JJ came around to hug Prentiss tightly before setting her sights on the new woman.

“Hi, I’m Jennifer. Everyone calls me JJ. And that bundle of unicorn sparkles is Penelope Garcia. It’s so good to meet you.” Holding out her hand, the new woman provided her name to the rest of the group.

In the meantime, Emily and Penelope were pouring the new bottle of wine to go with the rest of their snack type foods. JJ led her over to the couch, letting her take it easy for her first girl’s night. She, along with her other two friends, brought food over in waves. Popcorn, candy, pretzel bites, chips and dips; you name it, they had it.

When everyone finally planted themselves on the couch, the questions began.

“So, how do you know our fair brunette bombshell?” Garcia asked, in between bites of popcorn.

“Oh, uh…” she trailed off, looking at her girlfriend. “We met at a makeup store. I was working the counter and Emily needed help finding a new lip liner. Her old one was discontinued cause they stopped making it like ten years ago.”

Her tease made the brunette near blush as she hid her face behind her glass of wine. Emily started up just as soon as she recovered, “hey, I want to remind you that I got you to change from a flip phone to a smart one. There was no way I was going to be calling on that ancient piece of tech.”

“Yeah, sure. There was nothing wrong with my flip phone. Anyways, after I helped her find a new lip liner, she passed me her number. And from that day, it was history.” The woman shrugged, taking a sip of her wine.

“I love that she is getting some more lady friends. Honestly, the B.A.U. is a testosterone nightmare sometimes.” JJ commented, not putting too much thought into her words. However, everyone noticed how quiet the other two women got. This caused both blondes to also pause.

“Everything okay?” Jennifer asked, eyes darting between everyone in the room.

“Yeah, um, she’s not just my friend. She’s my girlfriend.” Emily stated, setting down her wine glass. There was a pause as they processed the information.

“I think we need something extra to celebrate our beloved Emil Prentiss finally getting a date! I think I’ve still got some cake in the fridge.” Garcia was gushing over this, while JJ sat there stunned.

“Is everything okay?” The woman piped up, unsure as to how her girlfriend’s colleague was taking it.

“No, yeah. I’m fine. Trust me, nothing to do with you being lesbian, I just… I’m amazed that you’re dating someone.”

“Well, believe it.” Prentiss chuckled.

However, JJ happily leaned over the coffee table towards the other woman, catching her attention. “I can tell you wonderful stories about all the different people that have tried to tame this mare.”

“Okay. You know what, I think we should be going…”

“I have cake!”

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you." A. A. Milne

[junosmindpalace]

Hey! I'm a long time reader of yours. I'm finding myself real down on my luck lately, and life has been kicking my ass (medical school, and this flu season amongst other things). May I request headcanons of Gen or Ukyo taking care of a sick reader?

hello hello!! i’m very grateful that you’ve stuck around and enjoy my writing!  i’m so sorry to hear life hasn’t been treating you so good, and i hope things pick up for you soon :( 

gen or ukyo…why not both!

GEN ASAGIRI

Depending on the severity of your sickness, Gen may initially be a little reluctant to be around you. 

He’s a bit of a drama queen, swooning over how sad it is that you’re in such a state, worrying about whether or not he’ll catch anything from you, teasing that he should keep his distance. 

Yet when your unimpressed features finally send the messages that his jokes and attitudes weren’t all that funny, he sobers up and truly is one of the most committed to looking after you out of everyone in the camp. 

He truly and honestly worries about you; he hates seeing you in such distress, and though subconsciously he may also want to save his own skin and comfort by averting his eyes, he forces himself to stay by you for both your sakes. 

Especially if your sickness is something that can evolve to be life threatening, he’ll stay by your bedroll all night if it means giving himself some peace of mind. 

He acts as a messenger between you and the rest of the Kingdom of Science. Anything you want or need, Gen is immediately out to ask someone to bring it over, or he’s going off to retrieve it himself. 

He brings meals to your bed(roll) and insists he feeds you, even when you tell him he doesn’t need to. 

He’s surprisingly diligent and mindful of your body; he thinks to put a soothing cloth on your skin for some relief, and takes care to change it regularly. He’s quiet when he moves around, so as to not disturb you while you attempt to rest and dull the ache in your head.

When you’re up for it, Gen most likes to talk you out of hyper fixating on your pain. He’ll complain about people and complain about tasks they force him to undertake, always in a theatrical way that makes you chuckle, which reassures him greatly.

Sometimes he may even pull out some of his magic tricks to amuse you. If not tricks, then regular games of cards and showcases of all the flowers he managed to find and pick and preserve. 

Most of the time when he’s in your company, however, he’s trying to busy himself one way or another. Sitting and staring at your weakening state for too long makes him nervous. He feels the need to pace, to do something. 

Overall, tries to continue acting like his arrogant self, but his actions give away his concern, and he’s more than relieved when you recover from your ailment. 

UKYO SAIONJI 

Ukyo, in many ways, is incredibly similar to Gen, just without the arrogance and dramatics and more concern instead. 

It’s hard for him to hide behind a smile like Gen does, however; when it comes to you, his emotions are kind of plain to see, almost impossible to hide. He’ll give you reassuring squeezes of the hand or shoulder, laugh with you and offer all his support, but you can tell the whole thing makes him uneasy, and when he isn’t wearing a smile for your sake, he’s silently grieving your condition (especially if it appears life threatening). 

So you’ll both need some comforting, perhaps a squeeze of his shoulder in order to get his tension to diffuse just the slightest bit. But Ukyo is always there to pull you out of your misery with reassurances that the sickness won’t last forever, and that you’ll recover soon enough, reborn into a stronger body (and mind). 

In the meantime, he does what he can for you. He takes over your chores, brings you your meals, and stands by you with his bow at night; just in case. 

Conversation is the main way he attempts to get your mind off your sickness. Talking about himself, updating you on the day’s happenings, asking questions about you and the things you like--anything and everything if it means keeping you as spirited as possible. It’s also a subconscious reassurance for himself that you show potential in recovery. 

He also works closely beside Senku and the other villagers who closely monitor your condition and attempt to help you recover through whatever means they can think up (or invent). Though he may not know all the science behind the recovery methods, he’ll recommend remedies from his own experience and ask questions as to what he can do in order to best support you.

When you do eventually recover, he’s just as bright and cheery (and perhaps even relieved) as you are, though he may remain a little more protective of you than normal, not wanting you to contract a similar ailment.

[bumblebeehug]

hi friend. i am in desperate need of a chapter 520 reversal. lucy’s body heat is down and our man Natsu needs to help,,, post Alvarez PLEASE💗 love all your fics btw.

i'm yours no matter

Summary: Lucy comes back from a tough job in a terrible state: she's in a coma, Porlyusica won't stop naming risks and consequenses of the damage she's taken, and Natsu wants to throw up out of worry. Notes: glad fortsättning as we say in sweden! christmas is over, i have to study for my test, new years will probably leave me with the worst hangover ever bc when hasn't it :') but here's a hurt/comfort fic to satisfy y'all until the middle of january<3 thank you bluedragneel for this request, i'm obsessed with this trope and might write it again some day teehee :3 Ao3 - FF.net

***

Natsu would never have let Lucy go without him on this mission if he knew the state she’d come back in. He clenched and unclenched his fists while trying to understand what Porlyusica was saying, between odd medical terms and concerned small talk. He didn’t care about the details: he needed to know what happened and how it was going to be fixed.

“Boy, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? What? Come again?”

Porlyusica sighed, a vain threatening to pop out of her forehead.

“This is important. We don’t know how she’ll recover, if she recovers. If she does wake up we won’t be certain if she makes it out without brain damage. Wendy did the best she could, but even her magic is limited.” The fact that Porlyusica wasn’t screaming or yelling with rage, or even annoyingly tapping her foot or actively scowling at him made it clear that this was serious. She tried to appear calm, but in this case it only made him more worried.

“What… does brain damage mean? What would happen to her?” Natsu wasn’t sure he’d like the answer, but he had to know.

“What it entails?” She clarified, getting half a nod as an answer. “Well, if her brain is too damaged, her attention and concentration could suffer, we don’t yet know to what degree. She could also have problems with her memories, and making decisions and motivation would become difficult. This could mean that she’ll be more easily distracted, or she’ll experience information overload and become slower at taking in and making sense of information. Her work as a wizard would be jeopardized.”

Natsu felt a headache creeping on. He wasn’t sure if he properly understood half of that, but it sounded bad. His throat felt thick, swallowing seemingly didn’t help.

“That’s not all though.” Natsu glared at her.

“There’s more?”

He felt ill to his stomach. What could possibly be worse than what she’d just told him?

“We don’t know the exact circumstances around what caused this coma. Her sustained injuries have me worried that she’ll become disabled. It’s not certain she’ll be able to walk or talk like before.”

“What,” he hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier!?”

“I did tell you, you were just too busy throwing a hissyfit to listen.” If eyes could kill, Natsu would be ten feet under. “I’m not saying there’s nothing to be done, though.”

Natsu almost perked up. He didn’t dare have any high hopes, but a spark of possibility had shown itself: maybe she’d end up okay. Just maybe.

“What we know from the mission is that the client requested protection from a snow monster. Its estimated strength was around ten times the strength of a vulcan, and not only that – it was said to use strange curses. As curses are unregulated, we’re not sure what could have caused exactly this, but we understand that she got thrown headfirst into the mountain. It was Loke that brought her back, but due to how different the time flows in the celestial world, she’d already been out in the snow for a couple of hours.” Porlyusica tried to summarize again what had happened, considering Natsu had been too worried to listen the first time. “We already have Levy, Freed and Makarov working to figure out the curse, but there’s something I want you to do in the meantime.”

Natsu perked up, listening intently. If he could do something, anything, to get her back, he’d do it without a second thought.

“You need to keep her warm.”

“I can do that!” Natsu almost laughed in relief. He’s a dragon slayer – warming things was the thing he did best!

“You have to make the transition steady though. If you heat her up too quickly she could go into shock. Do you understand? You have to start by warming her with your body heat. This is important, you cannot rush things like these.” Porlyusica narrowed her eyes. If he got careless Lucy’s health could be in danger.

“Body heat? So what do I do, just warm her with my hands? It’s gonna take ages.” He fidgeted with his hands, suddenly more impatient than usual. Not to warm Lucy, specifically, just to get her treatment started. He understood how important it was to follow Porlyusica’s instructions: she’d never been wrong about this before.

“Do you remember back when Fiore was at war with Alvarez? You had that tumour in you, and you too were passed out in a coma. Back then, your fire was going out: you were rapidly freezing to death. Lucy was the one who kept you alive, and she did so with skin to skin contact. Today I need you to do the same.”

Goosebumps appeared on Natsu’s arms as he recalled. That was a time he didn’t think fondly of. He went through a lot of hardship back then, even if waking up to Lucy and Happy was something that had given him relief at the time. That’s right, where was Happy?

“Y-yeah, I’ll do it,” he mumbled scattermindedly. “Do you know where Happy went? I rushed here so fast, I’m not sure I told him what was going on…”

Porlyusica sighed. This boy was something else, wasn’t he? Not in the best way either, she feared.

“While you were yelling and getting mad, trying to run to the client of her mission for revenge, I explained everything to him. He’s already gotten a head start. I urge you to join him.” This time her glare was comparable to lazer, earning a hard gulp from Natsu. Still, he was relieved to hear Happy wasn’t in the dark: he knew how much those two meant for each other. If Lucy fell ill and Happy couldn’t be there to help… He didn’t want to think of it. Happy had been much more protective of Lucy ever since he felt Future Lucy die. That went for Natsu too of course.

___

Natsu gulped again and looked back at Porlyusica. Lucy layed behind those hospital drapes, shallow breaths filling up the room. Her scent did its usual work of calming him, but he noticed that it didn’t carry in the air like usual. He was sure that curse and her lack of body heat had something to do with it.

Porlyusica had turned around as she let Natsu undress. She’d seen him in this light attire before, but as a healer she had some courtesy to at least wait until he was finished. Natsu awkwardly cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

“Do I… Take off my underwear?” Porlyusica nearly choked on her own spit.

“No. Please don’t. For all our sake. She’s still a lady.” The last sentence was muttered in a voice barely louder than a whisper, but Natsu heard it. Still, he didn’t want to do anything wrong. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling his arms hang along his sides. This situation was so odd. He wasn’t exactly shy, but being bare like this in a serious situation felt vulnerable. He wanted to wear his scarf, but she had rejected that idea as soon as he said it. Something about the neck being an important area as a heat source.

Porlyusica turned around, not sparing him as much as a glance. Instead she headed straight to the curtains and drew them to the side. There she was. Under a couple of blankets. So still that he’d be worried for her life didn’t he hear her pulse. It was faint, a bit irregular, but there. He’d made sure to really listen for it this time.

“What are you waiting for? Join her.” The healer motioned at the bed.

“It’s so small though…” he puzzled. If he had a Jewel for every time Porlyusica sent him a stare that was out to kill, he’d have enough money to buy not just Lucy’s apartment, but her entire apartment building. He took that as a sign to keep quiet if he was about to question Porlyusica’s methods.

“You’re gonna need to cuddle close anyways, just hurry up. We’ve already wasted too much time.”

Natsu took a shaky breath and lifted Lucy’s blanket. Her bluish pale hands laying against her sides made his heart drop. This was really serious. Just because this was a treatment that could help, didn’t mean that her health would perfectly return. If anything, this was just another flighty attempt to heal her. Surely it wouldn’t benefit her as much as lifting the curse: had Natsu been smarter, maybe he could have helped her faster.

He shook his head. No, he had to focus on what he could do here and now. Worrying about things that could have been wouldn’t help at all, even if he was right about this body-warming treatment only helping a little. It might just be the thing that would keep her away from this brain damage thing Porlyusica had been talking about. He finally crawled into bed beside her.

Cold. She was really cold. His first instinct was to make his own body heat higher, but as he was about to he heard Porlyusica’s warnings echo in his mind. If he didn’t take this slow, new complications could arise. He just had to slowly get used to this sensation.

Porlyusica suddenly spoke up.

“Now, I don’t want you just laying there doing nothing.”

Natsu sent her a confused look. Wasn’t this what she’d asked him to do?

“You need to talk to her. Say her name. Whatever happened on her mission, I’m growing increasingly uncertain of her coma being caused by a concussion. If anything, it’s more likely that it’s a magic coma. And if it’s a curse, nothing helps breaking it better than love. You need to call out to her.”

For the first time in a very long time, Natsu felt himself blush. Just faintly, but the indication that his love for Lucy would be the thing to wake her up, made him feel weird inside. Not a bad weird, just… weird.

“She did the same to you,” she added, only pouring gasoline on the fire inside of him. “If I didn’t think this was important I’d ask for someone else for help, much earlier. Elfman has a large body, he could easily get her to a normal body temp.”

This time, her implications made Natsu tense up instead. He didn’t like the thought of that giant muscle head cuddling with Lucy, skin to skin. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist, as to protect her from whatever googly eyed guy that would come waltzing in, in hopes to join them under her blanket.

“Don’t look so stupid. Getting angry gets you nowhere. Anyway, you’re the one who has to do this. If anything can wake her, whether she’s under a curse or not, it’s the connection you share. So I need you to talk to her.”

Natsu once again felt weird inside. He couldn’t pin the feeling down: was it that he felt vulnerable? Or that he felt embarrassed, doing all this in front of someone else? It was awfully intimate after all. Happy was one thing, but having another person listen to him calling out her name like a lost, desperate puppy? Well, awkward or not, it had to be done. He cleared his throat again and looked back at Lucy with determination. He felt his arms lightly shake her from a natural body reaction.

“Lucy,” he tried, his voice sounding weak in the still room. “Hey Lucy, come on… Wake up, would’ya?”

For the first time since Natsu entered the room, Happy spoke up. He seemed like he was in his own world, dazed in worry. Hearing Natsu must have made him realise what had been going on around him.

“Lushy…” The nasal croak he let out made it clear he’d been crying. Natsu envied him a little: he wanted to cry too, but if he did he was sure he’d have a complete breakdown. He had to focus on getting her awake – crying wasn’t an option. Porlyusica shifted her weight. It looked like she wanted to sit down, but she had to join the others with coming up with a cure soon.

“You have to try harder than that Natsu. A tip to not feel like you’re going crazy just repeating her name, is to recall old memories. It’ll keep you busy from anxiety and worry, plus it’ll strengthen your and her resolve. Besides, it’ll make your bond feel stronger. I think that could be beneficial in a case like this.” Porlyusica watched as Natsu turned her words in his mind, trying to understand exactly what she meant. “I’ll trust you to do this now, don’t let her down.”

With those words Porlyusica left the infirmary, leaving Natsu and Happy with their unconscious friend.

Natsu held Lucy close, her icy skin a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. Carefully he glanced at Happy, who looked like he was close to dissociating. If he didn’t start talking now, he’d probably have to deal with two traumatised people who meant a lot to him, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to do that.

This thought was enough to kick him into action. He swallowed hard, his voice low and trembling as he spoke.

"Lucy… you’ve gotta come back. You can’t leave us like this." Carefully he grabbed her hand, her fingertips almost blue from lack of blood circulation. His grip tightened just slightly, as if willing her to feel the warmth spreading from his fingers. "I don’t know what happened out there, but I’m here now, okay? So… so just wake up."

He took a shaky breath, tangling his legs with hers, just like he’d done so many times before in her apartment. This time it was different. This entire situation made him want to cringe, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.Why her out of all people? He’d never been the one who solved problems tenderly. He could fight, get revenge, he’d always been confident of his ability to do grand gestures to fix what was wrong. He couldn’t handle things with care, make out nuances in language, emotion or even a thing like physical hurt. If Lucy ever got injured she’d be honest and frank: sure, she tried to go on for a little bit longer than she should, even while having deep gushes through her legs or shoulders popped out of place. But she was honest enough about it that Natsu always knew what to do about it: sear the opening of the wound, fetch Wendy, pop her bones back into place. Those things were child's play in comparison to this. Now he had to carefully heat her up, not too quickly but not too slowly either, while calling out to her, pulling on whatever strings they had on each other’s unconsciousness. He was aware of the connection they shared, and he was normally confident in it: at times he felt like they shared one and the same mind. But this? He wasn’t so sure it was enough anymore.

"You’re always the one who’s there for everyone," he continued, his voice breaking just a little. "You never give up, no matter how bad things get. That’s who you are. So don’t stop now, Lucy. Please… just don’t."

Happy joined in through whispers in her ear, not daring to raise his voice in case it’d crack. Natsu felt his heart break a little as he watched him hold on to Lucy for dear life. It was one thing that Natsu felt like this, but Happy wasn’t meant to be sad: he had spent his whole life making sure he would get the childhood Natsu never got. For him to have to almost lose Lucy twice: it was a pain Natsu could barely cope with himself. He was genuinely worried about his furry friend.

Still, he had to stay focused. He remembered what Porlyusica had told him, about memories being an effective way to keep his anxiety at bay, while still grasping at Lucy’s unconscious.

His thoughts raced, memories flashing through his mind. The way she’d smiled when they took their first job together, the way she’d always trusted him to catch her when she’d fall, how she always knew what to say to get him to keep moving forward.

"Hey, Lucy… You gotta wake up, you know? I promised you we’d go on more adventures, back when we fought against Future Rogue and…" His voice cracked, he still didn’t dare finish that sentence. "Whenever I was a wreck, you were there. You didn’t give up on me, not even for a second. So now it’s my turn, Lucy. I’m not giving up on you."

Happy’s soft, tearful voice chimed in from beside them. "Lushy… we need you. Please wake up."

Natsu’s jaw clenched. He would do anything to get her out of this. He just wished he could do something more effective. Deep in his stomach he felt his fire work it’s magic: he’d been suppressing it so he wouldn’t warm her up too quickly, so to not slip up and unleash a heat wave on the three of them, he took a deep breath.

“I… Guess this is the time to tell you how thankful we are that we met you all those years ago.” Happy met Natsu’s flickering gaze, sharing a small encouraging nod. “We really are thankful. Like, we’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you.” He tried to chuckle at the attempt of a joke, but Happy didn’t seem as pleased. Natsu cleared his throat.

“What I’m trying to say is… well… we can’t imagine a life without you. If I ever had to go back to only sleeping in my swine sty of a house, instead of being with you everyday, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my sanity. Even when you scream and do all kinds of weird stuff, we need you.”

“Lushy,” Happy sniffled, “what would I do if I had to go back to only living with Natsu? I’d starve! He burns my fish and everything else we own…”

“Oh come on! You’ve survived up till now!” Natsu protested, but couldn’t bring himself to actually find a counter argument. He was telling the truth after all. Happy glared at him and continued talking.

“I know he’s really stupid,” he began, earning a stern frown from Natsu, “but I think he might be the one who’d hate it the most if you died. But that aside, I don’t think I could stand losing you again.” Tears were once again pouring out of his eyes. “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual proper mom…”

The last part would have been impossible for Natsu to hear, hadn’t it been for his dragon-hearing. He swallowed the big knot in his throat that threatened to come out as a sob. He didn’t know Happy had felt so strongly about Lucy, though it made sense as he heard it. Of course she was like a mom to him: she was perfect like that. Caring, worrisome at times, but always loving.

“Hey, you heard him, right? You can’t leave Happy after he tells you something like that, can you? So hurry and wake up… You’d never forgive me if I scared you like this, so come on…”

“But you did scare us like that though,” Happy argued.

“Oh can it,” Natsu muttered, raising his body temperature another degree.

While continuing talking, mixing the casual bickering with emotional anecdotes, Natsu started massaging Lucy’s right hand, the one with her guild mark. Laying there, he realised that the colour of it really was the exact same shade as his hair. The thought tugged on his heartstrings. Had she even meant for that to happen, when he made her join Fairy Tail all those years ago? Had she always been determined that it would be the two of them – and Happy of course – teaming up? Even if that wasn’t the case, if it had been her unconscious that picked the shade of pink so close to his hair, he still wanted to tear up. The two of them were so incredibly attached, to the point where Natsu couldn’t even imagine a life without her anymore.

He continued observing her hand as he massaged her soft skin. It was slender, a nuance less blue than it had been when he laid down with her some minutes ago. This realisation sparked some hope within him. They were helping her: it was working. Continuing the talking, letting his mouth speak whatever flew into his brain, he simultaneously went on thinking about her hand. When she proudly showed it off to him when her mark was new, it had been in pristine condition. Soft, flawless, not a callus or scar in sight. Her nails had been long, carefully taken care of, painted a light pink that almost seemed nude in comparison to the bright pink guild mark. As he looked at it now, it was covered in scars. Some cuts from falling on gravel, some webbing up her wrist like veins. He knew that must have been reminiscent of when she rewrote E.N.D. for him. Another constellation of scars resembled shattering, likely scars from when she had to summon the Celestial Spirit King back when they fought Tartarus. Most of these scars gave Natsu shivers. They were all pale and faded now, but he knew they must cause Lucy pain every day. To carry her biggest joy and her worst pain on the same hand seemed taxing.

He brought her fingers up to his lips, pressed them against them lightly. Then he embraced her, letting her limp, cool body rest against his. Her skin was so soft, but he didn’t enjoy this fake cuddle session: he wanted her to be awake, or even asleep would be better: even when she was asleep she ended up reciprocating his cuddles. This made him feel like he was hugging a corpse, and it was quickly rated as one of his least favourite sensations.

In his new position he could hug her from behind, the many pillows propped up behind his back making him sit up slightly. This allowed for Lucy’s head to rest on his chest, right by his collarbones. Carefully he nudged her a little bit to the left. Maybe his heartbeat could aid them in some way: he wasn’t sure how, but it couldn’t help to try. Happy nudged himself between Natsu’s embracing arm and Lucy’s chest, covering up what would be a very revealing view hadn’t he laid there. Any other day her nudity would be arousing for Natsu, but today it didn’t have that effect. Rather than arousing, it gave him a sense of security. Their bodies, pressed against each other, like clinging on to Lucy’s soul for dear life.

He rested his lips on the top of her head for a while. Happy was in the middle of yapping about Lisanna, his biological mom and Lucy, when Natsu suddenly felt her arm twitch. It was small, and he’d disregard it as his imagination hadn’t he heard her breath hitch at the same time.

“Lucy?” He hugged her tighter, squashing Happy a little in the process. “Happy, I think she’s responding. She just twitched! Keep talking,” he urged, nuzzling his face into her neck. He was certain of it: she had reacted.

Suddenly his resolve increased tenfold, his fiery determination bubbling to the surface. He didn’t care how long this took—he’d stay by her side until she opened her eyes.

"Lucy," he said, his tone growing stronger, more resolute. "I’m not going anywhere, got it? You’re stuck with me, so you’d better wake up and yell at us for being too loud or something. You always do."

Once again he thought he saw the faintest flicker of movement—a twitch of her fingers against his hand. His breath hitched.

"Lucy? Come on, it’s me. Natsu." He leaned closer to her ear, her smell filling his head until he felt completely intoxicated. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "I need you. We all do. So please… wake up."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, her lips parted, and a faint sound escaped.

"N… Natsu…"

His eyes widened, hope surging through him like a wildfire. "Lucy!”

Happy dried his eyes that were puffy from all the crying he’d done. He was quick to jump out of their embrace.

“I’ll go get Porlyusica!” He almost left the room before he turned back, lifted her blanket a little to cover the goods, and then hurried away. Natsu barely registered his actions, his focus being completely tuned in on Lucy.

With a split moment alone, Natsu almost felt overwhelmed with the silence. She’d called out his name, though only faint, but instead of her heartbeat rising to accommodate her waking up, it seemed like it was slightly fading. Worry filled Natsu’s head, the anxiety shooting out prickling sensations in his arms and legs.

“Lucy, what’s going on? Why’s your heartbeat slowing down?” His high pitch made the worry apparent, but he didn’t care. “Shit, come on! Stay with me!”

He rocked their bodies back and forth in hope that he’d manage to keep her heart pulsing. It was quickly made apparent that it wasn’t enough, when for a split moment her heart missed a beat.

This time he couldn’t conceal his panic. No one was nearby, Lucy was fading away by the second, and all Natsu could do was choke out a small “Please…”. He didn’t know what to do, tears welling up in his eyes faster than he was prepared for.

“Don’t leave…” he croaked, sobs filling the silence. “Shit, Lucy, I can’t live without you… I love you…”

Had he not been busy pressing her lukewarm cheek against his, rocking them back and forth, and trying to swallow the sobs that leaked out anyways, he’d notice that his confession pulled Lucy’s heartbeat back for a few seconds. But he didn’t notice this: instead he continued his endeavors of grasping whatever life was left in her.

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy… Please…” He opened his eyes again, quickly regretting it as they soaked Lucy’s face in the salty liquid. He wanted to see her face properly, take in her soft features before it was too late. He grabbed her face with his free hand, slowly letting his thumb caress her cheek. His blurred vision made him miss how her eyebrows twitched into a furrow. Instead he let his heart steer his actions: he didn’t know what else to do.

Pushing her bangs out of her face, Natsu let his lips land on hers. Softly, his hot ones on Lucy’s dry cold ones. His chin quivered – he didn’t want his first kiss with her to be his last one. In fact, he never wanted his first kiss to be with Lucy while she was unconscious at all. He had thought of their relationship for a long time, even imagining them having their first kiss under the stars after a dinner that would leave both of them too stuffed to walk. They were supposed to be joking around, laughing, and he’d look at her, look into her brown, sparkling eyes, that held a universe inside of them, and he wouldn’t be able to contain himself, so he’d lean in and kiss her: and she’d kiss him back. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, in a sterile bed, in the infirmary that had too bright lights, naked under blankets, Lucy dying in his hands.

Still, he didn’t dare to stop kissing her. And good thing he didn’t, because suddenly, for him out of nowhere, he felt her kiss him back.

In shock he pulled away, his eyes big as plates.

“L-lucy? You’re…” Silent tears kept falling onto Lucy’s face. Her eyelids fluttered, and after what felt like an eternity, they opened, her brown eyes glassy but unmistakably alive. She blinked up at him, her voice hoarse but clear.

"You’re… warm," she murmured, her lips curling into a weak but familiar smile.

Natsu laughed, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t scare me like that…” he muttered, a blush spreading across his face before he could stop it. "But you’re back. That’s all that matters."

Lucy slowly brought her hand up, cupping Natsu’s cheek.

“Did you kiss me?”

Natsu avoided her eyes, awkwardly tensing up.

“I thought Porlyusica said you’d have brain damage or something…” Lucy was quick to hit him on his arm.

“Are you stupid? Don’t wish I wouldn’t understand something like that!” Her voice was shrill, cutting through Natsu’s ears like knives, but today he didn’t care about that. He was insanely happy to have her back to normal.

He let out a chuckle, albeit against his own will.

“It’s not like I hoped for our first kiss to be like that.”

Lucy just smiled. She had put out a lot of energy right as she woke up: truth was, she still felt exhausted and honestly a bit dizzy. After getting a good look at Natsu, taking in his worried frown, his wet cheeks and reddened eyes, she closed her eyes again.

“What are you?! Lucy! Wake up!” He violently shook her this time, not allowing her to fade away again.

“Calm down,” she puffed, “I just need to rest a little.” Slowly she sneaked one eye open, observing Natsu as his wrinkle became more prominent.

“How do I know you won’t die in your sleep?”

“Well, for one you don’t keep believing that I will. Don’t manifest it.” She tried to joke, but it was apparent Natsu didn’t understand what she meant. She sighed. “Just… Stay here, please?”

She turned her body around so she laid on her stomach on top of him. It was at this moment she realised the attire they both were in.

“Natsu..?” She whispered against his chest.

“Yeah?” Natsu had started rubbing his hand against her back in a repetitive motion. This time he was making sure she’d stay alive.

“Why are we naked?”

Natsu didn’t know if the sound he let out was a chuckle or a sob – perhaps a mix of both. It was such a relief to hear her worry about her usual things.

“Don’t ya’ worry ‘bout it,” he smiled, continuing to rub her back.

“Well that’s not suspicious,” she mumbled as she slowly fell back to sleep. This time it felt better for Natsu: her body was warmer, her arms were hugging him back, and now he knew any major damages could be disregarded.

That’s when he heard Happy let out a cry of joy, flying up to nuzzle against her cheek. "Lushy! You’re okay!"

Natsu hurried to push him away with a harsh “shh”. Happy would start an argument hadn’t he seen the corners of Lucy’s mouth curl into a soft smile, her eyes opening briefly to greet her feline friend. Her heart twinged at his tearful eyes, but she still managed to give him a playful blink. She wanted to assure him she’d be back to normal soon. Porlyusica stepped forward into the room, her expression as stern as ever, but a hint of relief apparent in her eyes.

"She’s not out of the woods yet. Keep her warm and let her rest. But this… this is a good sign."

Natsu nodded, his arms tightening protectively around Lucy. 

"Ya’ don’t gotta worry. I have her."

Lucy’s eyes drifted closed again, her breathing steadying as she slipped into a more peaceful sleep. Happy hugged her shoulder tightly. He was so relieved that she was okay. And Natsu? He was beyond relief. If he could, he would have cloned himself so one of his bodies could do a celebratory dance, meanwhile the other could stay here, holding her tight, making sure she could stay comfortable for as long as she needed. He didn’t know any cloning magic though, so he let his imaginary clone work the floor beside the bed while Porlyusica hurried around the two of them, counting Lucy’s heartbeat, drawing her blood for testing, checking her pupils for dilating. Despite the worrying things she was doing to her, Natsu managed to stay calm. Maybe it was the deep breaths he felt against his torso, or the tiny, almost invisible nudging Lucy did to get her body closer to his, but Natsu felt at peace.

Everything would be fine. He wouldn’t let her go:  not now – not ever.

[persuasivetfs]

A Favor Part Two

After his merger with The Ali Gomaa, Muhammad had wanted some alone time to get acquainted with his new form, preferably in the solitude of a bedroom, but Rajesh had hurried the man along into his car instead.

The pair only had 14 hours to drive from San Diego to Sante Fe, check into their hotel, and arrive at the convention center before 9 AM opening time.

In the meantime, Muhammad was to spend as much time soaking in information about Ali Gomaa as he could. His personal connections, his career, his knowledge of body-building.

“Hey, I thought that this body ‘doubling’ thing was going to handle all that,” Muhammad protested, his insecure voice sounding like a whisper in a cave coming out of Ali Gomaa’s chest.

“Body ‘doubling’ takes time, man. Besides, it's not like you got anything else to do for a 12 hour car ride, right?” Rajesh pointed out, as he threw the last of Ali’s bags into the backseat of his car.

Muhammad sighed and did as he was told.

For this project, Rajesh had prepared for him a series of curated videos. Interviews, exercise and diet plans, footage of past competitions, video footage of Ali spending time with his loved ones, even snippets of reels from the Instagram account Rajesh managed for his boss.

After 6 hours, all the information began to blur together, making Muhammad feel more out of his element than being made 100 pounds heavier with pure muscle.

Still if he couldn’t trust his memory, Muhammad could at least trust Rajesh. The two had been best-friends since childhood. If Rajesh said all he needed was to watch some videos and the body would naturally do the rest so he would.

In the middle of the drive, the car suddenly swerved down the main road.

“Rajesh!” Muhammad yelled in alarm, glaring at his friend. “I’m sorry, Mr.Gomaa I was distracted and-“ Rajesh started but as the two looked at each other they started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. They were Muhammad and Rajesh, not Rajesh and Mr.Gomaa despite Muhammad’s new appearance yet it’d been so easy for the two to lean into those roles without a second’s hesitation.

“You really had me going there for a minute,” Rajesh chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You weren’t kidding about this man’s knee jerk reaction to yell at you,” Muhammad said with a smirk. “Though maybe keep your eyes on the road, next time. Inshallah we actually make it to Santa Fe in one piece,” Muhammad chided, drawing an annoyed nod and an eye roll from Rajesh. Muhammad pretended not to notice.

The rest of the ride was largely uneventful, even with Rajesh forced to go over the local speed limit to make it there in time.

This drew a feeling of immense annoyance from Muhammad’s body, but he took a breath and let it go. It was getting harder and harder to alleviate the man’s naturally high levels of irritation. If he wasn’t careful he could explode on Rajesh in a way their friendship might not recover.

Once in Santa Fe, the pair quickly signed in at the hotel, dumped off their belongings and then headed down to the convention center.

Before he even got his foot in the door Muhammad found himself greeted by an endless list of fellow competitors, coaches, and fans. It brought to him a stream of new memories rooted in sensations. The musty scent of tanning spray, the adoration in the voice of strangers, the sizzling heat of the stage lights. The last feeling made his stomach twist in agony, but he soon forgot it as Rajesh pushed him backstage.

Many of Muhammad’s fellow competitors for the Men’s Classic round were already present and ready for the stage, muscular bodies glistening with spray tan and sweat making last minute preparations with their fully clothed support teams.

“Remember, what we talked about. Let your body focus on the right movements while you keep yourself calm under the hot lights. I’ll get your pre-ordered tanning spray from the booth while you get undressed,” Rajesh hastily explained before walking off.

After Muhammad stripped down to nothing but a clingy black speedo, he didn’t have much time for standing around before he found himself joined by an attractive older stranger.

The stranger was a man in his early 50s with a number of wrinkles and confident silver hair lined with black. Despite his age, the man was clearly in top shape, with massive pectorals peeking out under a cotton shirt. The kind of older man that Muhammad dreamed about whisking him off his feet and into his luxury penthouse apartment.

“Looking good as always, Ali, though not always on time it seems,” the man greeted, taking Muhammad into a platonic hug.

Looking at his lanyard hanging around the stranger’s shoulder, he was able to read that this was the other part of Ali’s competition team: Yusef Darbandi.

“Alhamdulillah we arrived here in one piece, Yusef. Rajesh nearly got us killed with his speeding to get us here on time,” Muhammad fumed. Yusef laughed.

“That boy sure is devoted isn’t he? At least for the last few years. Before then I always thought he was planning on using you for the start of his own career and ditching us at his earlier convenience, but he’s really proved me wrong,” Yusef admired, watching Rajesh as he waited at the body spray booth.

“That Rajesh boy’s a good kid. Dedicated and clever. I just wish he wasn’t so reckless. He could go so far otherwise,” a wave of fatherly affection washed over Muhammad as he spoke.

While once he had been a contemporary, Muhammad was starting to see Rajesh as a young man who needed a mature man’s careful guidance and training. He was hard on Rajesh, sure, but he’d been no less harsh on his own three sons. Boys needed a rigid sense of discipline, otherwise they’d become easily distracted and misled. Rajesh was no exception.

“Good to see you, Coach Yusef. I’m glad they let you backstage before Mr.Gomaa arrived,” Rajesh greeted as he returned with the tanning spray.

“He’s a legend, Rajesh. The winner of Mr.Tehran International in 2005 and 2009. Of course they let him in,” Muhammad bristled. Rajesh looked away.

“Oh, take it easy on him. I’ve been denied access to competitions, ID badge or not on multiple occasions. Now before you go on, Ali, make sure to put some perk into those pectorals. You may be a seasoned pro, but you always forget such a simple technique,” Yusef corrected.

“I’ll remember, Yusef. How could I not, with you nitpicking my movements all these years?” Muhammad prodded back, making both laugh.

While slightly annoyed at the critique, Muhammad nonetheless adjusted himself at Yusef’s suggestion, puffing out his chest as if he was before a cheering crowd.

Rajesh worked methodically as he sprayed Ali’s body with the oil, his hands mapping perfectly along Ali’s impressive triceps and quads with a surgeon’s precision. Still there were times when as Rajesh was rubbing his hand to massage the oil deeper into Ali’s skin, his fingers would linger, tracing along his pecs and abs in a way that felt more than platonic. Muhammad had a sense that Ali wouldn’t have noticed such a gesture, but Muhammad did, causing Rajesh to look away nervously as if he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Once he was done, Muhammad posed before Yusef and Rajesh, taking in Yusef’s last-minute critiques before the man firmly slapped him on the ass.

“Now, get out there and win yourself another gold trophy! Prove again that this sport isn’t just a young man’s game,” Coach Yusef encouraged with a thumbs up.

“Good luck out there, Mr. Gomaa!” Rajesh cheered up, a proud smile upon his face.

Muhammad nodded giving them a thumbs up in return before joining the other men for the line out to the stage. As he waited, immense dread crept up and along his intestines. The immense heat, the bright lights, the waiting crowd, the keen eyes of the judges. It was all too much.

His body wanted to bolt, and it needed to stay on that stage performing the bodybuilding poses Muhammad otherwise had no real knowledge of.

He took a deep breath, and allowed his natural sense of calm to worm deep into his new form. Everything was going to be okay.

The tingling sensations died down.

Once free of the anxiety, Ali’s form moved on autopilot, swaggering out onto the stage to great applause. The heat was sweltering and the lights were blinding, but Ali eased himself into his movements allowing the crowd and judges to examine him from every angle. Muhammad did not know the names for the poses he performed, but in this body it felt as natural as riding a bike. You never really forget.

In the end, Ali Gomaa won second place, an end result he was satisfied with though not as much as first place would have been.

“Congrats, champ. Didn’t even need Rajesh to body double for you. I’m proud,” Yusef greeted once Muhammad came off the stage, his skin tingling from being under the lights.

The excitement of the crowd had gotten to him and he decided to flex one of his impressive biceps to show off his new found confidence.

“What can I say? Guess I’ve learned not to take things so seriously,” Ali said with a hearty laugh.

Rajesh said very little, but smiled reticiently as if hiding something but Muhammad didn’t think of it much. What would his best-friend have to hide?

It was only much later after the three had dinner at the hotel restaurant, and bid Yusef a goodbye back to his room that the two had alone time again.

“I’m sorry I keep snapping at you,” Muhammad began but Rajesh waved it off.

“You’re doing great as Ali, man. Better than I did. At the very least if you can’t remember to pose right, you can always fall back on losing your temper. So stay focused, shower, and rest. We got 2 more days of work ahead of us,” Rajesh’s face seemed to twitch with jealousy, but quickly softened. He gave Muhammad a supportive pat on the back, then shut his room door behind him.

Muhammad did as Rajesh asked of him. He showered, struggled in vain to scrub off the tanning oil, then laid out in bed with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Absent-mindedly, Muhammad flexed his right bicep. The muscle contracted, releasing a burst of blood flow into his brain. It reminded him of his first big victory. The ecstatic crowd, the desert heat, the judges proclaiming Ali Gomaa as the first place winner of the Men’s Classic Bodybuilding competition of Cairo in 2009 but that hadn’t been his memory, hadn’t it?

He stood up from the bed with a grunt and walked to the room’s body-length mirror. His towel abandoned to the bed, Muhammad admired Ali’s body in all its bronzed glory.

Muhammad flexed, he posed, he practically pirouetted as he strove to feel every sensation, every inch of this body. Yet as he caught a glimpse in the mirror, he stopped himself.

This wasn’t him. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t true, but the face that stared back at him said otherwise.

Muhammad tried to think of his family, his friends, his life, but they all felt very distant and far away. Ali’s family and friends seemed distant too at least. Yet when thoughts turned to Rajesh, Muhammad felt this strangeness in him.

For on one hand he felt that Rajesh was his best-friend, his contemporary, and he was being brutally honest, his crush. Yet on the other he felt that Rajesh was his student, almost an adoptive son, while he was his elder.

The more he thought about it the more his urges kept blurring together. Rather than just a crush, or a platonic student, Muhammad began to see Rajesh as a potential younger lover. As a man who needed his guidance in the ways of bodybuilding and sex between men. As this change occurred his interest in Yusef officially faded. That man was Ali’s idol, an older trailblazer, not something to be fucked but admired. Rajesh though, he was fair game.

He imagined himself towering over Rajesh in this body, the younger men dressed only in a bright red singlet and his bookish glasses. Him turning Rajesh around and guiding him to a bending over position facing the railing, as he slowly lowered his singlet over his sculpted ass cheeks.

Muhammad was already stroking Ali’s dick at this point, moaning softly. The cheap metal railing would shake as he shoved a beer can’s worth of his dick in and out of his friend’s tight hole.

He came like a rocket onto the carpet with a satisfied gasp. Suddenly too tired to worry about who he was or who he was becoming Muhammad crawled into bed. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to be stuck this way, he sleepily reasoned, especially if he ended up with Rajesh as his boy toy.

While I planned this story as a two-parter, I wanted to linger a bit on Muhammad’s changing mindset in the early days of the convention. So this is going to be a three parter instead.

Stay tuned for the finale whenever I’m done editing. Peace ✌️

[neathyingenue]

What’s been going on with Silvia?

An update ft. sticky note doodles

After hearing that her dear friend the Six-Finger’d Scrimshander was living somewhere that wasn’t a house, Silvia has installed it in the guest room of her Side-Streets flat, where they’ve been getting along swimmingly.

Her professional life is going great! Ever since she and Lord Oswald J. Emerson struck a bargain—he writes silly plays, Silvia writes silly reviews, they create public beef that sells tickets and papers—the Prodigal Plebian has practically been printing itself.

Silvia’s also made a new friend, one Youthful Naturalist! She’s been lending him a hand where she can—trying to convince him to move out of his rookery, and keeping her kitchen stocked with jellied eels should he come over, and taking him wherever he wants to go in her zee-clipper.

In the meantime, she’s been growing frustrated with her lack of progress regarding her research on the Third City. If you’ve been with Silvia for a while, you’ll recall that she has been learning Yucatec Maya and chasing leads to discover if there are any pockets of Third City inhabitants untouched by colonialism where she could convince her remaining dad to move with her. (Hm? Inherently contradictory logic? What inherently contradictory logic?)

Enter the Sixth Coil and the freed captives. Several of them are from the original Third City. Silvia follows them to Venderbight, uses her broken Yucatec Maya to explain what she’s after—

They tell her: There’s no such place as you’re describing. We hang around in Venderbight, but even now, there’s nowhere untouched by the Masters, by London.

Silvia presses them—No, there has to be, maybe you just don’t want me there? Why not? Why won’t you let me in?? I promise I’m trustworthy, I won’t tell—

And she finally realizes that she sounds like a fucking conquistador.

Welp! No better cure for a crumbling belief system and self-perception than to zail as far away from your problems as possible! She and the Youthful Naturalist fuck off for a while and that’s when the Delight gets wind of them.

Speaking of wind. The Wax-Wind catches up with Silvia’s ship. Silvia gets a bad burn across the right side of her neck and shoulders.

Not to just rehash everything that happens ever in Evolution, but, uh, shit hits the fan, Silvia gets pretty traumatized. But secretly she’d glad that she’s helping the Youthful Naturalist, proud of both of them. Her search for precolonial Atlantis failed. But here’s another basket to put some eggs in. If they crack the secret to life and death, well, no one else will have to die like Silvia’s other dad, they can have all the time in the world to create their own utopia.

And the other basket of eggs is the Marvellous. She’s been so busy she’s scarcely had time to think of it [I’ve been on the lodging grind for 3+ months ;_;]. But can’t she just win and make the Masters let go of everything, set everyone free, end imperialism, or whatever? That’s how it works, right?

Oh, by the way, no one knows she’s been doing this shit. Not her father-ish figures, not her flatmate, not her partner, not her best friend, not her newspaper employees. Just her crew, and they are pretty pissed at her right now, so she’s been avoiding them.

Around this time, Silvia gets a letter from Shaw (one such father-ish figure) explaining about Nemesis and saying he might not make it back from his final revenge quest.

ALSO around this time (or maybe right after) Silvia gets what really sounds like a last will and testament from Jones (other father-ish figure).

And ALSO also around this time, Brett (Silvia’s best friend) is recovering from learning of the death of his partner.

Then Silvia forgets to be careful, and Caoimhe (her partner) sees her burns and asks what’s going on. She doesn’t buy Silvia’s story about a cooking accident she forgot to tell Caoimhe about (Silvia never cooks), and she really doesn’t appreciate that Silvia tried to lie. Caoimhe gives Silvia the chance to come clean.

So it all comes out. The Marvellous. The scientific voyages. The experimental surgeries. The multiple supernatural enemies. Caoimhe is appalled that Silvia would be taking all these risks without saying a single word—she thought the most dangerous shit Silvia was involved with was printing ill-advised articles about powerful people. Caoimhe’s extraordinarily patient and supportive, but Silvia didn’t even tell her!

The breach of trust frays at their relationship and drags Silvia further into guilt and despair, especially because Silvia’s support network is spread rather thin at the moment!

So… here we are. Silvia’s standing in the crumbling ruins of her relationships and ideals. She needs to help this 20-year-old cheat death, and then she needs to beat a bat at cards, and she’s so, so sad about everything.

This is it folks! We've hit rock bottom! Even I'm not sure how she's getting out of this one :) :) If you made it this far, thanks for reading <3

[The Six-Finger'd Scrimshander - @T6FS; Lord Oswald J. Emerson - @lord-emerson; August Shaw - @zeebreezin; Robin Jones - @viric-dreams; Brett Heroux - @thedandy-detective; Caoimhe Coledoc - @the-insouciant-scientist]

[sw2-serials]

When She Needs a Real Spanking

Sometimes too much is better than too little.

I used to think that the harder she is working, the busier she is, the more she has to worry about - these are the times I need to back off, ask little or nothing of her, just be supportive. And that's mostly right. Hugs and foot rubs, cuddles and soft love-making - besides picking up the slack wherever I can. And none of the 'you made a mistake (or talked back, or 'I don't like your tone') - prepare yourself for a whipping'!

But that doesn't mean no spanking - it doesn't even mean none of those spankings. Yep, that's right - the out-comes-the-hairbrush, 'over my lap, young lady', let's-get-some-blisters (and tears, lots of tears) going spankings.

In fact, those times when she's busiest, when the stress level - the bad stress, the worrying stress - is the highest - that's just when she needs her bottom reddened the most.

***

"You missed your run on Friday," I tell her.

"Didn't want to take time away from you, we have so little right now," she explains.

"We have plenty. We're together half the day or more, on an hours count."

"Yeah, and asleep for most of it - at least I am."

"You need to be," I assure her. "You need to take some time for yourself, even when you're busy. Especially when you're busy."

"Hmpft. I'll try," she promises.

"Want to tell me what's on your mind?"

"No. It's nothing good - you don't want to hear it."

"Okay, then - if you'd just hand me that hairbrush..." I say.

"No - wait! I... could tell you a few things..."

"I'm waiting... you can hold it in the meantime."

"Gee, thanks," she says facetiously. But she does share.

***

Best I can do is listen - sympathetically.  No suggestions, no solutions, just listening.  With some of the things she tells me, she gets frustrated - others, angry.  Some, resigned.

Halfway through I motion her across my lap.

“Already?” she whines.

“No, no - go on,” I encourage her even as I settle us into position.

I start rubbing this lovely soon-to-be-spanked bottom.  So well spanked.  Mmm, it’s nice.  Her mood stops being frustrated or angry - she’s just talking, telling.  She runs out of things to say, or forgets.

“We’re going to be tired in the morning,” she reminds me.

“Uh huh,” I agree.  I pat-slap her thighs apart so I can knead them, even in the softest spots.  She’s not worried, I’m not going to spank her there.  I want to tease her but we’re too far away from any satisfaction… and if I put off the spanking until tomorrow night, who knows if we’ll have the chance?

So I begin.  Nice, solid, cup-my-hand smacks right at the base.  She squirms and says, ‘Mmm’.

It goes on - and on - hard, then harder.  Squirming intensifies, becomes kicking - already.

Barely a break as I switch to the hairbrush.

“Ohhh…” she whines.  Smack.

This is where she doesn’t get it lightly, even though she’s been good.  This is what took me a long time to realize.  In a word, I roast her bottom.  She fights for another moment, then starts to cry and as she does, relaxes.  Relaxes her soft bottom that’s being smacked hard.  That I am smacking hard.

I put down the hairbrush, go back to my hand.  Her bottom is hot - really hot.  I stop and rub and she moans and squirms again, but we’re not done.  I spank her again, about medium.  She takes it in, absorbs it, tired from the tears and the long day she’s had.

I stop, give her time to recover.  Barely enough time.  Then I proceed to plunder her wonderfully soft body, getting my head between those lovely thighs before I nail her to the bed.

Yes, we’re going to be tired in the morning.

But I’m hoping things will seem a little bit better.

[sickly-qt]

Whatever you've got planned for Mila/Remy and Drew/Finn will be wonderful, but I have to admit I kind of hope Mila does get pregnant - the opportunities for Remy as caretaker are just so good, lol. And I feel like Drew and Finn are actually ready to step up to be parents themselves. But like I said, whatever you decide is great.

In the meantime, Mila has to catch Jules' bug and then pass it on to Remy, right? And Julian takes care of them both? Hmm?

AH I'm so sorry it took me so long to get around to this. But you are SO right, Mila totally has to catch Jules' bug (which happened here for anyone who missed it) and don't worry Remy isn't going to make it out unscathed he's going to suffer soon. However, for now it's Mila's turn.

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

“Feeling okay?” Remy asked, looking at Mila over his glasses.

She was coming down the stairs, her auburn hair damp and hanging in loose waves over her shoulders. What really caught his attention was the way her arms were wrapped around herself and the uncomfortable look on her face

“My stomach is upset.” Mila shrugged, then collapsed onto the couch and laid her head on Remy’s shoulder, looking at the iPad on his lap, “What are you working on?”

“Just putting together some projections for a meeting later this week. Boring stuff.” 

“Don’t you ever stop working, it’s 7pm on a Saturday. You should be paying attention to me and your kids.” She complained.

“By kids you mean the one who’s still sleeping off a stomach bug from hell and the other that can’t be bothered with me because she’s distracted by some new gadget my mom got her?” Remy teased, “I work when I can find the time, and right at this moment, my time is for you.” He closed his iPad case and set it on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around Mila. “You’re warm.” Remy pushed her hair away from her face.

“I am? That’s great, I’ve probably caught what Jules is recovering from.” Mila nuzzled in closer to his side and sighed, “I really don’t feel well.”

“I know, Love. Let me get you something for that fever.”

Mila took the pills with no complaints and promptly passed out on the couch while Remy cleaned up dinner and got Leah bathed and settled for bed. After all of his dad duties he returned to his boyfriend duties and sat on the edge of the couch in front of Mila, gently shaking her awake.

She scrunched up her face and groaned, clearly not happy with having been woken up. 

“C’mon, M. Let’s head up to bed.” He said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear. He frowned, noticing the heat still radiating off her skin. 

“I feel sick,” she whined.

“Nauseous sick or fever and achy sick?”

“Yes.” she sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Mila slowly sat up and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth muffling a small burp. Remy looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“Now?”

She shook her head, “I’ll make it upstairs.” She hiccupped, then grimaced and swallowed hard.

“Okay, c’mon. I actually rather like this carpet down here.”

Remy walked behind her upstairs, his hand hovering by the small of her back as she made her way to their bedroom. 

He peeked in on Jules and Leah to make sure they were both sleeping before trailing Mila into the room where he found her hovering over the toilet in their en-suite. 

“How are we doing, Lovely?” Remy asked gently, filling a glass with water and sitting it on the edge of the sink before grabbing a claw clip out of the vanity drawer.

Mila shook her head, hiccupping. A small burp came up and she gagged a trail of spit hanging from her lips into the water. 

“I don’t feel good.” She stated the obvious.

“I know.” He cooed, gathering all her hair and twisting it up into the clip. Remy settled on the edge of the tub rubbing small circles across her shoulders. 

It didn’t take long for her spine to curl and dinner to make a reappearance in the bowl.

She coughed and sputtered, small burps wracking her until a larger wave came up quickly followed by another. 

“You’re alright, M. Get it all up.” Remy continued rubbing her back. 

Strands of her hair were coming out of the claw clip and he pushed them out of her face, his hand holding her forehead. 

“Ughhh, fuck.” Mila groaned, sniffling. She reached up and flushed the toilet, sitting back. 

“Want some water?” Remy asked quietly.

She nodded, “Please?”

When she drinks some water and keeps it down for a little while they move to bed, Remy sitting the trashcan near her side of the bed just in case. 

“I’m a big girl, I can make it to the bathroom.” She mumbled tiredly.

“I know, I know. It’s just in case, M.” He crawled into bed and she quickly curled up next to him, nestling her head in his neck. 

Remy was exhausted, holding Mila’s hair back as she puked into the trashcan for the second time that night. He could only imagine how tired she was. She had run out of energy to run back and forth to the bathroom after the third trip. 

Mila hiccupped and whined, water and bile trickling into the bin hugged to her chest. 

“This is hell.” She complained, “Can you hand me some water?”

Remy reached around her and grabbed the water bottle off of the nightstand, opening it before handing it to her. She took a couple sips before burping over the trashcan. 

“You’re doing great, Love. You’re a trooper.”

“If I keep puking I’m going to scream”

“As long as you keep drinking water I think we can avoid a trip to the doctor. I just don’t want you getting as dehydrated as Jules… your fever seems to be sitting around 100.3.”

Mila took a couple more sips of water and hovered over the bin for a couple more minutes before she sat it on the floor and laid back down with a sigh.

“I’m going to apologize ahead of time for when you catch this.” She said, staring at the ceiling.

“I’ll live, just like you will. Nothing could keep me from holding back your hair while you’re puking your pretty little guts up.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Mila rolled over, laying her head on Remy’s chest. 

“I’m serious.” He ran his fingers up and down her arm, “nothing in the world could keep me from staying up all night taking care of my vomiting girlfriend.”

“You’re ridiculous… I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Remy pressed a kiss into her hair, “Get some rest, Love.”

[icyporcelain]

　　　　　　hello everyone，unfortunately i’m going to have to put requests on hold for a bit since i am extremely extremely ill at the moment and need some time to recover，and coming back to a ton of requests is daunting！　don’t worry if you’ve already sent in a request，any requests that i’ve received before this post are fine．though it might be a bit until i get to them，my sincerest apologies．． ^_^； in the meantime，feel free to promo on this post if you have your requests open and can take some on！　there’s a bunch of talented editors who follow me，so you should definitely check them out in my absence！　okay thank you all，see you when i get better (p_-)

[felinisnoctis]

Chaos Prime: The trio reaches Terra

Thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for Hura (and a lot of dialogue help) and @sleepyfan-blog for Cedric.

Other tags: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams

Content warning: injury, blood, attempted kidnapping

Mic woke up face-down in the mud with his mechadendrites forming a protective coat over him. He was pretty sure he was leaking oil into the dirt and his mechadendrites twitched uncomfortably. It felt like several of them were probably broken in a few places. It felt like his hip had shorted out as well, and he couldn’t move his remaining flesh arm. Where exactly was he? He’d been in the warp, and something had come through the hull of the ship, so he’d attacked it. Not very successfully he had to admit.

Nearby someone nuzzled his neck to check for breathing, fangs brushing against him. He swiveled one of the still-working mechadendrites to take a look before using it to shove at the individual on top of him. “Batsy, move.” he managed to send out, his voice crackling from internal damage. Batsy pushed up off of him, wings propelling him up to just above the ground.

“You two are still alive? Good. Let’s get going. I can smell someone else nearby” Felix, the third member, appeared from behind a tree. Mic groaned and tried to get up but couldn’t. “Boss, I can’t.” Felix looked over the grounded tech-priest with a frown, poking him with an armored boot. “You sure you’re not just being lazy?”

Mic yelped as the boot touched his hip. “Yes I’m sure, and there’s a rock under me and it hurts. I’d get up if I could.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go find something for you. Try not to get killed in the meantime.”

“I’ll leave Filth here behind to guard you.” As Batsy chimed in, a bloated, mangy rat with various patches of some sort of mold hopped down from his shoulder and perched on the fallen tech-marine.

“Thanks, I think.” Mic grumbled into the earth.

Meanwhile Cedric was out picking mushrooms - Hura had been showing him which ones were good to eat - when he heard ceramite boots behind him. Turning to look, he saw a strange marine in defaced blue and gold armor. Cedric suppressed his instinctive growl and instead turned to greet the stranger. “Greetings, I am Apothecary Cedric. What are…”

Any further words got cut off as the stranger interrupted him. “Apothecary? Good, you’re coming with me.” Immediately as he finished speaking he rushed Cedric, who mentally cursed his lack of armor as he dove out of the way. “HEY! LET GO!” He reached around for anything he could use as a weapon, grabbing a nearby large stick and breaking it across the helmet his attacker. Which didn’t do a whole lot but did stun him for a fraction of a second.

A second figure swooped into the clearing. Batsy had chosen to fly behind Cedric, trying to grab at him from the air. As he dodged the first marine recovered his senses and reached out a foot, tripping Cedric down onto the muddy ground. Both of the chaos primaris descended on top of him, attempting to pick him up and pin him at the same time.

“Please put the apothecary down and tell me just what is going on here” suddenly a massive death guard loomed over the scrap, frowning at the two chaos marines attempting to drag Cedric off. Felix stood up, brushed himself off, and attempted to look Hura in the eye.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was your pet. We have an injured brother that needs attention.”

"He is not a pet," Hura said with a deepening frown, at the same time as Cedric snarled “I am not someone’s pet!” from his current position in the mud. The death guard looked him over long enough to determine that he was not in need of medical attention before turning back to the others. "If you are in need of aid, ask for it."

Batsy stood up slowly. Fully upright he was huge, with wings of multicolored skin spreading out behind him as he tried to balance on his injured leg. He would probably have looked menacing if not for the utter confusion radiating from his tilted helmet. “Aw but I wanted to taste him. He looks like he’d taste sort of tart, like those drinks with the fruit flavor.”

“Batsy, please shut up.” Felix snapped at his bat-winged companion.

“But I’m hungry!!! And I can smell his blood from here.” Batsy whined back.

“We need to get Mic patched up. And you.” Felix tendered in reply.

"Touch me without permission and I'll kill you," Cedric snaps at the trio of Chaos Traitors, not stopping the low growl that was emanating from his chest as he stood up and brushed clumps of muddy grass from his uniform. Batsy flashed the pair of long fangs that had grown through his helmet at the templar. Cedric squints up at him, "Chaos twisted you a lot, then again, Nurglite Chaos Marines tend to be... large and gr-greenish in color." He bit back what he was about to say, glancing over at Hura.

“Please refrain from biting the loyalist, he might die from the infection. We’ll find you some appropriate food once everyone’s been tended to,” Hura reassured the giant bat-astartes, not making any visible response to Cedric’s near slip.

The pair headed off in the direction Felix and Batsy indicated, Cedric trailing unhappily behind the death guard. As the got to the clearing the plague rat sitting on Mic’s back chirped out a greeting. Hura looked at it intensely for a moment. “Well hello there little one. Is this my patient?” The rat moved chirped again in assent.

“I call him Filth. He has a real name but I’m not supposed to tell anyone. He said I shouldn’t use my real name either.” Batsy explained to the group, not noticing the death glare coming from Cedric. The rat gave a friendly little squeek as Hura scooped it up in one hand. “Oh! You can call me Batsy. The one in the blue is Felix and this one on the ground is Mic. Mic can’t really stand up right now. Do you know where we are? We were in the warp and then something went wrong and now we’re here and this doesn’t look like the warp at all.”

Both Cedric and Hura were thinking about how to best report the knowledge of a daemon on Holy Terra itself. Cedric was additionally considering whether he could requisition a flamer from one of the Salamanders. Daemons were’t really his purview, that was usually for the Grey…nope, not going there, not even in his mind.

“Apothecary Hura. Cedric, if you could see to Batsy’s leg while I patch up Mic here and explain a few things to the group?” Cedric opened his mouth to protest, realized he was outnumbered and unlikely to survive a confrontation, and closed it again, while Hura gave a by now rehearsed speech informing the new arrivals about their current location and the behavioral expectations.

None of the three chaos marines commented much about being on Holy Terra. Felix did, however, struggle with some of the other information. “I still don’t understand how this isn’t your pet, but you don’t want us to take him. Is there a finder’s fee we should be paying first or something?” Cedric growled at the former ultramarine in response. He’d probably bound the bandages on his patient too tightly, but it was hard for him to care.

“You know, it’s a good thing I was nearby when you found him, and not one of the others,” Hura tells the Chaos trio, "or that Roland and Arnault weren't closer. The Emperor’s Champion might have just decided to kill you. Despite the treaty. As would several others, if Apothecary Cedric were to go missing." Hura paused for a moment to let all the implications sink in. “Perhaps this would be a better discussion to continue at the chaos base. I can escort them there while you take your foraging back to your brothers.”

It was only after Hura left with the three chaos marines that Cedric realized the exact implications of what his exam had found. Mutated as they were, the underlying anatomy was that of a primaris marine. Traitor Primaris. Something he had been assured repeatedly was not possible because the new marines could not turn traitor.

ADDENDUM: MY NOTES ON FAMILIARS

So if anyone doesn’t mind spoilers, yes the little rat is a daemon. My idea for this is that familiars that are already bound to a suitable space marine may be brought back to earth with them. However the power of such a familiar are severely curtailed, making them generally little more than an unusually intelligent beast. They are also unable to stray too far from their bound marine without experiencing distress and eventually weakening and dying.

Basically, little Filth here is for all practical purposes, a very smart rat. He can’t manifest powers on Terra and it probably wouldn’t be possible to actually summon a daemon in this AU. It might be possible for Batsy to use him as a focus for minor powers. But mostly he’s cute in his own disgusting way.

[donationwayne]

here's my confession (I'm kind of hooked on you) CHAPTER FOUR

Pairing: Buddie || 24.7k/109k || Chapter 4/19 ||

CHAPTER FOUR OF MY FIC FOR @118bigbang ! !!!!!

THE RETURN OF DILF EDDIE

This week: buck cooks for eddie, buck and eddie gossip, buck meets up witht he 118

Summary:

Buck is forced to go on a temporary medical leave after getting crushed by a flight of stairs. In the meantime, he works at dispatch while he recovers. One evening after work, Buck hooks up with a mysterious, hot, family oriented DILF. The following morning he’s mortified and a little love sick after discovering said hook-up aka Eddie Diaz is the newest (temporary) firefighter liaison--poached from a house in El Paso, Texas. Buck navigates becoming best friends and eventually work partners with his ex-hookup. In the meantime, he desperately tries not to fall in love. He fails.

Cue: An adorable five year old, prank wars, gay offs, break room gossip, a fake dating plot, firefighting shenanigans, a packed summer of PTA responsibilities, karaoke, and copious amounts of cupcakes and thai food

OR

tldr: the hot dilf from the bar is my new work partner

_________

SNIP

Eddie joins Buck, who already has their meals on the table—potato and zucchini curry over rice. Eddie melts into the chair beside him, taking a long inhale of curry like it was a cigarette. “You’ve really got to teach me how to do this sometime.”

“Over my dead body. What use would you have for me if you learned how to cook?” Buck teases, “Besides, I doubt Chris would enjoy your learning phase of cooking. It sounds like you char even water.”

“Screw you Buckley,” Eddie replies with a light grin. “So, what’s going on out there today?”

It's a new part of his and Eddie's lunchtime routine, ever since the new dispatch trainees started, the pair has begun watching out the windows of the break room as though it were a large scale television. There was plenty of drama going on around the room between phone calls, especially on days that could be considered slow. Buck has made a flow chart of who dislikes who, who was friends, and clashing personalities that rarely interact. He and Eddie have spent the last few weeks stirring the pot in the office to Sue’s chagrin. She humored them with gentle amusement, as long as it wasn’t interrupting work or causing major issues.

“What do you think Sharon is thinking about?” Eddie asks as he spoons some curry into his mouth. He glances at Buck, who is expertly using chopsticks. “How do you use those? One time I went out with my sisters to some sushi joint when I was back in Texas, they all got chopsticks, and I was the only one who didn’t know how to use them. Our waiter rigged a pair with a rubber band and gave them to me, kid style. Chris still laughs about it to this day, I’m pretty sure that was, as that baby dispatcher over there calls it, a core memory.”

Buck nearly laughs coffee through his nose. “I love when you use terminology you don’t really understand that the baby dispatchers teach you, and it's even better when you use it correctly. You’re going to make Chris’ life a living hell when he grows up.”

“That’s exactly what I’m aiming for. There is nothing I love in life more than being the cringe dad. It's a well earned title.”

“Also, as for Sharon, she’s definitely thinking about last night's episode of the Bachelor, we talked about it for the full length of our first break.”

“Is that what you do on calls? Think about The Bachelor while you’re supposed to be saving lives?”

“That’s exactly it, Eddie. I’m confused, I thought I was hired to think about The Bachelor all day, I’m pretty sure it was in my contract.” Eddie rolls his eyes, scooping a large piece of potato. “And actually right now I’m pretty getting into this procedural show, my friend Chim rolled his eyes when I told him I hadn't seen it. I didn’t really watch television growing up, so it's all sort of new to me, and I’m playing catch-up, shoving all this pop culture into my free time.”

“I’m not a big TV buff, but I think I can quote Finding Nemo to you, if that means anything at all. I’m well versed in animated children's movies.”

“Delightful, someday I will come over and we will watch Tangled, and I will force you to sing every word because it is one of the greatest children's musical movies, in my opinion. It's also one of like five children's movies I actually saw growing up.”

“Whenever you talk about your parents, it gives me whiplash. Half the time I think you despise your parents, and the other half of the time you dote on them,” Eddie points out curiously.

Buck opens and closes his mouth a few times. “My real parents live in Pennsylvania, I have no relationship with them. I’ve lowkey been adopted by a different set of adults, and I call them my parents, even though they’re not really my parents. I realize why that’s confusing,” Buck admits sheepishly. “I’ve also never called them my parents to their faces before.” Buck blushes, “But I really do think of them as the closest thing to real parents that I have. I’m 'no contact' with my family.”