#Feel free to reply or not if ya like <333

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter fifteen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | male masterbation, Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, canon typical violence, mentions of death | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 you punish Coryo in your own way and Coriolanus figures out a solution for the snake problem :D

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 hope you guys like this!! <333 please remember to give your feedback, this was supposed to be longer but i decided that what i have planned will be better for the next chapter!

Beta read by the stunning ✨ @nowitsmissing ✨

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The rest of the gala went incredibly well. Being introduced as your partner made the others look at him with newfound respect. He truly had underestimated your value and felt guilty for it. He spent the rest of the night being paraded but it all ended well since even the men who weren't as interested in him before seemed intrigued.

All is well when the end is well.

The night ends with a kiss in front of the cameras. That had sealed the deal. You had truly forgiven him for his mishap now, or so he thought. In the car ride back home you hadn't looked at him. Even if he tried to make conversation with you; you replied with one-word answers.

Coriolanus looks away from you, giving his attention to the Capitol streets instead. It was very boring. He hated it. So he begins to ramble, not caring a bit that you weren't giving him attention. You were forced to listen. He begins from the top, talking about Clemmie and Festus and how they helped him. Coryo adds about Dr. Gaul. Her interactions with him.

He smirks when he sees the angry twitch of your fingers. He begins to talk about some other elite. Some opinions of awe and a few judgemental (even though he had no right to judge).

“God, you can't shut up, can you?” You groan, turning to him. Your hands pull at his suit, bringing him closer to you. You kissed him, but it was more like a sudden clash of teeth. Coriolanus didn't mind, he moaned into the kiss. His hands fisted so they didn't venture on places it shouldn't. He didn't want to make you more mad.

You suck his lower lip. The kiss was messy and sloppy. But it felt so good that Coriolanus refused to separate. He loves how good posca tasted on your tongue. He whined at the taste, feeling drunk by it. “You're mine,” he murmured against your lips.

He doesn't see you rolling your eyes. You replied, “Shut up.” And pulled him into another bruising kiss. Your hand was in his curls, and he groaned into your mouth as you pulled the blonde strands hard. “Dove-” he whines.

It didn't matter to you he felt overwhelmed.

You continued pressing him kisses until he was breathing hard and unable to kiss back properly. His brain was mush, his cock hard and because of the darkness of his pants, the pre-cum stain wasn't visible. You finally lean back satisfied when all he can do is whine pitifully. His lips were swollen, and sensitive. His eyes were closed and he couldn't speak. He wanted to beg for another kiss.

He didn't because he relaxed in his seat, unable to make eye contact with you because of the mess you made of him. You weren't going to play with him any further and he knew that. This was a punishment. His hard cock straining against his pants, wanting to cum was proof of it.

This was his own doing.

“I am sorry,” he whines, his hand pressing on his bulge.

“You're forgiven,” you sweetly lie as if you wouldn't repeat this punishment if he messed up again.

“Here ya go, safe and sound. Good night, Coryo. Sweet dreams,” your eyes drop to his bulge and you smile, “hopefully of me, pretty boy.”

He gets out of the car. Coriolanus stomps the ground, childish he knows but what else could he do? He even lets out a few curses, trying to ignore the ache of his cock. He barely talks to Tigris when he enters home. He tells her thank you for the clothes before he locks himself shut in his room.

He muffled his groan with his free hand, the other hand freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. He begins to stroke his length, dry and fast. Not caring that it's a bit painful. He needed to cum. He whimpers and whines, his eyes watering. Fuck, it burned. He spits in his hand, using it as lube. He lets out a satisfying moan before biting his lower lip. He tasted blood but didn't care.

Realizing nobody had listened to the noise, he kept going until finally, his dick shoots out ropes of white cum. He sighs, wiping his lip clean of the blood. Blinking away tears of relief. You turned him into such a mess. Only you could do that. He now realized he could never make the same mistake he did today.

He was yours.

And now everyone in the Capitol with a TV knows it. He takes off the suit and showers. He changed into his pajamas and led himself to bed.

When he dreams, it's of course about you.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Snow's in the auditorium, the morning starting slow. Something had happened, and he received multiple condolences. Felix Ravinstill was dead, it was a public announcement that happened earlier when he still hadn't come to the auditorium. The reaper kid had torn off the flag and used it to cover dead bodies. A gesture with a great impact. The impact was ruined because of what the rebels had previously done and Dr. Gaul took advantage of it.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes as he sees the highlight footage of it. He has to admire the way Dr. Gaul used his classmate's death in this manner. She made it seem like it had much more importance than the death of the tributes. When it was all just the same. Coryo lets this thought wander in his mind.

His attention to the screens snaps back when he sees Coral’s pack gathering all of the remaining water bottles in a circle. Snow realized if anything was distracting the pack, it would be a perfect opportunity for Lucy Gray to secretly poison the water. He hoped Lucy Gray was smart enough to realize this too.

He encourages (tricks) several of his classmates to send food, telling them their tributes are smart enough not to get hurt. When brought up about Jessup, he refuted that the boy was sick anyway. A few mentors who felt pity for their tributes didn't need much convincing. They send several drones of water and food distracting the tributes away from the vent Lucy Gray was hiding in.

Lucy Gray takes the hint! She slips out of her vent, she's careful as she drugs the water and the surrounding food. It was barely seen by the camera. If viewed by the naked eye, it would look like she was eating the food. Coriolanus smirks, though the feeling of triumph is short-lived.

He soon thought of a line that Dr. Gaul had said during the broadcast. The enemies will be seeing a rainbow of destruction. The snakes! Dr. Gaul will be releasing the snakes into the arena. Fuck! He has to do something soon! He knew that the snakes don't react to familiar scents and he had a handkerchief stained with Lucy Gray's tears.

It has to work.

Coriolanus thought of an insane plan but there's no other way. He needs to do it if he wants Lucy Gray to win. He goes on his way to meet Dr. Gaul. The stitches in his back weren't healed yet, and Coryo pulled at them. He can feel the wound bleeding again and winces in pain.

Snow enters the lab. The snake cage in sight made him swallow in nervousness. “Mr. Snow,” Dr. Gaul acknowledged. “Came to beg for her life?” It took him a moment of panic to realize that Gaul meant the poor songbird and not you.

“The stitches pulled, I didn't go to the hospital because I didn't want them to ask questions,” Coriolanus said, praying that the excuse made sense.

“You did the right thing,” Dr. Gaul approved.

Coriolanus sat down, taking off his uniform to reveal his bleeding wounds. He could see birds in a cage and wondered in awe (and horror) about what experiment they went through. With a closer look, he noticed what they were.

Dr. Gaul confirms his suspicions.

“Jabberjays.”

“Made for the war to pick up rebel conversations and squawk it back to us word by word,” she adds, her hand picking up a remote. “Failed experiment but an instructive one.”

Dr. Gaul describes her plan for them. “I am rounding them up district by district now to see what better purposes they might serve.” Coryo paid mild attention as he saw people preparing to carry out the snake cage outside. Dr. Gaul clicks the button of the remote and the jabberjays repeat everything word by word. Perfectly. Coriolanus was a bit impressed.

“They're all done,” Dr. Gaul said. His stitches were stitched back together. He grunts softly in pain. He eyes the cage that the staff takes away. He takes his time wearing his shirt, he doesn't want to seem eager to get away. He couldn't afford suspicion.

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.”

He walks out of the lab with shaky legs before breaking into a sprint trying to locate the cage. Thankfully he finds the cage, ready to be taken to the arena. He didn't see anyone in sight. He took the handkerchief and found a gap to push it inside. The scent of Lucy Gray will not be unfamiliar to the snakes.

Therefore if she dies, it won't be by them.

NEXT PART

[angelicblondie]

hiii! i loved your fic about lazy days with luke? could you write one for rafe?

hi angel! yes ofcccc! glad you liked it <333 (MDNI)

rafe rarely got days off, which made lazy days hard to come by. but when he did, they were your favorite of days.

there was something so perfect about simply waking up with nothing to do. whilst on most days you were waken by rafes blaring alarm (you told him to change it to anything but the radar noise, but he refused, saying it was the "most effective"), today you got to wake up on your own time. rafe was still asleep, most likely exhausted from his latest work trip, so you let him sleep a bit longer, getting up to fetch him some coffee.

by the time you got back he had migrated to your side of the bed with a subconscious frown, as if he had noticed you were gone and was searching for you. you bite your lip to hold back a smile and place the mug on the end table, crawling up next to him and brushing some hair out of his face. he groaned, scrunching his eyes up as you giggle softly.

"mornin' rafey," you whisper groggily, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. his eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight above him. "mornin'," he replied, looking to the clock for the time.

you cuddle back up into him, handing him his coffee and he sits up to sip it. you decide to just lay in his lap, playing with his free hand and cracking his knuckles. the silence that surrounds the two of you is comfortable, and you quietly hum underneath your breath, looking up at rafe every now and then to admire his early morning glory.

you two spend most of the morning in bed, cuddling and kissing, talking in quiet and gentle voices, as if you two weren't trying to disturb the peace.

you eventually get up to shower, the warm water trailing down your skin as rafe lathers body wash all over you, taking a moment to raunchily fondle your tits and ass, to which you giggle and shove him off, scolding him lightheartedly.

you then washed him, becoming shy when reaching his lower stomach, looking up at him with a shy smile and fluttering lashes. rafe looks down at you knowingly, his lips quirking up and lust clouding his eyes.

" y'askin' for permission?" he cocks his head, bringing his hand to smoothen out your wet hair.

you bite you lip timidly and nod, eagerly waiting for his verdict. he waits a moment, before nodding. "aight, go for it".

you get down on your knees, looking up at him through you lashes as your hands move to wrap around his base, and your lips shyly kiss his tip, not breaking eye contact for a second. rafe groan, before letting out a breathy chuckle. "nah, nah, fuck this. j'need to be in ya," he states as he pulls you up. "sound good, princess?"

you nod eagerly, very pleased with where this was headed. "mhm"

rafe lifts you up, allowing your to wrap you legs around his his waist as he pressed you against the shower wall, placing sloppy kisses on the wet skin of your necks as you whimper pathetically, your noises echoing against the close walls.

rafe aligns himself with your entrance and slides himself in, making sure to look in your eyes as he does so.

eye contact was a really big thing for rafe - there was something so intimate about it that you loved, as well. it was really hot for the both of you, and it got you going each and every time.

rafe rythmically moved himself in and out of you as you threw your head back against the cold shower wall and whined, babbling and begging incoherently.

your nails scratched downs his back as he pounded himself into you, muttering dirty things against your lips, only bringing you closer to your climax.

"yeah? feels good, huh?"

"y'close? is that what your sayin'?"

you would reply, but your words were rushed and blended all together, coming across inaudible. rafe would tease and mock you in reply, saying something like, "s'that so?" or, "oh yeah? tell me more baby".

it didn't take too long for the both of you to cum, not once looking away from each others eyes. rafe hips spluttered against your, and he let out a low, guttural groan, fucking the last of his cum deep inside of you. your head is throw back again, as you close your eyes to catch your breath. rafe grabs your hips to lift you back to the ground, and and cups your face as you smile tiredly up at him.

"gimme a kiss," rafe mutters through a soft smile, guiding you face close to his as you gift him a soft yet steamy kiss.

rafe cleaned the both of you up, and you finished in the shower, drying yourselfs off before simply jump back in bed naked, to enjoy the rest of your day off.

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you decide to surprise harvey with a belated birthday gift; harvey tries to fight off some unwelcome thoughts. warnings -> none! harvey just has some horny thoughts. wc -> 3357

a/n: surprise, an update!!

i loved writing this chapter. i actually feel like this song could have fit well as this story's title as well!! very excited for the upcoming chapters, though i am a little sad to think this will eventually have to end </3

well, either way, hope you enjoy ! <333 seeing y'all comment and stuff honestly is so heartwarming, so thank you all!!!

ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12

paper rings masterlist

chapter eleven: state of grace -> "this is the golden age of something good and right and real."

Your eyes opened to the warmth of sunlight flowing through your window, a relaxed breath escaping you. A pleasant smile settled on your face as you sat up, rubbing your eyes and remembering the words Harvey had confessed to you the previous night.

I love you.

For a split second, you wondered if you dreamt it all, if it’d all been too good to be true.

Then, you saw that the bouquet was still missing from its usual spot on your wall, and you knew it had all been real.

You grinned, sitting up with a renewed energy. Finally, you were able to wrench out the phrase you craved to hear from your best friend. Despite the efforts — and pain — it took to get there, you still managed to do it, which, in your eyes, was all that really mattered. 

You recalled the insecurities Harvey had spilled to you; more so, how he felt he didn’t deserve you. Out of everything that happened, those words hurt by far the most. You saw the torn, broken look in his eyes, knowing him well enough to see past it and realize his wounds weren’t fresh. You didn’t even want to know how long his horrid thoughts had stewed in his head. Probably way too long. What a terrible way to spend his birthday.

Then, an idea struck you — one that you knew would take the majority of the day and your best efforts, but you felt in your heart it would all be worth it to see his face light up. Besides, Harvey had never hesitated in the past to put you at the top of his list of priorities.

You figured it was time to give back.

-

“Forgive me.”

“Elliott, please—”

“I know,” the overly dramatic poet choked out, grasping Harvey’s hand with both of his as if his life depended on it. “It’s terrible of me to ask you this, I know, but please, forgive me for the trouble I caused, my friend. I just . . .” Elliott looked up at the doctor, his bottom lip trembling and eyes filled with guilt. “I just couldn’t stand the feeling of lying to Leah, and I knew she had no ill intentions, either, but— oh, I know it’s no excuse for what I did!” 

After his birthday, Harvey decided it was finally time to reconnect with his two supportive friends, shooting them both quick texts to meet him at the Stardrop the following evening. He roughly explained everything that happened with you, not forgetting to mention the stinging silence he initially left you with. Elliott’s face dropped when he got to the part where you told him you knew about everything, how Leah had taken the big step to be the one to tell you. Fortunately, his friends were as understanding as ever, more happy than anything that he got the chance to reconcile with you. 

Unfortunately, Elliott decided the guilt weighing on his shoulders could only be lifted by apologizing for nearly twenty minutes straight.

“And here I thought my life couldn’t get any worse,” Shane gruffed, only half joking. He proceeded to roll his eyes so hard Harvey worried he would hurt himself. “Fuckin’ hell, just forgive him already, would ya, doc? I can’t stand this anymore.” 

Harvey scratched the back of his neck before placing his free hand on Elliott’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s fine, Elliott, I promise,” he replied, unable to keep the amusement out of his tone. “It’s my fault for not telling her, after all. Besides, it all worked out, anyhow.”

“A-are you certain?” He leaned forward, nearly toppling over his seat onto the Stardrop’s floor. “How can you be so kind? It’s truly inspiring, doctor, you must let me buy you a meal for your generosity!”

“With what money, pal?”

Elliott fell back into his seat with a huff, managing a glare at his friend before sipping his drink. “With the money I made from selling my first novel, thank you oh-so very much.”

Harvey blinked in surprise, while Shane gawked at him. “Are you being serious?”

Elliott’s chest puffed up in pride. “Completely. Of course, my first patron was Leah, but I’m planning on having a live book reading at the library soon!” Harvey smiled warmly at the sight of his friend’s joyful expression, proud to see his hard work come to fruition.

Then, Shane frowned slightly and shifted in his seat. “What, so you didn’t even bother to ask me for one? C’mon, the least you could do after buggin’ me about this damn book for nearly a year is offer me a copy. Geez.” 

A pause. “You . . . actually want one?”

“Yeah, yeah, save the sap, it’ll make me barf.” He paused. “It’s kid-friendly, right? I’ll get two, give one to Jas. Maybe one for Vincent, too, fuck it.”

Harvey could only laugh as he watched Elliott pull Shane into an unreciprocated hug, his eyes gleaming with grateful tears and he tightly wrapped his arms around him. Despite his loud, profanity-filled protests, there was a light in Shane’s gaze that hadn’t been there a couple seasons ago. After promising to see the therapist Harvey recommended to him, he’d slowly begun to make progress, even deciding to replace his usual beer at the saloon with a glass of pop instead. 

“Alright, enough!” Shane finally regained his stance in his seat, running a hand through his ruffled hair. He mumbled something neither of them could hear, but Elliott beamed nonetheless.

“I hope you’ll save me one, Elliott,” Harvey said sincerely. “Though, by the looks of it, you might have quite the fan already.”

“Shut it, doc.” 

Elliott let out a hearty laugh and gestured to Emily for an order. “Well then, my dear doctor, you must emphasize on your reunion with your lover,” he pressed on, looking at him eagerly, “but not before I order you a promised meal.”

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Emily asked as she wandered over, looking at the three with a bright smile. Her gaze stopped at Harvey. “Hey, what a nice surprise! I haven’t seen you here in a bit. I hope you’re doing alright, people have been saying they haven’t seen much of you lately.”

He cleared his throat, nodding. “There were a few . . . things, I had to deal with, but it’s all cleared up now.”

She hummed, but something about her look was a little too knowing. “Well, that’s all that matters, right? As long as you’re okay.” She leaned in a little then, close enough so she could whisper in his ear. “Haley’s just about ready to murder you, though. Thought I should give you a heads up.”

She smiled sympathetically when Harvey groaned, covering his face with his hands. He didn’t even bother to hear what Elliott ordered him and focused on the fact that one of your closest friends in town was probably plotting his murder.

“Everyone knows, don’t they?” he asked, voice muffled. He lowered his hands to see Shane hiding his smirk with his drink while Elliott sighed.

“I wish I could tell you otherwise, but yes,” the writer responded promptly. “I wouldn’t fear too much, though, especially if the two of you are on good terms! I’m sure she’ll clear the air.”

The door to the saloon opened, and — as if your mentioning had summoned you — you walked in wearing your work clothes, dirt and grass stains covering the front of your overalls. Your eyes met his immediately, and Harvey instantly looked away, feeling as if he had just seen his crush in the hallway. You tended to have that effect on him.

After the two of you shared a kiss the night before, he insisted on walking you home, tightly holding your hand the entire way. He was visibly reluctant to leave your side, allowing himself to, for once, be as clingy as he felt. When the two of you reached your front porch, he’d grabbed your hips and drew you closer to his body, looking at you with nothing but pure adoration.

“We have a long way to go, don’t we?” he asked softly, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek. 

You hummed in agreement, turning slightly to kiss his palm. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, right?” Your eyes seemed to glitter when he looked at you, his breath faltering.

Harvey didn’t know why your words made him feel the way he did — then again, he couldn’t explain a lot of things he felt when it came to you — but in that moment, a wave of gratefulness washed over him, and he couldn’t help but pull you in for another gentle kiss. He thought back to what you had told him all those years ago, how he had good karma, and he decided you might have been right after all. There was no other explanation as to why you were still in his arms after all the trouble he caused.

“You truly are my weakness,” he blurted suddenly. “My vulnerability, the crack in my defense. I think I would do anything for you.”

You laughed at his words, and the sound made his heart race. “You’ve been hanging out with Elliott too much.” You paused then, leaning in closer to his ear. “Is that a promise, Harvs? Anything?”

He shivered, swallowing hard. “Of course.”

Just when he thought he’d earned another taste of your lips — a rougher one maybe, one that led to your bedroom — you pulled away, sporting a mischievous half-smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chirped happily. “Goodnight!”

Harvey let out another groan at the thought, trying to ignore the stir in his pants. We’ll take it slow, he reminded himself, not even noticing your figure appearing beside him. We have all the time in the world.

“Earth to Harvey, hello?” you sang, waving a hand in front of his face. “You there? Or is nobody home?”

He scowled as his friends stifled their laughter, though managed a smile when he turned to greet you. “Hello,” he sighed, pushing his glasses up. “Ignore them, please. I’m not sure why I associate with them.” 

“Hey, a ‘thank you’ would be nice, buddy,” Shane said, voice dripping in leftover humor. “We’re the ones who’ve listened to all your little love-sick rants.”

You perked a brow. “Love-sick, huh?”

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” Harvey desperately suggested, taking out his wallet and throwing some coins on the table for his drinks. “I’ll talk to you two later. And, thank you,” he rushedly added. As he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you out of the saloon, he missed their lopsided grins at his words.

Harvey let out a long breath as he stepped outside, resting his hands on his hips. “I felt like I was suffocating in there,” he admitted, finding your hand once again.

You snorted. “Looked like it,” you replied, lacing your fingers with his. “I was looking for you, anyway. Did you get my text?” 

He blinked, grabbing his phone out of his pocket with his other hand to find one unread message from you.

Y/N : you at the saloon? i’ve got a surprise for you

“A surprise?” he wondered aloud. “For me?”

“Yes, Harvey, that’s what I said.” You smiled at his embarrassed frown, leading him through the plaza toward the clinic. “C’mon, I’ve been working on it all day!”

Just as he was about to question you further, a figure with long blonde hair and a blue tank top marched in front of him, successfully cutting off his hold on you.

“Don’t think I’ll forgive you as easily,” Haley snapped, and Harvey flinched at her furious tone. “You’re a real lucky guy, you know that, right? ‘Cause if I were her, I would have taken those glasses and shoved ‘em right up your—”

“Haley! There you are,” Leah laughed awkwardly as she grabbed the blonde’s arm, attempting to tug her away. “We’re going to miss the movie, dear. Let’s go.” She turned to Harvey, and he was glad to be met with much kinder eyes. “I’m glad you’re alright, Harvey. We’ll see you around.” Leah’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and happy birthday! Even though it’s a day late.”

“Thank you,” he responded, anxiously glancing at Haley. A pout rested on her lips as her partner nudged her.

“Yeah, whatever, happy birthday, I guess,” she mumbled, and you laughed at her reaction. Her expression lightened after that, the ends of her mouth lifting slightly. “I expect a call later, okay?”

“Will do.” You waved at the couple as they walked away, grabbing Harvey’s arm and continuing to lead him. “She’s pretty mad, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Really?” he asked dryly, fiddling with his tie. “I thought she seemed quite happy to see me.” You rolled your eyes, excitedly bringing him up the stairs to the fountain. “What is it, exactly?”

“What’s, what?”

“The surprise.”

You huffed, walking past the fountain. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?” 

“I . . . suppose not, no.”

“Then be patient, we’re almost there.”

You only stopped when the two of you reached the Community Center, two birds chirping curiously down at your arrival. Harvey examined the building, noticing how, despite it looking as beat up as it usually did, it felt more welcoming.

Before he could continue, you swiftly snatched his glasses off his face, covering his eyes with your hands.

“What—”

“Just go with it, Harvs, please? ”

The pleading tone of your request nearly sent him spiraling. Nearly.

Take it slow.

He nodded, swallowing thickly once again. You’re going to be the death of me, he thought. He almost voiced it to you the door opened, but was interrupted before he got the chance.

“I felt a little bad yesterday night,” you admitted, leading him somewhere unknown. “With everything going on between us, it was hard to plan something for your birthday.”

He sighed, a pang of guilt running through his chest. “Now, you know none of that is—”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “It’s over now, and we’re . . . good. Better than good, I think.” Harvey smiled, wishing he could see your face. “And, even though it’s not really your birthday anymore, I still wanted to give you something better than a dried bouquet.”

“That bouquet means much more to me than you think. It’s all I need, really,” he said softly, then willed himself to say his next words. “You’re all I need.”

“And you’re being a big ‘ol softie.”

Suddenly, he felt your hands drop, slowly blinking his eyes open. Of course, at first, all he could make out were blurbs of green and white.

“Um—” Although he couldn’t see, Harvey could practically hear you roll your eyes as you passed him his glasses.

“Surprise.”

He couldn’t believe it.

In front of him was a completely refurbished room in the Community Center, the walls smooth and the flooring void of any faults. That, in itself, was impressive to him. 

The room wasn’t exactly what caught his eye, though.

No, what caught Harvey’s attention was the various model planes scattered across the room, along with the small workbench in the corner.

“I had to go into the city to find those, it took me all day,” you explained, trying to read his reaction. His mouth remained parted as he walked around, taking his time to take in everything. “This is meant to be the Crafts Room. Mayor Lewis asked me to fix this place up a while ago, and that’s where I met the Junimos. Thought I’d add my own touch, though.” 

Harvey nodded absentmindedly. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Quite frankly, he was in shock, unable to believe what you had done for him. His gaze only pried away when a familiar squeak sounded beneath him. He smiled as Blueberry hugged his foot. 

The spirit looked at him expectedly, as if asking, Do you like it? 

“It’s—” He stopped then, finally turning to face you. Warm tears filled Harvey’s eyes as he stepped forward and engulfed you in his arms, burying your face in his neck. “It’s more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you.”

He felt you slump in relief, gladly wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad you like it,” you breathed, pulling back to see his face. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought it was too much.”

“No, this is perfect.” Harvey laughed, bright and unlike he’d ever laughed before, and kissed you. “I can’t even find the words to explain how I feel.”

You grinned. “Maybe ‘happy’ could give you a good start.”

“No, that’s too big of an understatement.”

“Hm. ‘Joyous,’ then?”

“I believe those are synonyms, honey.”

You blinked, a blush creeping up your neck. Harvey didn’t notice, too busy walking over to the desk that seemed made for him. Blueberry poked your ankle, and you took it as a sign to stick out your hand. The Junimo happily walked up your arm, settling down on your shoulder and closing its eyes. 

“This . . . this looks just like the one I had in my grandparents’ house as a kid,” he realized, eyes widening.

“You used to spend so much time sitting there, working on your planes, ignoring me,” you added playfully. “If you ever get bored, you can come here, now. Add to your collection. You can show them off to everyone, too, after I finish rebuilding everything.”

He flushed at that, turning to meet your eyes. “No, I couldn’t, i-it’s too embarrassing—”

“Harvey. If this —” You swept your arm around the room. “—is what you enjoy, you shouldn’t hide it. It’s an important part of you, and I know everyone in town would be impressed.” You gently tugged at his hand, holding it strongly in your own. “Plus, I find it very endearing, you know.”

He raised a brow, grabbing your other hand. “Really? Building model airplanes is something you look for in a partner?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Harvey shook his head, tilting it as he studied your gaze. “This is still so surreal,” he muttered, glancing down at your interlaced fingers. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

You nodded, then smiled. “You know, I never would have guessed this.” You lifted your hands slightly, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Now that it’s real, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever let you go.”

Harvey’s heart was just about ready to leap from his chest.

“You won’t ever have to,” he vowed. “Never again.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“It’s one I’m willing to make.”

“When did you get so bold?”

“When you became mine.”

Your eyes narrowed, flicking between his eyes and lips. “Is that what I am?” you questioned, voice light and innocent. “Yours?”

Slow, Harvey. You said you would take it slow.

He feigned a cough, looking away. “That’s what the bouquet meant, right?” he asked, raising one hand to swipe his mustache. “It means we’re official.”

The look you gave him was teasing, dangerous, but you covered it up with a laugh, starting to walk with him back towards the door. Blueberry had disappeared from your shoulder at some point; Harvey guessed even spirits grew tired of couples dancing around each other.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

“‘Home’?”

You looked back at him, huffing. “We’re official, right? That means you get to help me finish up the chores for the day.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. 

Chores. He could do chores. He’d done plenty of chores with you before, when the ache in your grandfather’s back became too much and he needed a couple extra pair of hands. Chores would be good for him, Harvey thought. They would keep his mind off the uncomfortable tightness in his pants that’d been taunting him for hours, keep his dirty thoughts at bay, hopefully even keep some distance between the two of you, just for a little. Just until he could calm himself down and remind himself he was supposed to be going slow.

“You can spend the night, too.”

His face fell.

I’m screwed.

[pacificgrimsarc]

SO YOU WANNA GET TA KNOW ME 'EH?

NAME?: ana

PRONOUNS?: she/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION?: discord or ims!

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: eli, wrench, beck, and set are living rent free in my head rn

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: are we gonna talk about pre-tumblr bc i'm so embarrassed that in like 2007 I was rping on a dress up game forum as a miley cyrus oc. so since then?? but i joined tumblr in early 2010, on @pjoontumblr

BEST EXPERIENCE?: probably this one!!! i was irregular on indie for a few years during college/right after college but in like fall/winter 2022 i decided to jump back on and have met some of the most amazing writer friends ever <333 I feel like I can write whatever the hell I want and will still be loved and appreciated

RP PET PEEVES?: not a pet peeve per se bc everyone has their style, but I personally don't like when ppl write with extra spaces or overly format their writing, or have tiny tiny icons. it's an accessibility thing for me!

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: all of it ;~; ya girl is a secret smut freak y'all just don't know

PLOTS OR MEMES?: either!!! I rly like throwing spaghetti at a wall with a partner and seeing what sticks. so a mix of both I guess??

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: lasjdflasdfl. there's a time and place for both I think. usually on Tumblr I go for 2-3 paragraphs or longer, but I do love the quick back and forth and sharpness that's behind micro replies/shortform stuff that I do on discord.

TIME TO WRITE?: very early in the morning?? it's the only quiet time I have p much where i'm not working or entertaining my pup and hubs.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: not similar in terms of backgrounds or anything, but dialogue style is similar?? I try and write dialogue the way I talk sometimes and I tend to talk in incomplete sentences, hyperboles, idioms, slang, lolz. i live in the Midwest and in my area it's a melting pot of like, suburban rednecks? bc there's rural and then there's the city real close by, it's so hard to explain. so some of my more loquacious muses'll say shit like "now we're cookin' with grease" or "as all get out" or "goodness sakes alive" bc I say that shit

tagged by @hellfollowed TYSM babey i adore u!!!

tagging: anyone reading this!!! @draconisa @thedevilsbckbone @thesongbiird @someotherdog @thewolfruns @facepeeled @bloodrodeo @falscgcds @lovepctions

[dabisbratz]

AGH okay hii there (・・; idk if u remember me, but i was the anon from a while back who asked how you got into impact play and was! really nervous cuz i didn't know if it was my thing, but i wanted to broaden my horizons yk? your reply helped me feel a bit better (thank u btw<3) , but since then i've sorta realized that it's DEF not my thing and i wanted to ask,, do you ever feel bad about not wantin' the rough stuff, if that ever happens? like, do you ever fear that it'd make ur partner/playmate like you any less?

i guess i'm askin' cuz i've been having that problem, and idk what to do about all the pressure to like pain and degradation n stuff :( nd i really look up to you as well!

i know this is a MUCH bigger question than last time, and professional or not, i wouldn't expect ya to give me advice for this kinda thing, so again, i'm hopin' i'm not crossing any boundaries,,, so so sorry if i am, and obvs ignore this msg if that's the case! or maybe i can try sending it off anon later, so u can answer it privately, if that'd make u more comfy? either way, i rlly hope ur havin' a wonderful week, and i'm glad to see that your writing is getting more attention :)

hi bubs !! absolutely do remember you, how could i forget ?! :D v’never been physically sexual with anyone before, but can tell you v’absolutely felt less-than when someone else’s ideas weren’t somethin i was into. t’the point id jus go with it even f’i wasn’t a fan. . which is !! a big nono!! that being said, f’youre with someone who makes ythink you have to fulfill every fantasy they have— darker or not— they’re not the one. n that makes them a terrible, terrible person !! it’s neverever your fault, n it doesn’t n shouldn’t effect how much they love/care about you! you like what you like, n that’s great !! don’t let someone pressure you into doin somethin you don’t wanna do.

n that leads m’to mnext point ! there’s nothin wrong with not bein into pain or degradation or anythin . . . jus intense. cause they’re exactly that, yknow? like . . m’actually not into intense impact play !! i like gettin slapped/spanked but mnot a fan of kickin or punchin or stuff like that.. n the funny thing is, m’only into it if the person doin it is super soft n sweet right after ! anythin you do (with a partner or not!) does not have tbe somethin intense n crazy n rough tbe a good time. what matters s’if you feel good— if they feel good too! n being rough most definitely is not the only way to feel good !!

anywho, yshould definitely talk it through with your partner!! communication is everythin. it’s important t’have boundaries set n placed— respected too. any type of. . play time ! should be guilt free, n it’s much better when everyone’s on the same page!! sorry f’it sounds like mramblin. . there’s so much i wanna say but it’s kinda hard tput into words. . tldr: i do! but we shouldn’t, so it’s important to talk about it t’diminish that feelin of guilt/inferiority !! no need to apologize, sweetpea!! mglad i could help, even if it’s jus a lil bit! <333 n thank you !!!

[eksentrismi]

i am very shy and i want to talk to you and be your friend and talk about j&h with you but i feel like that's weird to reach out like that especially since you don't even know me bro is that weird am i weird for that i don't know what to do and i don't know bro YOU'RE SO COOL MAN!!!!!! YOU'RE TOO COOL!!!!! AAAAAAAAH!!!!

AAAAA, it's okay, anon! Don't worry! :3 I can understand that, I'm a really shy person myself too actually, lol. Though I do love to chat with mutuals and people in general, just oughh... I struggle with starting convos and replying sometimes </3 ... BUT STILL!!!!! No worries, any of that doesn't sound weird to me! I'd love to talk about J&H with ya (and anyone else too here on Tumblr dot com!), feel free to message me anytime here and chat if you like <333 I love chatting with people despite my social anxiety and silliness!!! Especially when it comes to my special interests, my brains just go brrrrrrrr-

And aaaAAAA, thank you for your kind words!! ;_; <3 It means so much to me, that people actually think that I'm..... cool??? I'm a cool dude??? YIPPEE!! 🎉

[siixkiing]

@takeachanceontoday​ con’t { ☯ }

“There’s my scholar.”

Worried expression soon turned to one of relief, feeling the tension leave his body when he heard Tang’s voice finally speak. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath in the moment. Not that breathing was all too important in the moment  — or even really needed on his part. Thumbs gently rubbing to wipe away tears as they fell. Pressing closer and offering comfort.

“It’s alright...it’s alright...you didn’t hurt anyone, you didn’t...”

Voice soft and gentle, doing his best to reassure Tang in the moment. Knowing how worried the other was about what had just happened. Not that he hadn’t been worried himself. The fear of loosing the other to what laid below the surface — it frightened the golden simian to his core. 

“Just, try to rest now...I got you — ”

“ — I’ll keep you safe while you do. I swear.”

With that, the Monkey King moves and hoist the man into his arms. It was time to find somewhere quiet so Tang could recuperate and he could give him his undivided attention. His love needed it right about now and he was going to provide it.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[tetsunova]

i hope i'm not late for the valentines event aaaa please feel free to ignore if i am :'0

may i get a fluff prompt with atsumu and number 18? :00 take your time in writing love, i'll be excited to read about it !! <333

atsumu + "i really like you...your room! your room, i meant! look at all these posters, wow!"

event masterlist | masterlist

Atsumu had been drawn to you since junior high but never really got the chance to express his feelings. The two of you wouldn’t hang around much since he had practice and you had your own club activities to attend to.

There were times when you both passed notes in class. Or when he’d pretend to forget his stationary and claimed that osamu was too far away to ask. He would also occasionally ask to borrow your notebook to copy down notes and draw small doodles of figures saying thank you before handing it back to you.

Imagine how excited he was when the teacher paired you both up for a project. He’d never thought he’d actually get a chance to spend time with you after school but there you both were, exchanging number and deciding upon how you both would go about it. “come over after practice?” ‘huh???’ “to do the project silly” “ye sure” was all he could say, clearly nervous and slightly panicky. He just couldn’t get over it. It was actually happening. Today’s the day he confesses.

“hey” you smiled, ‘hey’ he replied nervously ‘bought these for ya’ he continued while handing over the tiny bouquet of your favourite flowers. “thank you ‘tsumu, they’re beautiful” you kissed his cheek and brought out a vase and placed it on the table after gently inserting the flowers into them. Something about this whole scene seemed so fascinating to atsumu; he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It was such a simple action yet managed to make his heart flutter faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

“this way” you pointed to your room and atsumu followed you after closing the door behind him. It wasn’t long until realisation hit him. He was there, in your room, with you. Panick started accumulating his mind- he clearly hadn’t thought thing though nor had he bothered practicing, thinking he’d be able to ace it without any difficulty but his sweetly palms and ascending heart rate said otherwise. “is something wrong?” you questioned in a slight worried tone.

“er, nothing!” he replied quickly and tried changing the topic, “i really like ya… ya room! your room i meant! look at all these posters wow!” you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable his almost confession was. “what’s funny?” ‘nothing. just, i really like you too, and my posters, that ones my favourite’ you said as you pointed at the inarizaki volleyball team poster. Atsumu didn’t even look at it before replying, trying to end the conversation “thank yo- wait what”

[elysianslove]

hi congrats on 5k🥳 may i request 12.09 am + osamu + nuzzling his face into your neck (it can be sfw/nsfw anything you feel like doing)

still on my osamu bs 😁👆🏼thank you for requesting bubs, and i hope you like this <333

5k Followers Event! — miya osamu nuzzling his face in your neck 

[12:09 am]

it’s not unusual to find a sleepy, drowsy osamu slumping face first onto your shared bed by your side, a deep sigh muffled by the thick covers beneath him. more often than not, it’s how he comes back home after a long day of work, and given everything, it’s understandable. he’s never not been one to put a hundred and ten percent effort into what he’s doing, only adding to the million things that have you falling in love with him all over again.

the sight of him makes you endearingly laugh, discarding of your phone in your hands onto the bedside table and rolling over until you’re halfway on top of him. “welcome home, handsome,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his temple as you hug him close. 

he sighs again, craning his neck to the side to face you, shifting slightly to bring himself closer to you, shamelessly craving your touch. “glad to be home, lovely,” he returns. “really glad.” 

you hum, still humored and smiling softly, your hand leaning over to lightly brush at his hair, pushing away the strands that dip by his eyes. “long day or bad day?” you test, and already, with the smile he gives you, you have your answer. 

“it’s always a good day when i come home to ya.” 

your entire body heats up, burning at your lungs. of course, of course, someone like miya osamu is so casually smooth, even when he’s deadbeat tired, even when he’s barely trying. or maybe you’re just hopelessly in love. both are just as equally probable. despite the fact that you try to hide the way his words had made you feel, it’s more than just obvious to him, and you’re sure it’s simply because he knows you well enough. he’s learnt and studied and marveled at you for hours till he knew everything there is to know about you, even your most subtle of reactions, for no other reason than his uncontrollable desire to. 

still, you roll your eyes, trying your best to bite back a bashful smile and falling onto your back. osamu follows you, shifting towards you until he can easily wrap an arm around your middle. his face falls to your shoulder, nuzzling into the soft cloth of the shirt you wear, his breath tickling at any revealed skin. 

“ya smell so nice,” he points out, burying his face further into the crook of your neck. “ya smell like me.”

reflexively, your arms come to wrap around him, pulling him to you. he shifts again, moving closer until his body is pressed against yours, his ankle locking with yours, his chest rising as he sighs deeply. “i miss you a lot during the day,” you confess, one hand rubbing at his back, the other combing through and twirling the darkened strands of hair. “like to keep a steady reminder of you on me.” 

osamu giggles against you, whispering out, “that’s so cute,” so quietly that it sounds like he’d been mumbling it to himself only. “m’gonna steal that idea.”

“feel free to,” you laugh. he chuckles with you, his lips ghosting above your pulse point. he presses down, kissing your neck softly. it’s not in a way to illicit anything more. it’s a completely innocent show of affection. gently, he repeats the action, kissing you over and over, so lightly that you barely feel it. 

“love ya, gorgeous,” he mutters in between kisses, his voice laced with sleep. it’s deeper yet softer, lighter, like he’s floating. it often feels like that with you, he finds. like he’s floating. it’s the most ethereal feeling he’s ever had the luxury of experiencing. 

“love you too, sleepyhead,” you reply, and slowly, you twist your neck to place another, final kiss to his temple, just as his breathing gets deeper, and just as he eases up by you. 

[reggies-eyeliner]

Rules for Requesting and Asks!

Heyo, you beautiful little bean! Before I start the rules and all that jazz:

(or shoulder pats, if you don’t like them hehe)

So: Rules. Oh boy. I’m not a fan of rules-- rules feel like it’s just “blah blah blah, do this, not that, blah blah” so Imma try to make these as easy as possible for y’all who are excited to ask >:D

1. Soulmate/Normal Matchups (Closed)

What I Ask of You:

You can be as detailed as you want, or you can just make it the bare minimum, do whatever is easiest for you, my dear :D

Just try to include enough about you so that I know which result/outcome would make you the most comfortable

I might be a bit dismissive, so I’ll send you a notif for when I get the ask! Anons are also 1000 percent welcome :]

Yes, I have dedication issues. This is why I’m only in love with fictional characters and not real people xD!

Oh, and I won’t match you with Willie or Alex unless you’re also a dude, but I might match you two has best friends!

Please try to be as respectful as possible in your ask 🥺🥺🥺

I’m not asking for you to worship me or scream at me with thank you’s, but just don’t scream at me for taking too long. Try not to curse every two words because I’m trying to keep my brain *jazz hands* holy

No, jkjk it’s just that there might be younger users reading over these xDD

OKAY SO ANYWAYS

Try to include:

I literally don’t care!! I want you to feel as free as possible while writing yours. Talk about anything you want. I don’t care if you speak of you and your passion for eating raw cookie dough (but same lmao), or if you hate almond milk. Just talk about whatever you want!! I’m here to make people smile and nothing else, sugarcakes! d;

What You Get in Return:

Over 500 words worth in writing per each fandom

Yes, over 500 (it hurts like heck but it’s *throws skittles* okay)

A gif/fanart piece per fandom

You’ll get yours back either: Within 3 days, if you only requested only one fandom and you were very nice hehehehehe , three days if you wre still hecking amazing but I was busy, or it can go to AT MOST, AT MOST I PROMISE around 18 days if I’m having: an exam week, a pinned post, getting a lot of asks, or yours was really complicated and my brain exploded

At times, it may never come if *cough* TUMBLR EATS IT

I will also throw you fifty virtual hugs and skittles

And yes, every ask comes with a thousand hugs, compliments, and shoulder pats!!

A bunch of dating headcanons

If you put in your name, yes, I can customize ;D

What the person I matched you with does when you feel down

How they support you

How you support them

90 percent of it is mainly me rambling about how sweet everyone who asks is, but what can I say? Y’all are precious as heck

Example of Matchup: Hi! Can I please have a matchup for a male character in Julie and the Phantoms (besides willie + alex)? I’m an INFP-T, 5′4″, Aries, and I’m also very annoying haha. I like writing, dance, and singing-- usually, I write a lot of fantasy novels and I want to be an author when I grow up! I also really like baking desserts, particularly brownies, and I also like to make mocktails if I ever get the chance. I love reading, John Green books especially, and I’m usually the funny person in the group to lift everyone’s spirits. Thank you so much :)

2. Band and Song Matchups (Closed)

These are definitely one of the most fun things to do! You can ask for this to be included in your other matchup, but a quick summary of it would be:

Send me your description, but this time add your physical description as well!

A few of the extra-curricular activities you do

Send up to 8 emojis describing your personality and aesthetic (haha it sounds weird but please trust me on this XD)

Your favorite JATP song

Your favorite genre, and/or your fashion style

And wabam, that’s it!

I’ll reply with who I’d see you as in the band, and what song you would be in Julie and the Phantoms. Seems ridiculous, but heyy ya know XD

3. Headcanons, Imagines, Blurbs, Scenarios, Full Stories

PLEASE SEND HOWEVER MANY NUMBER OF THESE LIKE AJAJJAJAJAJAJAJA

I’ll write for any “X READER” that you request

Literally anything

Angst, major character death, if you’re sad, I GOTCHU

Request for as many characters as you want!!

I can write NSFW, BUT I SUCK AT IT SO PLEASE TRY NOT TO REQUEST IT LMFAO

I’ll write everything else

No, like everything else ever

Okay I won’t write like a Reggie x Cowboy bootes but ya know (...that’s actually not a bad idea-)

It doesn’t just have to be a character insert, it can be anything else!! I really don’t mind :]

TRY TO INCLUDE:

What word count you want (or you can write that you’re chill with anything)

Your gender

Which POV you want it in

And I’ll send you what date I can get yours in!

4. Customized Asks:

I have never done this before, so this is kinda new!

IN CUSTOMIZED ASKS:

Put in a lengthy and concise description of yourself-- it should be a lot more detailed than a matchup. Include your personality type, a lot about your personality, anything you want to add, but make it worth it!! Write A LOT about yourself!! Also, be sure to include your name.

Once you have the full thing, private-message me (please make sure you have an account!!) and I’ll send you my Tumblr asks email so you can send your description (or, send it in the submit form or asks, if you’re okay with it being public).

In return, I write you a reader insert with your real name (not y/n hehe) and make it customized just for you. I’ll make it perfect (or try to,) with your personality, your height, your likes, your interests, and your name so that it’s built just for you and no one else!!

The best part??

YOU DON’T HAVE TO PAY ME REAL MONEY HEHEHEHEHHEH

That’s right! A customized ask that goes from 3,000-10,000 words that should come within three weeks! Instead, all I ask is for some support in any way 🥺🥺🥺 It can be through reblogs, (remember: REBLOGS> LIKES d;), a simple follow or shoutout, or even just a thank you. I’m only here to make people happy!! Thank you so much if you do plan on supporting <333</p>

4. Random Asks/Advice

Scream at me. Vent whatever you want to me. Ask me to help with your math homework. Your ELA homework. Ask for love advice. Tell me about what you did this morning. I LOVE, LOVE GETTING THESE ASKS!!

I love it when people come to me not just for asks and such, but just to tell me about their lives or to ask me quetsions!! And I bet a lot of other creators do, as well! So please support them <3</p>

SCREAM AT ME ALL YOU WANT HON, IM HERE TO LISTEN

I’m sorry that this was a bit long, but if you read the full thing, HIGH FIVE >:3

Thank y’all so much!! Stay safe ^U^

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Saw your post asking for cute/silly prompts so I’m here to deliver! How about Geralt, Jaskier & Ciri are all on the road & set up camp for the night. Jaskier & Ciri are restless & bored so they start trying to see who can mess with Geralt the most. Things escalate when Jaskier grabs a handful of mud & slings it at his face, causing a mud fight to break out! Hope this works, love your stuff!

(hi soooo....i strayed a little off the prompt... and i know it was supposed to be silly,i know i asked for that AND IT IS!!! there just... some angst snuck in there without my permission but i bounced it back at the end with some sweetness! i hope you like it!!! thank you so much for sending in it!!!!

Ao3

Rainstorms and Overthinking

“It’s been raining for 3 hours is he ever going to stop?”Ciri whispered, her breath tickling Jaskier’s neck. He’d let her climb onto hisback about an hour after the rain started, the mud from the down poor had nearlybeen swallowing her feet. He gave her legs a gentle squeeze as he squintedthrough the rain at Geralt’s back.

               “ Oh I doubtit. Why should he stop? The muds not bothering him, he’s on a horse!”Jaskier yelled through the deluge, flinching when a drop of rain hit him directlyin the eye. Ciri moved one of her hands from his shoulder, she wiped at thewater above his eyes and then let her hand settle there, shielding his eyesfrom the rain.

Geralt said nothing, just kept on,Roach walking along the road with ease. Jaskier huffed, and smiled when he feltCiri do the same, in synch with him.

“Maybe if we annoy him enough, he’llstop.” She sighed. Jaskier could feel her pulling at the hood of her cloak, nodoubt trying to shield her own eyes from the rain as well.

“I’m soaking wet Jaskier. My cloak alonehas to weight a million pounds. You can put me down, I’ll be okay.” She pattedhis shoulder for him to stop and let her down. He had no intention of doing anysuch thing.

“Nonsense. Look at this mud. It’snearly up to my knee. If I put you down now, I’ll never see you again. You’llbe swallowed whole and I’d never hear the end of it!” He hiked her up a littleon his back, the rain indeed weighing her down, and smiled when he felt hernuzzle closer.

“Thank you.” She said, always sokind and mannered. That had taken some getting used to.

“Let’s just yell at him until hestops.” She said, her hand wiping water out of his eyes again.

“We can try. But I assure you, inthe past, no amount of yelling or complain on my part has ever stoppedthat man from doing anything.” Jaskier sighed, Ciri laughed into his shoulder.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled.

No reply.

“Geralt don’t be rude he’s talkingto you!” Ciri yelled, not as loud as she could, mindful of how close she was toJaskier’s ear. Jaskier watched Geralt’s head turn minutely to the side, butstill he said nothing, and he did not stop. Jaskier patter Ciri’s leg again andtook a deep breath.

“Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geraaaaaaaallllttttt!” Jaskier yelledand yelled until his lungs where empty, Ciri snorted into his shoulder. He tookanother deep breath, fully intending to keep shouting up at the man through therain when Geralt finally responded.

“There’s a place up ahead. Juststop doing that.” His voice was gruff, and annoyed. Jaskier turned to look atCiri, her eyes shining in the rain, giving her a triumphant smile.

“Well done.” She said, laughingwith him as they followed Geralt and Roach off the path and into the trees.

They walked for maybe ten moreminutes, finally coming to a stop near a small indent in the rocks lining theedge of the forest. Jaskier ran to the rocks, sighing happily at the cover andlet Ciri slide off his back to her feet. She immediately threw her cloak off, layingit out on the smooth ground to dry, as much as it could. She smiled up at Jaskieras he began pulling his doublet off to do the same. He struggled for a moment,the fabric stuck fast to his skin, Ciri grabbed the end of his sleeve, helpinghim yank it free, her bubbly laughter filling the air again, echoing off thestone walls behind them.

Geralt slid off Roach and stompedover to them, splashing mud onto Jaskier’s already soaked pants. Jaskier gaspedand glared at him.

“Ya know just cuz they’re alreadydrenched in mud doesn’t mean they need you adding more you oaf.” Jaskier grumbled,more to himself than to Geralt. Geralt turned to look at him, moving his headslowly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier hissed, wringingout his doublet and dropping it to the ground next to Ciri’s cloak, the fabricmaking a sad flopping sound as it hit the ground, clearly still sopping wet.Jaskier sighed and stretched his back.

“Thanks for stopping Geralt. Evenif it took you three hours.” Ciri said, Jaskier smiled at her cheerful sarcasm.He watched as she paced the edge of the small cave, not really a cave at all,more of an alcove.

“Hmm.” Was all she got in response.

“Such a way with words.” Jaskiermuttered, avoiding Geralt’s eyes but feeling the glare like a dagger in hisneck. Then, Jaskier watched, as if the world was moving in slow motion, as Ciribent down and filled her hand with mud. He pulled his hands to his chest, reflexively,as she turned and threw the mud right at Geralt’s back. He’d been rummaging inhis pack, looking for god knows what. The mud hit him between the shoulderblades, Jaskier moving his hand to his mouth, not able to stop the high-pitchedsound that had slipped from him.

Geralt rounded on him quickly. Jaskier’seyes widened in panic as he moved his hand to point at Ciri, ratting her outwith absolutely no coercion at all. Geralt looked at her slowly. She smiled,the innocence on her face not quite reaching her eyes, and wiggled her muddyfingers at Geralt. He growled, low in his throat, and Jaskier didn’t even wantto think about the reaction his body had to that sound, andstalked towards her slowly.

“Geralt. She’s a child, andprincess, please don’t murder her. I don’t want to be implicated and lose myhead along side you!” Jaskier called, taking a few hesitant steps forward andthen stopping when Geralt turned his glare on him.

“Sorry my dear I can’t help you.You’re on your own.” He held his hands out in front him. Ciri laughed and threwanother handful of mud, this one, Geralt could have dodged easily, he was readythis time, but he let it hit him in the leg. Ciri laughed again, backing up,back out into the rain, grabbing more mud. Her laugh getting more frantic as Geraltbent down to grab a handful of his own. He threw it and hit her square in thechest. Her laughter faltered for only a moment, her eyes falling to her ruineddress, Geralt cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to keep going. She took thedare in stride and tossed mud right at his face.

Jaskier laughed, the sound forcingits way out of his throat at the look on Geralt’s mud covered face. And he knewinstantly it was a mistake. They both turned to look at him, hands full of mud,eyes full of mischief.

“No no no no no no!” he tried to backaway, his feet slipping on the damp stone beneath him as they both raised theirhands. He ran out into the rain, desperate not to be cornered, his feet sinkingdeep into the ground as he tried to get away from them.

“No no no! Not in the-“ the mudslammed into him.

“Face.” He sighed, bringing hishands up and wiping the mud from his eyes. He shook both hands out, looking upat them both. And his heart melted at what he saw, Ciri was doubled overlaughing, so hard there was no longer sound coming from her, her face wasbright red. And Geralt. Geralt was standing there, covered in mud, smiling.Smiling at Ciri. And then, after a few moments, smiling at Jaskier. Jaskier smiledback at him. And then he bent down, grabbed a handful of mud himself, and launchedit at Geralt’s head.

All hell broke loose after that.Mud flying through the air, slamming into them all, Roach walked further away, hidingbehind a tree and shaking her head at their shenanigans. The air filled with laughter.Jaskier would swear he even heard Geralt laugh once and was determined to hearit again. He was chasing Ciri through the deep puddle of mud between them whenhe felt it. Something moving beneath his shirt.

He stopped. Frozen in the rain.Geralt and Ciri both stopped, in synch, and looked at him. He let the mud fallfrom his hands and moved them to his chest. He looked up at Geralt.

“Something… is moving.” His handhovered near his shirt, not touching it. He couldn’t look down, he refused too.He stared at Geralt, his eyes wide and pleading. The Witcher moved to him quickly,his fingers wrapping gently around Jaskier’s wrists and pushing his hands outof the way. He curled a finger into the front of Jaskier’s shirt, pulling thesoaked fabric away from his skin. Jaskier kept his eyes glued to Geralt’s faceand gulped when he saw the man grimace. Geralt moved his eyes from Jaskier’schest to his face.

“What is it?” Jaskier whispered, vaguelyaware of Ciri coming closer, peering around Geralt cautiously.

“Do you… have strong feelings aboutleeches?” Geralt asked, his voice forcibly even. Jaskier felt his stomach drop,he fought the urge to gag.

“Get it off. Get it off get it off!”his voice was strained, the urge to scream and run lodged right in throat.Geralt did as he was told, he reached into Jaskier’s shirt quickly. Jaskier feltthe pull on his skin and fought the urge to faint. He squeezed his eyes shuttight.

“It’s gone.” Geralt said, quietly,Jaskier opened his eyes to see Geralt toss the…thing, aside. His skin prickledand he let out a low moan, he tore his shirt off over his head, running back intothe stone alcove, he threw his shirt out into the mud and fell over with a squawkas he frantically pulled his boots off, tossing them to the side. He shoved hispants down and kicked his legs to free himself. He scrambled to his feet again,turning in circles, holding his arms out.

“Do you see anymore?” He was shaking,his voice trembling.

“There’s no more Jaskier.” Ciri’s smallvoice said. Jaskier inhaled sharply when her cold hand touched his arm. Helooked down at her.

“Are you alright?” She asked,smiling shyly up at him. He tried to smile down at her and then realized he wasstanding in only his undergarments in front of her and  took a few steps back, trying his best tocover himself, his hand splayed out on his chest like some fair maiden who hadjust been caught in a compromising position.

“I’m fine. Completely fine I’m… naked,essentially, in front a twelve-year-old princess but ya know, other than that, I’mgreat. Splendid! How are you?” his words falling out his mouth in a rush,making her smile.

“Well, I know the circumstances hadto have been different, but lets not pretend you’ve never been naked in front ofa princess before.” She looked at him, leveling him with a smirk. The laughthat burst out of him was awkward, but it lessened the tension. Geralt walkedback over from Roach and pressed into Jaskier’s personal space. The rain hadstopped now, the few remaining sounds of falling water coming from the drippingtrees a few feet away. Geralt’s brow was furrowed as he wrapped a very dry,very warm, blanket around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier shivered and snuggledinto the warmth immediately. Geralt sat him on the ground against the back ofthe alcove, looking at him for a moment, nodding to himself, seemingly satisfied,and then walked away again.

Jaskier watched him disappear intothe trees, pulling his knees up to his chest, and smiled when Ciri sat downnext to him, her head falling onto his shoulder. She got up after a few moments,ran out to Roach, patter her head for a moment, then dug around for a blanketof her own. She smiled to herself when she found what she was looking for andran back to settle in next to him. Geralt came back awhile later, having foundenough dry wood for a small fire.

Ciri ate the bread Geralt handedher and then dozed off quickly, tucked inside her blanket, curled up like a cat.Jaskier had stayed pressed against the back wall, not talking, eating in silenceand avoiding the concerned glances from Geralt. He also had a sneaking suspicionthat Ciri was pretending to sleep to give them space. She was a smart girl, she’dno doubt been feeling the tension between them. Jaskier knew he’d been feelingit, though he’d been trying to push it down as far as possible in the hopes itwould maybe just… go away.

Geralt tossed the last end of his stalebread into the small fire and got up from where he’d been sitting. He nudgedJaskier’s leg with his toe, Jaskier looked up at him, confused, to say theleast. Geralt reached down, pulled one side of the blanket open and pressedhimself into Jaskier’s side, pulling the blanket around them both. He sits. Silently.Pressed side to side with Jaskier. Try as he might, Jaskier can’t stand thesilence.

“I’m sorry.” He says, worrying theblanket between his fingers nervously.

“Sorry for what?” Geralt asks, andhe has the decency to sound genuinely confused.

“We were having a good time. For once.And I ruined it.” He sighs, dropping his head back against the chilly stonebehind him. Geralt shifts next to him, pressing closer, Jaskier holds in theshiver that threatens to run through him at the closeness.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He says,serious as always.

“I did though. You were laughing. Idon’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh, and that’s a travesty by the way becausethe laugh I heard today… it was nice. You should definitely bless the worldwith that laugh more often. But that’s not the point. The point… the point was…what was the point? Oh! The point was you laughed, and would have probably laughedagain and I ruined it. You both got all worried. Because of me.” He bit his lipand looked into his lap. He felt so stupid, it wasn’t a big deal. Shouldn’t havebeen anyway.

“Do you want to talk about it?”Geralt pressed his elbow softly into his ribs.

“Talk about what?” Jaskier wasplaying dumb, he knew it, but it was all he had right now.

“Whatever it is that made you reactthat way. Must have been something bad if it has you sulking this much.” Jaskierlooks at him then, and he’s… he’s smiling. Geralt of Rivia, is smiling at him,pressed close to him under a blanket. Jaskier swallows, fights all of his, admittedlyterrible, instincts that are telling him to lean over and kiss him, and looksback to his lap, pressing the hem of the blanket between his fingers.

“It’s nothing. Just a bad experiencewhen I was kid. There was a pond. It was full of leeches. I fell in, freakedout, ran home. Unfortunately, the manor was full of guests for some kind ofparty my parents were throwing. I ran in crying, covered in leeches. Everyonelaughed. I was traumatized. It was all very character building I suppose.” He looksback at Geralt, a pained smile on his face.

“Didn’t feel very character buildingat the time though.” He was almost whispering now, he felt Geralt press evercloser.

“I’m sorry that happened.” Thetender sincerity in his voice made Jaskier’s chest ache.

“I’ve never been fond of leecheseither. I know logically they can be helpful, but I’d rather not come acrossthem if I can help it.” He smiled at Jaskier, again, and Jaskier could hear hisheart pounding in his ears.

“So nervous.” Geralt is whisperingnow, his voice teasing, Jaskier shivers when his breath ghosts over his skin.

“I- I’m not nervous. Who’s nervous?”Jaskier stammered, swallowing hard, and then Geralt’s fingers are touching hisarm. Jaskier feels himself flush, fire burning his skin where Geralt’s fingersrest, crawling across his body as Geralt moves his hand up Jaskier’s arm.

“Your heart is beating awfully fastfor someone who isn’t nervous.” Geralt pauses, his fingers move under Jaskier’schin and he pushes Jaskier’s head up gently. Jaskier swallows hard, again, whenhis eyes meet Geralt’s, his hands are trembling in his lap.

“Right. Yeah. Ya know I’ve beenthinking maybe I have anxiety issues. Cuz I’ve noticed that too… ya know… thatit’s- it’s been happening… a lot.” Jaskier clears his throat, his voice trailingoff.

“…Lately.” He breaths, lamely, notsure why he’s even still talking. He watches Geralt’s lips quirk, the corner ofhis mouth lifting just so, as he looks at Jaskier and Jaskier looks right back,and sighs. He can’t help it. This whole situation, this moment in time, Geraltwillingly curled up under a blanket with him, is just so… soft.

“Hmm. Anxiety. Right.” Geralt says,and he’s pressing closer, and Jaskier wants to let this happen, he wants topress forward too and close the barely there distance, but he’s… scared. Geraltis so close, Jaskier watches the Witcher’s eyes begin to fall closed and hefeels himself tense up.

“Jaskier.” Geralt breathes, stillso close.

“Mhm?” he hums, his throat so tighthe can’t manage any actual words.

“You’re overthinking it.” He whispers,his hand moving to Jaskier’s neck, his thumb moving against his cheek as hepulls him close, closing the distance. Jaskier hears himself whimper when theirlips touch. A small, needy, sound that Geralt swallows greedily, pullingJaskier closer still, his hand snaking down around Jaskier’s waist, the warmthof his skin against Jaskier’s making him gasp. Geralt smiles against his lipsand presses his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth, Jaskier fists his hands in Geralt’sshirt and holds him close, letting Geralt take whatever he wants from him.

Geralt pulls back, resting his foreheadagainst Jaskier’s. They stay that way, for a long time. Or maybe no time atall. Jaskier can’t tell the different anymore. Not right now. He’s trembling inGeralt’s arms as he holds him close. After what seems like ages and millisecondssimultaneously Geralt lays them both down, pulling Jaskier against his chest,making sure the blanket is covering them both.  

“Overthinking it?” Jaskier breathes,his head resting on Geralt’s chest.

“Hmm. It’s interesting. The onlytime you seem to overthink anything, is with me.” Geralt said, thoughtful, hisfingers moving into Jaskier’s hair.

“And just what does that mean?”Jaskier tires his best to sound offended, but he’s finding it hard.

“You know very well that you don’tthink before you act. Ever.” He moves his head to look down at Jaskier as Jaskierlooks up at him.

“Except with you.” Jaskier says,his fingers curling in Geralt’s shirt. Geralt smiles softly at him, his fingersmoving soothingly against Jaskier’s scalp.

“Except with me.” Geralt agrees.Jaskier looks at him for a moment longer and then rests his head back againstGeralt’s chest, wrapping his arm around him and snuggling closer.

“And you just love that don’t you? Beingthe one thing that makes me think.” Jaskier pokes him in the ribs.

“Not especially. You overthink andyour heart gets loud. Very annoying.” Geralt mutters, but presses a kiss intoJaskier’s hair.

“Oh shut up. I know you love it.”Jaskier mumbles, he can feel sleep coming to claim him, his eyelids heavy.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, his chestrumbling beneath Jaskier’s cheek.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks, his eyesfalling shut and then snapping open, his whole body twitching as he fights offsleep.

“Jaskier.”

“Don’t leave me. Promise you’ll behere when I wake up.” Jaskier whispers the words into Geralt’s chest like a prayer.

“I’m not going anywhere. Go tosleep Julian. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be right here.” Jaskier smilesat the name, sounding so right in Geralt’s mouth. He feels Geralt’s arm wrap aroundhim, holding him close, and lets sleep carry him away to dreams full of rainand laughter.

[mysticalmuddle]

Sorry if this has been asked before, but what got into asoiaf? Also, did you like Arya and Jonrya from the first read or did that come later? What do you think of Jon as a character? What are your top 10 favourite characters and moments? I aplologise for this avalanche of questions but I just couldn't help wanting to know more of my favourite asoiaf writer. PS: I adore your aesthetic, your blog and writing gives me an otherworldly feeling.

Hey no worries! Ask away <333

but what got you into asoiaf?  I’ve always been into quasi-medieval fantasy, and picked up asoiaf a looooooooong time ago, when I was in middle school. It was so engagingly written that it never really left my brain since? That’s like, ten whole years rent free I’ve been thinking about these characters. What recently spurred me into like, engaging with the fandom/writing/etc was the lack of action in the Jonrya tag, and more specifically, the lack of stories updating that I was interested in, so I decided to make my own 😅

Also, did you like Arya and Jonrya from the first read or did that come later? Re: liking Jon and Arya right off the bat--Okay, so when I first read the series, I was Going Through It IRL, and identified a lot with Jon and his storyline? But I was also so not past the age of “girls going on insane dangerous adventures and being brave despite that” being massively appealing and all the Arya chapters were a satisfyingly more adult version of that genre. I’ll say I liked them both from the get-go, and it’s never really died down since, and I just learned over the years and rereads to appreciate more of the characters. (If I’d been a little older on that first read, I probably would have glommed onto Tyrion instead, and my fandom interactions now would be...vastly different  😂😂😂)

I guess I sort of shipped it from the moment I read ADWD. Like, I was super into Jon&Arya before then--that level of devotion is one of my fictional relationship draws--but ADWD really got me into it. There was just something so compelling about how often they think of each other, and how badly they want to be reunited again, in Arya’s chapters especially. But the whole passage with the Pink Letter just Fucked Me Up emotionally, and suddenly I was like, “They should reunite and kiss”.  Over the years, my enthusiasm for the ship has increased, as my very old slushpile of unpublished fics can attest.

What do you think of Jon as a character? I think he’s an incredibly complex character, which is my favorite type of character! His struggles in the series against his own desires versus his sense of duty, especially framed in the narrative by popular thoughts about bastards, and how that affected his self esteem--he has to be more honorable, more clever, more dedicated just to make up for a facet of his own existence that he didn’t control and can’t change!--is something I just find so compelling. And, of course, his deeply intense love for Arya always gets me like 😍😍😍���� I don’t have any huge takes on him though--I’m not a very thinky type person and everything I think about characters seems so hard to articulate unless I’m pouring it out into a fic (so I’m sorry if you wanted Takes! This Bitch Empty!)

What are your top 10 favourite characters?

Arya

Jon

Daenerys

Brienne

Tyrion

Missandei

Oberyn

Bran

Asha

Sansa

What are your top 10 favourite moments? Alright, these are in no particular order of preference, just listened as I remembered/googled exactly what books they took place in

1. When Brienne rescues Willow from the Bloody mummers, despite knowing that they’ll kill her for the attempt, AFFC-Brienne VII. No chance and no choice gives me chills every fucking time

2. When Arya kills Dareon and walks off with his boots, AFFC-Cat of the Canals. This moment has implications and speaks to Arya’s inability to let go of herself, even when all that being a Stark means in that moment is the gruesome work of justice, but I’ll be honest--I just like it because of how nonchalant and almost sassy she is when taking the boots afterwards, and how it speaks to her practicality. 

3. When Jon reads the Pink Letter and loses his shit, ADWD-Jon XIII.  I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …"I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said. Ohohohohhhoo!!! Juuuuust fuck me up GRRM!!

4. When Daenerys has breakfast with Missandei in Mereen and Missandei chides her into eating more, saying Daenerys is very small, ADWD-Daenerys VII. But also every Daenerys & Missandei interaction ever. Every time they speak to each other, you can just tell the level of care they have, and how they see each other as family over time!!!

5. When Arya travels with the Brotherhood Without Banners and gives water to the northern prisoners before watching as Anguy mercy-kills them, ASoS-Arya V. It’s a facet of Arya’s personality that imo, I think is ignored in metas and fics. She considers them her pack, and despite her disappointment in them, and her disgust at their crimes, still gives them water and finds them a quick, merciful death.

6. The dinner with the men of the Nightswatch and the discussion Bran and Robb have afterwards, about riding to the Wall to see Jon, and about whether their family will come back, AGoT-Bran IV This moment, I think, speaks to Robb’s characterization in a way that Catelyn’s POV chapters don’t touch very well. He’s so very young, despite everything, and trying his hardest, and well aware of the dangers his family is in, and how he’s falling short of saving them and there’s nothing he can do about that. 

7. Oberyn during Tyrion’s trail by combat, and his arrogance and his rage, ASoS-Tyrion X. His demand that the Mountain say Elia’s name got me tearing up the first time I read it, not realizing what the cost of that justice would be for Oberyn himself. So much of ASoIaF deals with grief, and the consequences of obsessive grief, and this fit into the series so impeccably fucking well

8. Every single thing about Daenerys freeing the slaves at Astapor, ASoS-Daenerys III. One of the things I really didn’t appreciate in the show is how they changed the tone of that scene, very much altering it from Daenerys and her joy that she can do this thing, a balm after the horror she felt seeing the slaves and learning about the brutal training the Unsullied go through, into a moment that was just her being badass and powerful. 

"Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" "Dracarys!" they shouted back, the sweetest word she'd ever heard. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire. "Dracarys!" they shouted back, the sweetest word she'd ever heard. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire."Dracarys!" they shouted back, the sweetest word she'd ever heard. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire. [Bold mine] The moment on the show was momentous, but this was-----vastly superior and far more indicative of her character.

9. Catelyn stopping the catspaw from killing Bran, AGoT-Catelyn III. Watching Catelyn emerge from the haze of her grief only to go full fucking ham feral and brutal protecting her child was like *chef’s kiss* There’s just such a cool contrast between her losing her shit talking with Robb a moment before, and then the actual fight, and then her busting out with:  "The circumstances did not allow me to examine it closely, but I can vouch for its edge," Catelyn replied with a dry smile. "Why do you ask?"

10. This exchange:  Alliser Thorne overheard him. "Lord Snow wants to take my place now." He sneered. "I'd have an easier time teaching a wolf to juggle than you will training this aurochs.""I'll take that wager, Ser Alliser," Jon said. "I'd love to see Ghost juggle." AGoT-Jon III. That’s the moment I knew I stanned Jon Snow irreparably, forever.

PS: I adore your aesthetic, your blog and writing gives me an otherworldly feeling.  No u! For real, anon, that’s so fucking sweet of you to say  🥰🥰🥰 Hope I answered everything to your satisfaction, and feel free to come back and chat if the mood strikes ya!

[natto-axolotl]

it’s me ya boi :333 i’m sorry if i do this wrong i am the dumb dumb stoopit so uhhHH - cytus fandom !! - i🅱️y and 🅱️anessa - how about ,,,,,, hyperventilating - i🅱️ynessa pls - no other specifics ur valid and i love u u funky amazing talented person

THIS IS SO LATE BUT HERE U GO

fandom: cytus ii

character(s): OPCI_2501_IV | Ivy, OPCI_2501_V | Vanessa

pairings: Ivynessa/45

warnings: panic attacks

wordcount: 902

read it on ao3 or on tumblr

Sleep was a funny thing.

Humans needed to sleep, because that was how they got their energy. It was like eating and breathing, one of the human habits Vanessa and Ivy had to learn to blend in, though they “slept” more often on purpose rather than to blend in.

Breathing was weird too, because most humans actually don’t notice if someone was breathing until they stopped. Of course, Vanessa would “sleep” sometimes, because it was a simple way to kill time, and it was actually quite relaxing, and they would “breathe” in situations where it would require them to look like they were breathing if they wanted to pass as human.

Dreams were much, much different though. Neko had told them about how dreams were weird scenes that you would “see” inside your mind while you were asleep. She said there were two major types of dreams: good dreams and bad dreams. Most of the time her dreams were nonsensical in a good way and made no sense, and she and PAFF had spent a good chunk of time deciphering their own.

Could the OPCI dream? Ivy knew that they were capable of emotion and free will (THANK you, Ilka), and could mimic many “human” behaviors, but dreams were still strange, a weird place between delusion and reality. Ivy had thought about the idea of OPCI being able to view their memories as dreams, but Neko had pouted and said something about it being “too sciency” and had redirected the conversation.

So, Ivy reasoned, the OPCI could not dream like humans could.

It was a muggy July night, and Ivy had nearly fallen through the door of the tiny apartment she shared with Vanessa when she came home. Shucking off her hoodie’s bulky outer layer, she collapsed onto the kitchen table and buried her face in her arms.

The sound of footsteps behind her grew louder, and Ivy felt arms wrap around her chest.

“Bad day?” Vanessa asked, resting her chin in Ivy’s hair.

Ivy merely grunted in reply.

Vanessa smiled in understanding, and slowly dragged Ivy into the bedroom. Dropping her unceremoniously onto the covers, she rolled next to Ivy,

“It’s okay, just take your time,” Vanessa reassured as she laid her chin onto Ivy’s shoulder.

Ivy only managed to make a small hrrmph before floating off into unconsciousness.

When her eyes finally opened, it was dark out (she estimated around 1 a.m.) and there were barely any noises.

Barely, because there was shifting and mumbling and gasping coming from besides her. Vanessa.

Slowly turning to face her, Ivy gently tilted her head to look at Vanessa. Her eyes were still shut. Ivy breathed a sigh of relief, before she realized what was happening.

Turns out, the dreary early morning sun did little to help illuminate the room, because Vanessa was shaking.

Reaching one hand over, Ivy brushed pink hair out of her face and softly gasped at what she saw.

Vanessa’s eyes were screwed shut in a grimace, and her mouth opened and shut, small murmurs of no and please stop and Ivy coming out.

What was most jarring, however, was Vanessa’s breathing. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, much more than Ivy would expect from an OPCI.

(Distantly, she remembered hearing something about a human affliction called hyperventilating. Neko described it to her as “when someone gets so panicky they can’t regulate their breathing.”)

(Neko had recommended some techniques for Ivy to use in the off chance that Aroma started hyperventilating and there was no one else to help her. Ivy wasn’t sure if they would work on OPCI, but then again, the difference between the two was beginning to blur lately.)

Ivy put one hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and pulled her closer, running her fingers through the soft mop of pink hair. She began gently humming the song she was writing, clutching Vanessa to her chest the whole time.

“Nobody can hear,” Ivy breathed, closing her eyes as she felt Vanessa’s breathing slow down.

“I’m barely breathing,”

“All of my dreams”

“No longer being in my story,”

The sobs gradually lessened, and Ivy felt Vanessa drape one arm over her waist.

“Nobody can see,”

”Now I'm standing,”

”On the way you lead,”

“Trying everything but fading,”

Ivy felt warm hands lace around her chest, and heard soft whimpering. Her hand kept stroking Vanessa’s hair, almost as if on autopilot as she kept humming.

“between me and me,”

“Even if it's reality,”

“It won't become new memories,”

“You used to be.” Vanessa shuffled around in Ivy’s arms, angling her head up to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, Vee,” she murmured, sucking in a deep breath.

Ivy smiled, kissing Vanessa on her forehead as she brushed away her bangs. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Vanessa glanced aside, her expression dimming as she grimaced.

“I...thought I was back at A.R.C. The library, the scientists.” She shudders, chest shaking slightly.

“I saw you. Dead on the floor, when Simon and Colin were trying to rescue us. You were shot by the guards,” her voice began wavering, “despite them being told to stand down-”

“Shh,” Ivy hushed, feeling Vanessa beginning to hyperventilate again. “I’m here. I’m not dead, I’m in one piece, I’m okay.”

“Mmm,” Vanessa mumbled sleepily, leaning into Ivy’s arms.

Ivy snuggled Vanessa, closing her eyes as well.

“Now I can see.”

[that-yandere-life]

Peter Saves S/O Headcanon

Anon Prompt:  (if this bothers ya feel free ta ignore) Yandere Peter Parker has an obsession he ran into as Spiderman. They hit it off, they seemed so positive. They usually meet at the same spot every other day but they don't show up. He sees a commotion and see them onthe top of a top building. They jump but Peter saves them and they explain they have nothing to live for, that they lost everything a while ago and tried to keep going but it became too much.

[Sorry it wouldn’t let me reply to the prompt at the moment, I will link it later <3]

[Warning: Attempted Suicide! PLEASE IF YOU ARE FEELING THIS WAY CALL THE HOTLINE IN YOUR AREA! TELL A PERSON YOU TRUST, OR TEXT THE CRISIS TEXT LINE! YOU ARE WORTHY AND DESERVING OF LIFE, AND FOR IT TO HAVE A CHANCE TO GET BETTER! <3]

When you first met him he was in his suit out patroling one night.

You were out on the rooftop of your building when you heard something land behind you startling you.

There he stood, in all his glory: Spider-Man.

The hero from the news that was famous for saving the city, and even working with the Avengers.

That night turned out to be one of many you would end up on the roof together.

To you it was nice to have someone to talk to every now and then, god you were lonely all the time these days.

To him, he became infatuated with you, way passed obsessed and significantly more than love.

Each time he saw you he absorbed every bit of information you would give him that was insight into you and your life.

Then you weren’t where you usually meet for a few days he became worried, it had never been that long in between meetings.

Spider senses tingling he immediately felt drawn towards it, and that it had to be something to do with you.

Reaching a taller building, one that he recognized as your workplace from the many times he followed you.

On the ground was a growing crowd of people watching on in terror as someone stood atop looking down as if they were contemplating jumping.

In fact that is exactly what you were doing.

You couldn’t take it anymore, your family didn’t care about you, you didn’t have any friends to speak of, working at a dead end job, the list went on and on.

Honestly you couldn’t really think of a reason to stick around anymore, it was if you had lost all hope.

Tears were running down your face, the only thing running through your mind was the fact that you didn’t say goodbye to the one person you did have.

Even if they were a superhero who likely just saw you as another citizen out of the many he interacted with on a daily basis.

Closing your eyes you inhaled deeply before stepping off, able to feel the rush of the wind surrounding you.

Part of you wanted to look, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

That was until you felt someone grab onto you midair, your body colliding into theirs harshly.

Out of shock your eyelids shot open to reveal it was Spider-Man holding you in his arms as he swung around, webbing various buildings.

Reaching your typical roof he finally set you down his heart beating a million times an hour, his mind racing just as fast with so many questions that needed answers.

Instead he just slammed his arms around you again pressing your head into his chest, his fingers trembling against you.

“Why did you do that?”

Calming you down he rubbed your back waiting for you to answer him, trying not to be too demanding or harsh.

Explaining to him that you didn’t have anything to live for, and that no one would care that you were gone.

Not to mention the other things that factored into you feeling the way that you did.

Peter did something you didn’t expect, he ripped off his mask so that you could see his expression.

Tears filled his beautiful brown eyes, his nose growing wet too, he didn’t even realize he had been crying this whole time.

Tells you how he cares if you live or die, and that you deserve a chance for things to get better.

About how he can’t imagine living in a world where you didn’t exist.

That he couldn’t let you give up on life, he would show you that it was worth living.

He could take you away from all of your sorrows if you just relied on him to love you and take care of you.

In the end it will seem like your choice to go with him, but in reality he wasn’t going to back down if you didn’t.

[Thank you so much for your request! I hope that you enjoy it, and that I did your idea justice! <333]

[jadekitty777]

See You Heal

Hey everyone, long time no update, right? Aha!

Alright time for something a little different but still sweet. This entry is a work entirely inspired by @ladyrobiness‘ beautiful Slow Sunrise series. I woke up one morning and the idea just hit me like a truck and well... I had to write it out.

This is a continuation to that series so, reading it first is absolutely required. But why wouldn’t you? It’s a beautiful Fix-It fic with lots of tender moments of healing for Qrow and Clover both along with them just falling in love like the adorable dorks they are <333

Here are the Ao3 links to both:

Robiness’ Story: Slow Sunrise series

My Story: See You Heal

It’s also below the cut!

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 2800

Summary: Qrow knows ignoring the problem only makes it worse. Unfortunately, dealing with it has its own set of problems too.

~

Sometimes, Qrow wished his standard for dealing with shit wasn’t ‘‘Ignore it until it goes away’.

It didn’t work. He knew it didn’t work – and yet sometimes his traitorous brain thought: maybe this time it’ll be different. So, when the issue of Clover not liking anyone at his six came up, like a scroll that had been factory reset, he defaulted. Hoped in the most ironic ways that the problem would just fix itself or at the very least, never become a problem.

That was why, as he gusted through the air trying to spot the nearest nomadic settlement, all he could see instead was Clover’s dismayed expression.

Really, he only had himself to blame.

They’d been traveling through Vacuo’s unforgiving desert for hours. It was a six-day journey to reach Shade Academy, most of which they had to do on foot as no locals at the city border ever escorted anyone across the desert without a price. Though they’d gotten an early start, beginning their trek even before the sun had peaked the horizon, as the day waned the sands around them began to shimmer as the heat rose to unbearable heights. Add onto that an unstable ground that left them all unsteady on their feet, relentless winds that whipped sand along exposed skin and eyes, and the occasional Grimm or wildlife lying in wait for an attack, and it just seemed like a recipe for disaster.

So, when the Sidewinder Grimm leapt from the dunes they were walking across and struck out at Weiss, all but two of them either didn’t react fast enough, or stumbled when they tried. The first of the two that had was Clover, who had his fishing line around Weiss in an instant and yanked her his way. The second was Ruby, who sped above the field like a shot, petals and dust following her wake as she managed to get in the first blow.

Within seconds, the rest of them recovered and suddenly the snake had ten skilled opponents bearing down on it. It certainly wasn’t a long battle, but enough to get the adrenalin going. The kids seemed to take it as they saw it, realizing the threat was over once the smoke cleared. But more veteran huntsmen like himself kept on guard a little longer.

Or like Clover – who wasn’t expecting Jaune to come up behind him and give him a congratulatory pat on the back.

The reaction was instantaneous. Clover yelped as he twisted and swung Kingfisher right at the boy’s head.

The clang of metal hitting metal seemed to echo the world into silence.

Jaune, shield shadowing his face, looked tense and a little frightened.

Clover just looked horrified.

And then he was faltering back, dropping his weapon into the sand. “I’m- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- are you okay?!”

“I’m, fine.” Jaune answered a little shakily, trying to laugh it off. “I don’t think now is the time for a training exercise though.”

Clover tried to meet him, but his own chuckle rang hollow. “No. No it’s not.” He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. “I really am sorry. I, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s too hot.” Weiss was the one to offer, turning the attention her way. “I’m having trouble too.”

It sounded logical. Believable. Of course the Atlesians weren’t accustomed to blistering heat like this and would be most likely to succumb to its’ effects.

Only Qrow knew the truth of the matter. Tried not to think how a desert wasn’t so unlike a tundra – open space, unsteady footing, extreme weather.

“We need to get out of this sun.” Blake decided.

Ruby nodded in agreement. “Right. Uncle Qrow, can you scout ahead and see if you can spot something?”

That’s how he ended up in the sky, canting in great big circles like a vulture and looking to every horizon as he tried to make out a camp or an outcropping or a cactus. Anything that might provide shade or water. It took a few cycles, increasing his radius at every turn, before finally managing to see several flutterings in the distance. Upon closer inspection, he knew it was the tarps of caravans, moving southwest. Which meant stable ground and civilization.

He dove back towards the group, morphing just shy of his landing. “Looks like someone’s on the move several miles that way. There’s probably a temporary camp nearby.”

Or if there wasn’t, there would be.

“Right, then let’s move.” Ruby ordered, turning to the robot beside her. “Penny maybe you can try and keep us cool in the meantime?”

“I will give it my best shot!”

Their conversation faded to background noise as his focus instead shifted to Clover who, for the first time since they’d begun traveling together, took lead instead of rear. A silent attempt to rebuild goodwill. But his posture was held straight, an unnatural rigidity to his movements.

Qrow joined him, not quite reaching for his hand, but allowing their knuckles to brush together. The effect was miniscule, but there, just the slightest drop of his shoulders as his face eased into a small, not-quite-there smile.

Okay. He could work with this.

~

It was funny how easy it was to trick a Vacuon when they thought they were the ones playing it. All it took was some altruistic speeches from the kids about wanting to help because that’s what huntsmen did and the words “free of charge” and suddenly they were traveling with a whole parade of people who thought they were getting protection for nothing. Which was mostly true – except of course, now they had a place to stay in and quicker way to the academy.

It also kept them busy, trading off shifts throughout the day to keep watch on their surroundings. Which meant it was almost two days later before he finally had a moment alone with Clover. The wayfarers who they were assisting had a strict habit of bearing down at the hottest part of the day to conserve resources and energy. With JNPR 2.0 on duty and RWBY helping with lunch, Qrow took the opportunity to retire to their makeshift quarters.

As he stepped into the tent, he found his segue into the conversation was going to be more on the nose then he’d planned for.

Clover was seated on one of the various sleeping mats, Harbinger in his lap as he tended to her gears. “Hey.” He greeted. “How’d scouting go?”

“Uh. Fine.”

Seeming to sense his unease, the huntsman paused, looking between him and the weapon. “Oh, sorry! I guess I should do this later.”

“No!” The word burst out of him, startling them both. Qrow cleared his throat, repeating more levelly, “No, it’s fine really. I told you to take care of her.”

To prove his statement, he took the few steps forward to sit directly across from him.

Clover eyed him skeptically for several long moments, perhaps trying to puzzle out if he was trying a backwards form of recovery or just talking big. He seemed to decide the former as he bent back over the sword. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. A lot of grit is getting in-between the gears. But I’m worried about messing up the mechanics.” He offered him a smile. “Harbinger’s really intricate. You did an amazing job.”

“Laying it on a little thick there, aren’t ya Ebi?” He scooted forward just a little, pointing to the correct parts as he spoke. “First loosen the spindle here. Then you can take out the suspension spring and remove this gear.”

They spent the next several minutes just going about the task. Even though he was guiding another’s hands through the motions, the work was so familiar it was relaxing. He even found it possible to keep hold of the small, easily lost pinions as they were removed. All the while, he studied Clover as he worked, the way his brow furrowed with deep concentration or how his strong hands never faltered as he took out each gear with care and reverence. As if the weapon was as cherished as his own.

“Last one.” Qrow announced as the fifth pinion was dropped into his palm.

“You know, before I really was praising you.” The smallest cog came out with a small pop, being added to the growing collection on the cloth Clover had laid out. He finished his statement with a mirthful smile, “But now I’ve determined you went too far.”

He snorted. “Sorry my sword-scythe-shotgun hybrid is a little more complicated than your basic fishing rod.”

He gasped in mock offense. “My darling may not have all your weapon’s fancy little tricks, but it gets the job done with just as much grace.”

“Oh, that’s what you call all that flailing around?”

“Watch it Branwen.”

“What? Am I-” The rest of his words ‘on thin ice’ died in his throat. “Uh-”

This time, Clover misinterpreted his floundering. “What, am I doing it wrong?”

He focused on where the other’s hands were, his own quickly reaching out to catch his, only to abort the motion just as quickly when his fingertips skimmed Harbinger’s surface. That Clover noticed.

He ran the same hand over the back of his neck. “Uh, don’t remove that unless you want her coming apart completely.”

“Alright.” Clover lifted his hand from the center plate obediently. “Are you doing okay or should we stop?”

Dropping the pinions onto the cloth beside the other parts, he tried not to let it feel like too much of a failure. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” He replied with a frown.

Qrow stared. Was he being serious right now? “You’re kidding. If anything you should be more repelled to be holding her than me.”

“But I’m not. I never have been.”

The frustration broke over like a wave so that his next words flooded out like a tide of turbulent emotions, “Why not? You’re the one who got hurt! Why is it so easy for you?!”

No, no. Shut up.

He slouched over, scrabbling hands through his hair, tugging at the ends as if it would ground him back to the present.

This was going all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be getting angry.

“I-I mean-” He started to say.

Clover cut him off. “Have you ever considered things were different from my perspective?”

He blinked. Looked up. “What?”

The other huntsman’s gaze drifted, falling down to the blade still in his lap. He ran his palm along the surface. “I never saw it. Or if I did, my mind’s blocked it out. I… remember pain. How hard it was to breathe. But as far as anything I saw in that moment? All I can think of is gray. A dark gray, almost black, but kind of green too?”

Qrow frowned, trying to piece that together. Atlas wasn’t exactly known for its abundance of greenery. The only green thing he could think of was Clover’s own pin. Maybe it was just his body going into shock, making him see things that weren’t actually there.

“Either way,” He continued, idly tracing the intricate patterns embedded in the sword’s metal. “What I’m getting at is, the only reason I know this was the weapon that struck me is because I was told it was. To me, it’s kind of removed from the whole event.” His movements stopped, that same dismayed look from several days ago clouding his features. “Instead, I have other problems.”

Seemed like they were going to have that conversation after all. “Like what happened with Jaune.”

“Yeah. I hadn’t meant to attack him. I just thought…” Clover slumped, trailing off.

“That he was someone else. I know.” Qrow said in the space left behind. “Known for awhile, actually. I knew it was an issue, but I hadn’t said anything. Tch. I should of. Maybe then-”

A flick to his forehead had him jerking back.

“Stop.” Clover’s fingers soothed over the spot, sliding down along the contours of his face to cup his jaw. “You’re not responsible for my problems Qrow. It’s my job to acknowledge them and ask for help if I need it.”

There was a lot of things he thought to say, the most prominent being how Clover never seemed to have an issue laser focusing on Qrow’s problems and addressing them (though, to be fair, those results didn’t always pan out) – but what he finally decided on saying was, “Do you need help?”

Teal eyes went wide and he drew back. The look on his face, vulnerable and lost, was heartbreaking. “I, uh. I don’t know.”

“Would you like to try something?” He pressed on gently.

“Like what?”

“An exercise.” He waved towards Harbinger. “Set her aside and take off your shirt – Don’t smile like that, I’m not gonna do anything lecherous.”

Clover laughed. “Ah, there goes all my hopes and dreams.” Still, he did as commanded, laying the blade to his left before peeling off the green shirt he wore.

Qrow managed not to stare at the metal plating built into the center of his chest, stitching his body together like a broken doll. Instead he reached forward, undoing the red bandanna around the man’s arm – one of the only things he’d kept of his old uniform, besides the boots – and tied the cloth around his eyes instead.

“Uh, Qrow?” Now blind, Clover sounded a lot more uncertain.

He ran a hand through short brown locks. “When I used to teach, I would do this with the students.”

“Lot to unpack with that statement.” He was barely containing a laugh.

It was his turn to flick him. “Shut it and listen.” He got to his feet, speaking as he rounded the other. “It was usually for typical stuff. Figuring out what movements they knew by reflex and what they needed to work on. Keeping an ear on their surroundings when their eyes can’t. But sometimes,” He stopped directly behind him. “It was to help break bad habits.”

Clover was already tense. “Really?”

“Ruby’s footwork used to be terrible. Got worse when she discovered her semblance – she was tumbling all over the place. Taking away her sight made her focus harder on every step she made. Made her more aware of everything she was doing.” Qrow reached out, fingertips brushing along the base of Clover’s neck, the skin shuddering under his touch. “That’s what I want you to do. Focus on the way your body reacts and correct it.”

“This… seems a little unconventional.”

He knelt down behind him. “Sometimes it’s the unconventional methods that work. Now,” He laid his palm flat along metalwork layered over his spine, hearing the sharp inhale. “Let’s get started.”

~

Qrow couldn’t say for how long, exactly, the exercise went on for – but it was certainly not as long as he would have kept one of his students at it. Where he’d push them to continue even just a minute longer, he was more willing to pull back with the brunette, knowing this was taking a mental toll along with the physical one. So, when he noticed Clover’s efforts were turning to frustration, he was quick to call for a break, offering that maybe they could finish up with Harbinger in the interim.

Clover, stubborn man he was, didn’t want to quit entirely though.

That was how they ended up sitting back to back as Qrow polished off the gears and pins and Clover set them into place.

Healing takes many forms, Qrow mused as he handed over the third cog and reached for the next, the anxiety he normally felt completely, blissfully absent.

Felt the stretch of muscles against his own as Clover worked, his erratic breathing and shakes having steadied a while ago.

One day, he hoped they could come out of this without their demons controlling them.

Yet, he knew recovery was a difficult, haphazard mess of a journey; so that day was in a future he still couldn’t quite discern, no matter how hard he looked.

Not that he could say he was surprised. His life had never been simple and that track record wasn’t going to let up a four decades’ long streak so easily – but, for once, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

For the one brightness he could see in all this was right behind him.

Qrow slid down, just enough to rest his ear against the metal along Clover’s back, the reassuring thump-thump-thump of his heart a gift he’d never waste.

For it beat with the promise that he was here.

He was alive.

And, Qrow recklessly dared to believe, he was his.

Another gift he’d never waste.

A devotion he’d never dishonor.

A love he’d forever hold onto.