#but with the next single seemingly VERY close on the horizon

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 22: Balcony Sex

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky has other ideas while you’re watching fireworks on your hotel balcony.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, public sex/exhibitionism, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” Bucky asks when you sit down, cocktail in hand.

Everyone else in the world views your husband as a dark and twisted man, power to control an entire city at his fingertips and ready to slice a man’s throat at the drop of a hat. But right now, he looks like a sad, abandoned puppy simply because you chose to sit at the other end of the settee.

“Just wanted to take in the view.” You’re seated on the balcony of the presidential suite, seemingly on top of the entire world, with a spectacular view onto a gorgeous white sandy beach of the bay below and the setting sun along the horizon. Bucky chose this particular hotel because of this world famous view, as well as the annual firework show planned for tonight.

“I prefer this view right here.” Bucky scoots closer to you, taking your chin in his fingertips and pressing a very purposeful kiss to your lips. Even though it’s a cheesy line, it doesn’t stop you from involuntarily smiling and warmth blooming in your chest. He doesn’t take his adoration-filled eyes off you for a single second, and even though you still can’t believe that anyone in their right mind could truly find you that beautiful, he certainly gazes at you like you are in fact the goddess he claims you to be.

When you place your drink on the side table, Bucky’s strong hands quickly find your hips, lifting you from your position next to him and placing you on his lap. In his own words, you two can never be too close.

But that can sometimes backfire on him, like in situations just as this one where you’re positioned in just the right spot to wiggle your hips and grind down on his hardening bulge.

You know what you’re doing. You’re no fool.

Well before your honeymoon started you knew exactly how to titillate Bucky Barnes within an inch of his life, and you’re certainly not afraid of using this knowledge to your advantage.

“You thought you could wear this cute little dress and not let me fuck you in it?” Even though you’re not looking at him, Bucky’s voice has that deep eagerness to it, as if it’s almost strained, a quality you’ve come to know with time indicates he’s particularly aroused. “You think the fact that we’re outside would stop me from fucking you senseless?”

His grip on your hips is tight enough to leave bruises as his lips lock onto the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder. You rock your hips over his very evident hard on, desire clouding your mind and simply moving your body in a way you know will make him feel good, which is confirmed when your name leaves his lips in a breathy moan.

“Bucky, please… I need to feel you.”

You immediately hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, the anticipation of what is about to happen flooding you with even more wetness. As he pulls his cock out, you pull your panties to the side, wiggling your hips as you wait for him to fill you.

“So wet and needy for me, and I’ve barely touched you.” As you position yourself on his thighs, Bucky rubs his bulbous tip through your wet folds, coating himself in your arousal. “You just can’t get enough of this fat dick, can you Mrs Barnes?”

His cock splits you apart effortlessly, the burn as you stretch around him melds with the pleasure of feeling so wonderfully full of the man you have vowed to share the rest of your life with.

With the help of Bucky’s strong hands on your hips, you lift yourself up his shaft before impaling yourself back down on it, over and over again until you build up a rhythm. The upbeat and brisk music from the beach below blares through the night as you grind down on your husband’s cock, his thick length hitting all the sweet spots inside you which makes the knot in your stomach wind tighter.

You can feel every veiny inch of him within you, stretching you out deliciously before making you feel gapingly empty as you lift your body. A gravelly moan escapes both your throats each time you sink down on him, when you can’t determine where he stops and you start, feeling like one soul linked for eternity.

“Let go for me baby, I know you wanna cum. Soak me sweetheart.” He reaches around your thigh to toy with your clit with the annoyingly perfect pressure and angle that has you hurtling even quicker towards your inevitable release.

“Holy shit Buck, just like that!” You scream as his dexterous fingers work to make you come undone.

You feel yourself crumbling under his touch, being split in half, taken apart at the seams and you cum with a shout of his name. Your thighs quiver beyond use, but Bucky sees to it that he thrusts his hips vigorously upwards, to compensate for your lack of movement and prolong your high.

“That’s my fucking girl.” If you could hear Bucky’s thoughts at this moment, it would make you cum again in an instant. All he can think about is how ravishing you look, how gorgeous you sound as he bounces you on his cock. That you were made for him, that he would go to the ends of the earth just to feel your warm walls constricting against his shaft, that he’d burn the world down before he let anyone deprive him of the rapture of your existence. That he simply never wants to be apart from you ever again.

Once you’ve come down from what seemed to be an everlasting high, Bucky urges you onto your feet while still inside you, walking you towards the edge of the balcony and you get a glimpse of the crowd celebrating on the beach below.

“Better hold on tight baby.” Your hands steady yourself on the railing of the balcony as you prepare for the onslaught you know is about to be unleashed upon you.

Bucky’s fingers dig into the curve of your hips as he begins fucking into you, his hips meeting your ass at such a speed that your body almost can’t fully process the immeasurable pleasure firing in every one of your neurons at the same time.

“Let me hear you, darling. You sound so pretty when you’re taking my cock - want the whole neighbourhood to hear who’s making you feel this good.”

God, you’re so fucked.

“Oh Bucky… Oh fuck! Oh my God… You’re so fucking deep… Shit!” You can’t help the profanities spilling from your lips as Bucky roughly fucks into you. You’re too caught up in how Bucky’s thick cock drags against your walls and kisses your cervix to give a damn about anyone on the beach below observing you being utterly ravaged by your husband.

Being on the top floor of the hotel, it literally seems like you’re on a cloud of bliss, wave after wave of euphoria cascading over you, suffocating as each of Bucky’s unhinged thrusts knocks all the air from your lungs that you’re head starts to feel dizzy.

“Darling you’re so fucking tight, this pussy is gonna milk every drop outta me.” With each thrust Bucky brings you closer to your second high, his balls slapping against your puffy clit and his thick cock grazes that spongy spot inside you which makes your vision blurry. “Be a good little slut and cum on your husband's cock in front of all those people.”

That familiar tightness quickly develops in your lower stomach, a promising indicator you’re hurtling towards your release, as you grip the metal railing for dear life. You scream into the dark night with the sheer intensity of your orgasm as the firework show sparks to life in the sky in front of you. Bucky’s name and obscenities are all drowned out by the loud crackles of the pyrotechnics, your body putty in his hands as he doesn’t let up, both extending your own orgasm and chasing his own.

Your legs feel like jelly and your throat is hoarse as Bucky’s thrusts begin to stutter, his vice grip on your waist somehow growing tighter. The sky illuminates with gold chrysanthemum fireworks as you hear Bucky growl behind you, pouring all his warm seed into you.

Bucky pulls out of you and encircles your waist, tugging you back into him as you watch the firework display decorate the sky. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder once the show ends with blinding blue and pink explosions, and cheers from the crowd below.

“Pinch me.” You request, and you can both hear Bucky chuckle and feel the reverberations of his chest against your back as he does so.

“Why?”

“Just wanna make sure this honeymoon hasn’t been some elaborate dream I’m about to wake up from.” Bucky turns you around as the wind sweeps his hair from his face, his smirk completely intoxicating, a lustful hunger and a blazing yearning so evident in those ocean eyes, you can perceive it even in the blanketing darkness of the night.

“I can assure you darling this is no dream. But I have a much more alluring way of proving it to you than by a simple pinch.”

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[cheesus-doodles]

The Flag We Serve Under: Chapter 4

Yandere Azur Lane

Masterlist

‎‎‎

< Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

hello! not dead, but kinda busy - TR will be back next week :)

Something was off. 

There was no question about that fact in your mind, your unusually silent phone gripped tightly in hand even as you tried your best to push the uncomfortable feeling to the back of your head temporarily and refocus your attention on the present. And standing atop the highest natural point, surveying the seemingly endless blanket of pink cherry blossoms that covered the Sakura Nation’s mainland far below your feet, it would have been all too easy to do so, to push such turbulent thoughts aside and away.

After all, it was a respite from the turmoil and turbulence of the world outside of these isles; here, your troubles seemed so far away. There was no headquarters, no officers breathing down your neck, no subordinates clamoring for your time and attention for one matter or another. The breeze that swept through your hair rustled the leaves gently as you allowed yourself to bask in the stillness, the sounds of life just barely starting to echo up from the streets a stone’s throw away. It was peaceful, a tranquility you could barely remember from a time before joining the Azur Lane that sang in your veins, a slight floral scent that permeated the very air tickling at your nose.

On the far side of the island, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, the light of dawn staining the clouds and gentle distant waves with pastel colors. 

You could stay here, you mused, a nice long vacation away from your exhausting schedule, if not forever. 

But one glance back at the battle-worn aircraft carrier far out from the island where it was docked, a mere speck floating atop calm, azure seas from this distance, was enough to shake you from your momentary delusions; you were here to do a job. A highly sensitive mission, and it was too quiet. Unnaturally so. 

You weren’t the only one who thought as such either, you noted, spotting Enterprise frown down similarly at her phone out of the corner of your eye, the white of her hair catching the sunlight as she lifted the small device higher into the sky in a bid to get a signal, and your mind returned to your initial conundrum as you glanced down at your own phone once more. Why couldn’t you reach anyone back at base, or anywhere else for that matter? Could anyone reach you?

The lack of the endless notification of messages and updates that usually plague your phone was noticeably gone, but you were sure that it wasn’t just yours and Enterprise’s whose signals have been (allegedly) jammed. Chancing a glimpse back at the two quiet Sakura light cruisers girls standing behind you, their gazes respectfully lowered from yours. Kawakaze and Noshiro, you reminded yourself - why didn’t they have communicators? Or rather, why didn’t it seem like they were using any? Not a single cackle of static, or a mumble of acknowledgement, or even the accidental ping of a message since you had arrived on the island last evening: no doubt the sudden electronic void it was starting to get to you.

“Is there something wrong, Commander?” Nagato’s child-like voice pierced through your thoughts like an arrow, and you startled back to reality, stumbling backwards slightly at the realization of just how close those amber eyes were to yours. You hadn’t even heard her arrive. And when did she get so close?

“Ah- La-Nagato,” was all you managed to stammer out in your shock, before you caught yourself, straightening up to your full height. “You’re up early.” Your first mistake of the day. The embarrassment at your stupid straight-forward observation instantly set in, and you felt like you had put your foot straight into your mouth. Sure, you were attempting to avoid her question, still in the midst of considering whether you should bring up your connectivity troubles to someone that Headquarters has time and time again labeled as enemies, but to say something so lame? In front of the Sakura Emperor?

But the other did not take offense nor laugh at your trip up, the black-haired girl instead seeming to study your face carefully before replying. “I was informed that you had left your accommodation before day break, and I came to meet you at the earliest possible time,” she clarified, her small hands folding neatly over the red of her dress, though she made no move to back away. “I apologize if I have startled you, Commander.”

You waved off her apologies, straightening your own officer coat. “No, it’s fine, I was just a little surprised.” And then, you hesitated - your second mistake. 

Cursing internally, you didn’t miss her right fox ear twitching slightly as you answered, nor the brief questioning look she threw at Kawakaze and Noshiro before her attention returned to you. “So is there something wrong, Commander?” Her voice this time more firm, the demand clear in her tone.

Fuck fuck fuck. You should have known better than to take this conversation with Nagato head-on unprepared - even in your dealings with her all those years ago, she had always been sharp as an arrow and well-versed in the game of politics. How could she not be, having to handle not only those of her court but also the likes of Iron Blood and Vichya Dominion? The sudden tension was heavy on your shoulders as you tried your best to keep your gaze unwavering from her pointed one, your thoughts a turbulent sea in your mind even amidst the now-uncomfortable silence. What now? What should you do?

You wished that you could have more time to turn the situation over a few times over your books, have the opportunity to consult with your senior office or Alabama, or just to think about it a while longer. The reality of the situation, however, was that the strain between you and the Sakura Emperor had spread to the other shipgirls gathered on the hilltop, and the hostility was threatening to spill over. Spotting Enterprise just to your right, her once-relaxed stance now taut with tension, narrowed violet eyes scanning the two light cruiser girls flanking Nagato, there was no doubt. Even if none had yet to summon their riggings, you knew your time was ticking. What you had in your hands was a live bomb, and you had to solve this. Now. 

Taking a breath, you swallowed your anxiety and made your decision.

‎

The world finally breathed again as you held out one hand, signaling to Enterprise to stand down. “We’ve been having some issues with contacting anyone at base since last night,” you confirmed, your gaze shifting off of Nagato to glance warily at Kawakaze and Noshiro still in their alert position, hands resting lightly on their sheathed weapons. You could hope that you had made the right decision to divulge such sensitive information; after all, in the right hands, it was a glaring vulnerability. “I thought it might have been a one-off issue, but it is starting to get concerning that I can’t get a signal, even on the highest point I could find.” 

You trusted Nagato not to exploit the weakness you had just handed her on a silver platter, but despite that, you still had your own nagging suspicions; you couldn’t have absolute certainty that the Sakura Empire hadn’t cut its own connections to the outside world upon your arrival to the island nation. Why they would do that was beyond you, given Naval Headquarters was aware that you were here, but it was too far-fetched. And it seemed the black-haired girl in front of you understood the unspoken implications immediately, fox ears swirling to face forward even as those amber eyes remained steely. “The lines are working fine. I have spoken recently with Prinz Eugen from Iron Blood. Perhaps there was no one to answer when you rang because of the time differences, but I’m certain that you’ll get a reply soon.”

Of course you doubted that; at the very least Alabama would have picked up no matter what time of day - you knew she would be worried sick if you didn’t ring her the minute you arrived. But you didn’t want to call Nagato a liar outright and certainly not to her face, opting to accept her reasoning at face value until either you had the bandwidth to investigate further or drop the matter upon your departure. Whatever came first. You simply nodded, opting to say nothing more on the matter and slipped your phone quietly back into the pocket of your skirt. “Alright, I’ll try again later.”

Enterprise, however, wasn’t convinced. “Commander, but-”

“It’s fine, Enterprise,” you repeated, bodily turning to throw a stern glance at the uneasy aircraft carrier, who fell silent. You understood her, but this wasn’t the right time, and even if she was a well-respected veteran, you were still the commander. Once more, returning to face the short-statured emperor, you kept your expression as leveled as you could manage, unwilling to show any further weaknesses. “Will your entourage not be at ease? I assure you we are unarmed.” Or as unarmed as an aircraft carrier without her riggings on could be, at least.

“At ease, Kawakaze, Noshiro,” the other immediately commanded, and said light cruisers relaxed their stance, arms falling back to their sides.

“I had a look at the schedule yesterday, Nagato, but I understand there have been some changes?” 

Nagato waved at you, inviting you to walk with her, her massive riggings swinging smoothly aside to give you space as the bells that decorated her dress jingled lightly. “Yes, there has been. I have another urgent meeting to attend, and Akagi is eager to meet you over breakfast. I shall join you once my meeting has concluded.”

‎

‎

Despite the arduously trained self-control that Nagato is known for, every one of the carefully constructed walls in her mind, built to keep her emotions at bay, was on the verge of catastrophic collapse as she pushed past Kawakaze, black hair streaming out behind her. ”I messed up I messed up I messed up-” The words mumbled repeatedly under her breath echoed her own spiraling thoughts as the forest of cherry blossom trees overhead gave way to traditional houses, tiled roofs shimmering slightly in the light of the morning sun.

It had been five minutes since she had left you outside the doors of the meeting hall where Akagi and Kaga were waiting, along with Noshiro to watch over you. 

The sun was creeping ever higher into the sky, the pink of dawn having faded away into a cloudless blue sky. Hearing the hurried steps of her personal handmaiden attempting to catch up did little to slow her own pace, not with Nagato being hardly in the right headspace to bother.  What had just happened was an absolute disaster, to say the least, and it took everything she had left to stop the tears from welling up and spilling over right that instance. 

She thought you would be proud of her for putting on a brave, professional front in front of Enterprise, after all that that white-haired carrier had done to the Sakura Empire - instead, all she saw was the stern glint in your eyes as you failed to praise her or pat her head like you always did, and even rebuked her entourage. Were you mad at her? Why were you siding with that Eagle Union ship instead of her? Have you already forgotten everything that you had gone through together?

A sniff snuck out before she could stop it, and Nagato hurriedly pressed her sleeve to her nose, turning one final corner onto a quiet, narrow alley and away from the growing crowds along the main streets; the last thing she wanted was for her subjects to see their Emperor in such a pathetic state. Barely noticing as she swept past the ancient stone walls marking the transition from public place to her private abode at the end of a small, unassuming street, the ambient sounds of life faded away into the background as the architecture style of buildings around the two aged. The black-haired girl, lost in her thoughts, continued to trod silently down the meandering path, her feet bringing her to the majestic wooden hall at the end of the walkway.

The pair of slippers left neatly on the steps in front of the silk screen doors of the reception room was the only sign that her guest had already arrived. The emperor hastened to remove her own - it would be rude to keep guests waiting any longer, after all - though she did pause to instruct Kawakaze to return to your side, before sliding open the doors and disappearing inside. She would rather not find out what Akagi would get up to if she kept her attention off of the fox-tailed aircraft carrier for too long, even more so around you.

‎

The private reception room was simply yet tastefully decorated, just as Nagato liked it. A traditional Sakura style, the emperor picked her way across the tatami mats that she knew like the back of her hand, the dark cherry wood with its small but delicate flourishes combined with screens decorated with cranes and flowers enough to bring a certain grandeur to the room. Rounding the corner, the back of a black-purple coat was what took up most of her vision, with the tall lady wearing it faced away from the entrance, though it was clear that she was aware of the newcomer, those equally large fox ears twitching slightly at the footsteps that echoed across the otherwise silent room.

With speed that was rather unbecoming of royalty, Nagato quickly moved to join her at the table, folding her legs under her as she sat. ”I apologize for my tardiness, Musashi. There was an unexpected delay.”

But much to her surprise, said woman only moved to take a sip of steaming tea before those bronze eyes turned to meet amber ones. “Why the suppressed tears, child?”

It wasn’t a question Nagato was expecting, and she blinked. How did she know? “I told you, I am no child, Musashi,” the black-haired girl finally managed to protest, though her indignation did not last long as she found herself swept up and pressed into the other’s large bosom, nor did she deny. Compared with the Yamato-class Battleship, even the weight of her riggings was barely a deterrent.

Musashi simply smiled at the objection as she kept up her stroking, gently running one hand over Nagato’s silky hair in a calming gesture. It reminded Nagato greatly of the same way you would pat her head to the point that she wondered if perhaps the two of you had met before, before shaking off the ludicrous idea - no, there was no way. “You can tell me anything,” the taller of the two soothed. “Your safe haven is here.” 

The larger battleship’s assurance was enough for the usually stoic Sakura Emperor to cave, allowing her emotions to well up and show on her face - the first in a while. “I think I made her mad,” Nagato found herself whimpering out into Musashi’s dress, tiny fists clenched around black fur tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. The world seemed to fall completely silent, the smaller girl doing her best to bite back and swallow down any other sounds of distress, though several still managed to slip out; even if she was allowed to be vulnerable in the privacy of this reception room, it just wasn’t very like her to do so. But she simply couldn’t get her thoughts off of you - what if you hated her? What if you wanted nothing more to do with her?

“This person who you supposedly made angry,” Musashi’s voice broke both the stillness and the thoughts swirling around in her  tumultuous mind. “Is it the commander that the Azur Lane sent for negotiations?”

Nagato felt her nerves calm a little - the lack of admonishment coming from her trusted advisor on her moment of weakness was comforting. She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

A hum, as the other pondered for a moment. “I saw her arrival yesterday evening, but I’m afraid I have not had the chance to make her acquaintance. Why do you think you made her mad?”

At that moment, all the turmoil reared its head again. “She- she didn’t side with me.” But even as Nagato spoke out, she felt her cheeks flush - Musashi was right, she sounded so childish. Yet what  ugly, ugly jealousy churning in her gut failed to fade.  “She chastised me for not keeping Kawakaze and Noshiro in order.” 

“I see.” A pause, and the two took the time to sip at their tea.

“But let us put that matter aside,” the Sakura Emperor finally continued, delicately placing her cup back down on the spotless wooden table. “I assume there is something that you wished to bring to my attention urgently, Musashi.”

“Indeed. We can take this up personally with the Commander at a later time. You do not have to do this alone, I shall be there with you to settle this matter,” Even as Musashi acknowledged the change in topic, the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips didn’t drop with the increase in severity of the matter they were discussing. “Two Iron Blood ships have been spotted within Sakura territorial waters, but they did not get close enough for the patrol to positively identify them.”

‎

‎

Back across the high seas, the clear night sky studded with stars stretched out to meet the ocean’s abyss horizon in the distance, the remaining lights that dotted the empty streets of the forward base reflected in the bobbing waves splashing up against stone seawalls. Yet, it was peaceful seas and tranquil darkness that hid the turmoil churning just under the surface - this much South Dakota was certain of. Most of the shipgirls had long gone to bed, save for those on night watch, though even their patrols wouldn’t bring them to this isolated part of the island. 

So why was she here? The tanned battleship let out a sigh, leaning back onto the wall, her black hair shimmering as it caught a stray silver of yellow light from the nearest lamp. She wasn’t even on duty tonight, and tomorrow was no doubt going to be an equally long day. It was nothing more than a gut feel that led her to wait here, and she was starting to question it as the minutes ticked by. But right as South Dakota was about to call it quits and retire for the night, a rustle of leaves and a sudden flash of white ponytails caught her eye amidst the clumps of bushes. Bingo.

Standing from where she had been seated all these hours, the Eagle Union ship stretched, allowing the satisfied grunt to leave her lips, making her presence known. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Alabama barely slowed in her trudge across the grassy area. “Where do you think I’m going?” Came Alabama’s response, her white coat flourishing as she swung it around, slipping it on in one graceful movement as she stalked past her older sister with no hesitation. 

No response was needed - both of them already knew what the answer was. And she understood where her youngest sister was coming from, she really did. It was impossible to miss the heavy tension that weighed down every room Alabama entered after she had returned without you, the same weight that only grew with every passing hour.

A few quick steps was all it took for South Dakota to catch up to the white-haired girl even with the other’s long, fast strides, and one more was enough for her to blockade the other’s path. “I can’t let you leave. Orders from the Commander.” 

That last phase didn’t sit well at all with Alabama as she tried to step past South Dakota. “The Commander is missing,” the last word practically hissed.

But the older of the two wasn’t phased. “Missing is a rather strong word.” South Dakota might have been a new transfer to your command as well to this particular forward base, but there was no doubt about one thing. She knew above all else that Alabama was extremely attached to you, and she was in turn your closest confidant, having been together right from the start of your journey as a Fleet Commander. “Have you at least passed this by Bunker Hill?”

“I’m her secretary,” with the unspoken question of why she needs to pass anything by said carrier, despite Alabama knowing full well that it was the other in charge of the Eagle Union division of your fleet up until your return and not her. 

South Dakota tried again. “She has an escort, doesn’t she?”

A pause, before the older of the two felt the tension in the air grow. “I’m going to find her.” Oops. Seems like that was the wrong question.

South Dakota sighed, this time moving to grab her sister’s arm. “I can’t let you. Commander’s orders.” She had been warned beforehand by Bunker Hill of the probability of Alabama sneaking off as she was passing down your orders, and the battleship could only guess that Bunker Hill herself had in turn been forewarned by you. Whatever mission you were on, it was certainly extremely classified if you were taking such precautions.

Yet, the tanned black-haired woman mused as Alabama started to struggle in her grip, she had also heard of the stories about you and your past that floated around Naval HQ, passed between the other commanders and shipgirls. It was something that she was certain Alabama remained unaware about just yet. But it wasn’t her place to tell the youngest of the South Dakota-class battleships and get herself into unimaginable trouble that only god knows about, instead opting to turn her attention back to the current brewing storm. “She just could be busy.”

“She hasn’t picked up her phone in two days, not even a text,” Alabama retorted. “Something’s wrong.”

“Have you tried calling again?”

“The whole day,” Alabama snapped back, the ire that had been hiding beneath her unbothered exterior finally rearing up, though at least she did stop trying to break free. “What makes you think I haven’t been trying again and again?”

The namesake of the class only sighed. “Look, how about we bring this up to Bunker Hill first? You don’t even know where to start looking.”

Red eyes stiffly met gold ones, as if assessing whether the other’s intentions were genuine. It was clear just how protective Alabama was of you, this much was certain, but there were better ways to go about elevating her concerns rather than rushing out into the abyss of the oceans. The chirping of insects, accompanied by the soft symphony of the waves, was all that filled the night as the two finally turned to head back towards the base, with South Dakota sticking closely to her youngest sister.

Whatever the next day brought, it was bound to be downhill from here for a while.

[fluffywings13]

I'm not Leaving you. I'm here. Right here.

A small bit from a fic I'm working on.

“Shh child, it’s okay. It’s okay, little one, it’s alright. I’m not leaving you. I’m never going to leave you, Yuuji.” For a child who’s been abandoned by the world in the span of mere months, lost everything in a far too literal sense, watched as his world was forever altered and crumbled. Itadori Yuuji finally breaking was an event that was long expected but never enough to plan for the fallout that would come of it and was there ever a fall out. “Hush, child, settle your tears and mind.”

They all knew the day Sukuna regained enough of his Power to take his form back as he was originally before his downfall was drawing ever nearer with every finger they’d found and he ingested. The sense of his cursed energy continually growing in potency day by day was an increasingly worrying notion that the separation between Curse and Vessel was going to come to fruition far sooner than originally anticipated.

War had been on the Horizon.

Not a single soul in the equation considered the impact there would be when Sukuna parted ways from one Itadori Yuuji, never was the thought humored on any mind that he’d shatter at the loss of the only Constant he’s had in the last months that seemingly changed with every waking moment, it was not a humored idea because no one ever thought to expect the boy to want Sukuna to remain at his side.

“Why….Why���Everyone keeps leaving me! Dad left! Mom–Kenjaku–whatever left! Gramps left! Now you! Everyone keeps leaving! Why does everyone keep leaving me!”

….

Now the question remained, little Itadori responded to absolutely no one outside of the very being that was the cause for a vast majority of his suffering, curled around the large being’s front with a pair of arms under his rump to keep him there. Yuuji is found to be sound asleep, as if to be caught so vulnerable in the arms of one Sukuna; King Of Curses the notion is one that had never been thought to be entertained.

What were they to do now?

“If I move even a sliver to set him down, the brat’s going to awaken, and considering what steps were required of me to get him this way I’ll continue my role in this unexpected next course of action standing here. Continue with the conversations.” Nobody misses the way the Curse rubs a massive hand down the back of the youth sleeping against him and Sukuna glares. “I don’t repeat myself. Discuss.”

“It's safe to say that no one here expected this reaction from the boy. Considering how problematic their relationship was initially it is a mind boggling aspect that the child would become so distraught at the thought of losing the Curse.” The Principal speaks for the Sorcerers as a group because he does not doubt the others abilities to offend the aforementioned Curse and while Sukuna seemed to be of the mindset to avoid making any unnecessary movements as to keep from waking Itadori as he finally procures what it surely the best sleep he's gotten in a long time it also stands to say that Sukuna still has abilities of his own that he's kept maintained in their secrecy close to the chest and finding out just what carnage he could rain upon them whilst still holding the boy in his arms just as fast asleep as he is now is not something he wishes to find enlightenment in that aspect. “But at the same moment, in the same train of thought, I can understand Itadori's seeming Imprintation type attachment he's formed with Sukuna. The boy's lost his entire family, everything he's ever truly known, and for the last months Sukuna himself has truly been the only real stable constant he's had this entire time.”

Ever protective of his students and seeing no humor in the situation presently at hand. Gojo Satoru is understandably unusually serious at the moment. “You can't honestly be suggesting what I think you're saying, right? Tell me I'm reading the room wrong.” Yuuji stirs where he's drolling only slightly on the King Of Curses shoulder, smacking his lips as one does when suddenly arroused from what had been a deep content sleep, he doesn't so much as outwardly flinch when Sukuna glares at him murderously before diverting his attentions to settling the boy back into his much needed slumber. The Limitless User does however feel guilty for disturbing the poor kiddo into nearly waking from a nice deep sleep he so very much needed. “Trusting Sukuna to take care of little Yuuji without shared parenting at the very least.”

[starlightrows]

16 — Determinant

Hiding In Plain Sight

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Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Hospitals, illness, pandemic, grief

Summary: The galaxy is devastated by the illness stemming from Atraken. Wolffe struggles to cope with the very real possibility that you won’t survive.

Countless days have passed since you collapsed and Wolffe received the news about what they’re calling The Shadow of Atraken that has swept the galaxy seemingly overnight. He’s existed in a sort of liminal space this entire time, stretching on endlessly with no thought as to when or how there could ever be an end to it.

When he first got the news he and Sinker were already en route to getting you to the closest medical frigate. Upon arriving the triage team just confirmed what Rex had already communicated to them before to not administer any bacta and rerouted them to Naboo. Apparently the frigate was already full, there was not a single bed available to take another patient and barely enough medical staff to treat the soldiers already there.

Wolffe can’t remember anything about the trip front he frigate to Naboo. Looking back now it was like he blinked and you were being transferred into a bed, in a hospital room in Theed. That’s where you’ve been ever since. He and Slush have been camped out in this room with you for what must be weeks by now.

They’ve heard from others that The Republic is in utter chaos with nearly all of their medical staff affected by this disease. Many of them now dead or dying. There have also been reports that The Separatists are in a similar state. The war seems to have come to a strange stalemate, neither side wanting to take the offensive move in their severely weakened state.

Wolffe has no idea what he’s doing at this point. He was not given an order to take you to the medical frigate. He wouldn’t consider the advise of a frantic triage nurse to come to Naboo to be orders either. And he certainly has not received orders to stay here for weeks on end with you. He never thought he was the sort to abandon his post or disobey orders…. But what is there to do when there are no orders?

It’s like being in a waiting room or standing in line in a queue. Waiting for what though? For you to wake up and kiss him good morning? For him to wake up and find that this was all a terrible dream? For your heart rate monitor to stop beeping as you draw your last breath? He chokes back the bile that creeps into the back of his throat when he catches himself thinking of that possibility. He stands with such speed and urgency he gets dizzy and has to grit his teeth and close his eyes to reorient himself.

“Wolffe?” Slush’s voice is distant and hollow. He’s been perched on the day bed tucked into the window all day, looking out over the water.

“What is it?”

“We should com General Plo today” he doesn’t take his eyes off of the horizon.

When they arrived they had com’d The Radiant to let them know where they were and pass along what little information they had. In return they had repeated all the rumors and gossip that had begun circulating. At the time they had not heard from General Plo, and neither had Wolffe. He had thought about reaching out to General Plo. Reporting in. That is what you are supposed to do when the plan changes. But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t stand the thought of receiving orders that took him away from you. He had already seen it happen to others in this hospital.

But he knew that he couldn’t hide from that com call forever. And he couldn’t expect Slush to humor him forever either. Wolffe sighed and hung his head, “Yeah. I’ll step out for some air and make the call”

Slush nodded and stood up wordlessly, moving across the room to take the seat right next to you that Wolffe had been sitting in. They hadn’t discussed it at any point, but neither of them wanted you to be alone right now, so if one had to leave for any reason they other would be in the chair. Right at your arm in case you woke up.

Sometimes you did wake up. Your eyes would move behind your eyelids for a few minutes before fluttering open. You might only be awake for a couple minutes at a time but you could nod your head a bit, rasp out a few words maybe. Mostly you would stare up at Wolffe when he was near, hold his fingers with whatever grip strength you could muster.

Wolffe allowed Slush to take his place and slipped out of the room. The halls of this hospital are haunting. Almost no one speaks but it is filled with noise. The sounds of heart rate monitors, ventilators, droids moving around to attend patients, the clicking, beeping and whirring of medical equipment filled the space. In stark contrast, the sun shone brightly just beyond the front doors. The air was warm and the world seems to mock him with pleasant bird song and the gentle lapping of the waves.

Wolffe walked away from the hospital and sat on a boulder, staring down at his com device. He tapped it his hands a few times. What was he going to say? Hello general, I’ve regained my senses and am reporting for duty, please don’t decommission me for going AWOL for the last several weeks?

Fuck it. It can’t get any worse at this point. Whatever consequences are coming his way will come regardless. Might as well face the music and accept them. He dialed General Plo’s chain code and waited for an answer.

“Commander Wolffe” General Plo’s visage appeared in the holorgram

“General” he sat up a little straighter “I apologize for my lack of communication I—“

“I am aware of the situation involving the Captain. How is she now?” He asked

Wolffe was shocked, he had assumed that he would be ordered to return to The Radiant immediately. “She… she’s in no better state than the rest of them. Fading a little more each day it seems”

“I suppose it was a fools hope that she was the exception to this crisis and well on her way to a full recovery. Still, we must be grateful that she is still with us” General Plo says

“Sir… I have to admit, I don’t want to leave her here on her own. I know that Slush and I aren’t really doing anything to help at all”

“On the contrary commander. Your presence may be helping to ground her. Reminding her of what she is fighting stay for”

“Sir?”

“I understand that you are likely expecting to be ordered to return. But to be honest with you, there is really no point in doing so. The 104th was ordered to remain on The Radiant and given no further instruction, I see no point in leaving one of our own alone only to have you wait for news here. For the time being, your orders are to remain on Naboo with her and Slush. And let me know should anything change”

“Y-yes sir. Thank you sir”

The com call ended. Wolffe didn’t move from his spot for a long while, he just stared out across the water. The first time he had met General Plo, a few months before the destruction of The Triumphant, he never would have thought that he would be in a situation like this. He hadn’t thought about The Triumphant in a very long time. He didn’t like to think about it. All of the brothers he lost that day. Hundreds of them. He wishes he could remember every one of their names. Or maybe he doesn’t want to remember their names, it makes the pain of their loss more tangible. The sun began to set and Wolffe found himself following the familiar path back into the hospital and up to your room. He takes Slushes previous spot at the window, continuing to sit in these blackened memories.

He thinks of Mav. Mav was one of the first losses that felt tangible. He knew Mav. He was young, a shiny with Cricket and Jag. But he always seemed older and wiser than his batch mates. He was smart, funny, took criticism and orders well, he was a good team member. And he was brave. Brave enough to run into the spray of blaster fire to shut the gates that saved nearly a thousand people that were hiding behind the walls of that city.

But this. This is different. You are different. You’re not one of his brothers or even a fellow soldier any more. You are so much more than that now. His person. His other half. He knows you better than he even knows himself in some ways. The thought of losing you makes his stomach drop and his blood run cold. The thought of losing you makes a sense of panic rise in his chest, gripping him with a fear that threatens to eat him alive. Becausing losing you means losing the only parts of the life that he feels are worth living for.

“What did General Plo say?” Slush asks into the painful silence that had settled into the room once more

Wolffe swallows the lump that’s formed in the back of this throat. He hadn’t realized how close he was to tears until he tried to speak. He clears his throat again “He uh… he said we are to remain here. There is no point in us going back to The Radiant when there is nothing for us to do there…. And it’s better that someone be here with her”

Slush shifts his gaze from where it’s been fixed on your hand to Wolffe sitting on the window bench. The last of the light from outside illuminating his brother's tense face and to his surprise, tears forming in his eyes.

“Wolffe?” Slush sits up in his chair

Wolffe clears his throat again and turns his body towards the window, shielding his face from Slush’s view. Slush stands from the chair and crosses over to the window, setting himself down across from his brother. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just looks back at you, laying so still but your chest still rising and falling with gentle breath.

“When you were laying in a bed like that, recovering from your injury, she didn’t leave your side either. Day and night she looked after you. When you woke up and were… struggling to cope… she wept at the thought of losing you” he says, leaning back against the glass “That’s when I knew”

Wolffe wipes a hand over his face, really having to work to keep this emotions at bay. “Yeah well, it’s not going to matter soon. Me loving her won’t save her from this”

“It matters” Slush says simply

“She could do something when it was me. She… threatened or bargained or extorted someone to save me. She fought for me, even if I didn’t deserve it” suddenly the first tear tracks down his cheek “She fucking fought for me. And I can’t fight for her. There’s nothing for me to fucking do! She’s slipping through my fingers and I can’t do a fucking thing about it”

Slush’s heart aches. You are his best friend. This feeling of helplessness has consumed him the last few weeks. But seeing his commander, his brother, break down this way brings on a new depth of pain. But he couldn’t accept it.

“She’s a fighter. She’s holding on with everything she has. For you” Slush says, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder “Keep giving her something to hold on to. Don’t give in”

Wolffe hesitates for a beat, then pats Slush’s hand on his shoulder in thanks. He swallows the lump in his throat and nods. He’s right. He knows that Slush is right. You’re still alive when others have died. You’re still able to open your eyes a couple times a day and speak if you have the energy. You are a fighter. You fought for him. You’re still fighting for him, to stay with him.

A few days later, while sitting in the chair by your side he’s roused from a nap he didn’t realize he was nodding off into, his com begins buzzing. It takes him a moment to make the connection that the chaincode is Rex. He stands quickly and steps out into the hallway to answer.

“Rex, this better be good news” he says without a real greeting, continuing to walk down the hall so he won’t disturb others in the hospital, or reveal anything if Rex’s communication needs to be kept private.

Rex wastes no time, “Do you remember that mission on Naboo I told you about, where I almost died of Blue Shadow plague?”

“Vaguely. Why?” Wolffe tries desperately to remember what his brother had told him of that situation or any details from the report if he even read it.

“Apparently this disease is very similar” Rex continues

“Okay, and what does that mean?” Wolffe wants him to hurry up and get to the point.

“Well, hopefully if someone collects a large enough sample from the source, a cure can be synthesized from the vaccine we already have from Blue Shadow” Rex explains, trailing off at the end

“But….” Wolffe prompts him

“But it means going down to the surface of Atraken…” Rex finally says

Wolffe grits his teeth and closes his eyes. He saw the holo images. He heard from you and many others what is left of the planet’s surface. “Fuck” he mutters “They aren’t going to authorize a mission are they?”

“General Skywalker is leading this mission, so authorization wasn’t even part of the discussion” Rex rolls his eyes tiredly “But regardless of that, the mission is volunteer only. General Skywalker will not order anyone to participate in this mission”

“Aside from the obvious, what are the risks?” Wolffe ventures to ask

“The odds of finding enough source material are slim as it is. The protective gear we have will work to prevent us from contracting the disease, but not for long. If we succeed we’ll be treated with the vaccine that is synthesized and we’ll save as many of the afflicted as we can. If we fail. They will all die, and so will the mission crew” Rex says “It’s a very narrow chance of success. But it is the only chance to save our people”

“Fuck… how many people are on the mission?” Wolffe asks

“Right now? Three. General Skywalker, Ahsoka and me” Rex says “We’re on our way to Naboo now to pick up the protective equipment that was left from Blue Shadow. The offer is open if you want to volunteer”

Wolffe nods “When are you due to arrive?”

“Tomorrow morning” Rex pauses “How is she?”

“It’s not good,” Wolffe admits, your condition has deteriorated the last few days. You’re less aware when you are awake, and your support needs have increased tenfold just in the last few days. “How’s Kix?”

“Could go tomorrow, could be a week, could be a month” Rex sighs “Latest reports are saying that the death rate is rising quickly. This mission has to happen now or it will be too late”

There is quiet between them for a moment. Too late. It’s already too late for so many. And there will be no chance to save any of them if the mission fails.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” Wolffe says finally before hanging up the com

Wolffe goes back inside and wanders back to your room. This is it. This is how he can fight for you. But it means leaving you. It means there would be a chance that you lose this fight, without him there for you. H

He’s so wrapped up in these thoughts that he doesn’t notice the door to your room is open and there’s voices coming from inside.

“General?” Wolffe is surprised to see General Plo Koon standing by your bedside, talking to Slush.

“Hello Commander” General Plo says, turning to greet him

“Are there new orders sir?” Wolffe stands straight and feels dread collecting in his chest

“No, as of right now all focus seems to be on finding a cure and ensuring that no one else is affected” He explains, “I came for her, and for you”

That was unexpected, “For me?”

“Yes, I know of General Skywalker's plan to return to Atraken. And I know they will be making a stop here to collect the supplies they need” He says, measured and careful as always “Captain Rex just spoke to you I assume?”

“Are you here to stop them sir?” Slush asks, before Wolffe could answer.

“Not at all. I don’t think my interference would matter regardless” he chuckles “Skywalker and Ahsoka are a relentless pair”

“Rex offered me the chance to go with them” Wolffe admits

“I sense your conflicted feelings Wolffe” General Plo observes. Wolffe doesn’t know what to say. Of course he does feel conflicted but how could he possibly explain

General Plo strides towards the door, beckoning Wolffe to follow. Wolffe steals a glance at you and turns to follow General Plo. They walk together down the quiet halls and out into the evening. General Plo does not speak, he leads them down to the edge of the water and looks out towards the setting sun.

“This war has deprived us of many of life’s pleasures, especially the simplest ones like sunsets and good company” General Plo says

“Yes, I suppose so sir” Wolffe agrees, though he is not finding much pleasure in this particular sunset

“Tomorrow, when General Skywalker and Ahsoka leave for Atraken, will you be with them?”

Wolffe glares out at the pink and purple hues that paint the horizon. The answer should be simple. But it isn’t, there is no part of this that is simple. “If you order me to go, I will” he says

“I can not. It is not my mission to send you on” he says “But neither will I order you to stay. This is your choice Wolffe”

He shakes his head, “I wish it wasn’t. It’s an impossible choice to make”

“In your mind, what is the worst possible result of you abstaining from this mission?”

“The mission fails… all of the doctors and nurses and medics will die”

“And if you go?”

“She will die while I’m gone… the mission could fail regardless” there’s nothing left to lose, might as well just admit the whole truth “I don’t want her to die”

“No one wants the ones they love to pass. That is a truth of life. But the time comes for each and every one of us to rejoin the living force eventually”

“That time can’t be now. It just can’t”

General Plo turns and looks at Wolffe. “Love is a powerful thing Commander. Love can motivate people to do great things. Surviving despite the odds, or taking a chance against even greater odds”

Wolffe looked up at General Plo with a horrified expression, he hadn’t intended to reveal the relationship or that he loved you. He had kept it a secret for over two years… or so he thought.

“Sir?”

“No need to worry or explain” General Plo replied, placing a gentle hand on Wolffe’s shoulder “Your affection for one another is well masked. But I have known you both for a long time, your connection is unmistakable in the force”

“If I leave her she could die alone and I… wouldn’t be there to say goodbye”

“You have always been a good soldier, a good commander, a good man Wolffe. I know you will make the right choice” General Plo gives his shoulder a squeeze and goes back inside.

The sun has set, but Wolffe stands rooted to the spot. He turns the options and the conversation with General Plo over and over and over in his mind. But there is a clear choice. There only ever was one choice. One path forward. He has to go.

He wants very desperately to be selfish, to stay with you until the bitter end and ensure that you leave this world, that’s done nothing but hurt you, in peace. But he has a duty to you, to protect you. And a duty to The Republic. If there is a chance he can save you by going on this mission, he has to take it.

With his decision made, he makes his way back up to the room. General Plo has taken his spot in the chair at her side, Slush watches from his perch at the window. They both look up when he enters the room.

“I’m leaving with Rex” he says “It’s the only chance we have to save them”

General Plo stands first and places both hands on his shoulders “A worthy choice commander. The path ahead will be dangerous, make sure to acknowledge your feelings as they come and let them pass to keep a clear head. May The Force be with you”

“Thank you General… for everything”

General Plo gives him a nod and steps out of the room. Slush stands from the window and comes to stand by Wolffe, looking down at you with a sad smile.

“I never should have let her leave that day on Denarian Prime. None of this would have happened” Wolffe says

“It’s not your fault. What were you going to do? Disobey orders? Keep her with us and hope no one noticed? You would have been court martialed” Slush shakes his head

“I have to do this,” Wolffe whispers. “I’m running the risk of letting her die alone on the slim chance of finding a cure. But I have to do this”

Slush looks away from your sleeping form to his brother, his best friend. “Even a slim chance has hope to succeed” he says “And even if it is her time to go, she won’t be alone. I’m not going anywhere”

“Thank you” Wolffe nods “Rex will be here soon. Do you mind giving me a couple minutes with her?”

“Of course” Slush nods, and quietly leaves the room letting the door shut behind him. Wolffe pulls the seat closer to the bed and takes your hand. He takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh, squeezing your hand and pressing it to his lips for a kiss.

He says your name softly, hoping you can hear him.

“I don’t know what the next few days will hold for us, and I don’t know if you can hear me right now” he starts “I will hold you in my heart for the rest of my life. Since the moment your voice came through the radio, when I thought all hope was lost, you were my light. You gave me hope and convinced me to keep going”

He wishes you were awake, so you could hear these words “You’ve saved me more times than I can count. Fought for me and convinced me not to give up on myself. You reminded me that I have something to live for. You begged me not to give in when I was at my lowest” he squeezes your hand between both of his “I’m not giving up on you honey. I might not be here when you wake up… I don’t know when I’ll be back… I don’t know if I will make it back at all. This is the only way”

His voice cracks a bit and he feels your fingers flex in his hands, though your face and body remain unchanged and unmoving. The sun is rising beyond the horizon, he knows it almost time to go.

“Please” he whispers your name “don’t give up. Don’t you quit on me”

Tag List:

@maulslittlemeowmeow @lucyysthings @justanothersadperson93 @lackofhonor @paige6768 @thefact0rygirl @ttzamara @nekotaetae @jennrosefx @kashasenpai @littledragonlady @love-space-nerd

[novemberevenings]

what comes before night? | chapter 1

In the entire history of Prythian, there have always only been three solar courts: Dawn, Day, and Night. But, on a seemingly random day, an island located closest to the Night Court suddenly makes itself known. No one knows who they are or where they come from but it cannot be any good. Especially when its power rivals that of all the courts, both seasonal and solar. 

word count: 4326

prologue 

a/n: first chapter!! woo hoo!! also fun fact the picture im using as a divider is one i took myself and it just reminds me so much of the Dusk Court so yeah :) hope yall enjoy this chapter! 

The sun had just begun its descent when you start getting ready. It had been a very busy morning, filled with people fussing over you and countless last-minute decisions. You were already so exhausted. This morning’s activities were draining but it was the weight on your shoulders that made you want to curl under the covers and sleep for a century. 

You had been preparing for this moment for your entire life. Then why do you feel as though you’re walking off the edge of a cliff, going into a free fall, and not knowing what’s next? 

The funeral was held last week. The entire court came to pay their respects to their late High Lord. Fae of every kind showed up wearing Dusk’s traditional mourning color of the darkest blue. You were dressed in dark blue yourself. But, unlike the mourning fae around you, you did not let a single tear escape from your eyes.

The only time you let yourself truly break was in the comfort of your own room, with only the deafening silence as your company. The citizens of Dusk were looking to you for leadership now. You couldn’t afford to look weak in front of them. 

For a single moment, you hoped that maybe, just maybe, the Mother would overlook your presence. That the power from your father would flow to your brother instead. But, you dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Your brother was not trained to rule over an entire court and frankly, he didn’t want to either. 

You wanted this power. Had craved it from the moment you saw your father sitting on his throne. You wanted the ability to change things for the better, to help your people. You had inherited many things from your father, his ambition was one of the things you loved the most. 

Thinking about him makes your chest ache. You feel your throat tightening, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but you try to keep them at bay. You’ve cried enough late last night, thinking about how different your life would look after today. About how much you miss your father. 

Your hair had already been done by one of your handmaidens along with a soft brush of kohl on your eyes and a neutral kind of red painted on your lips. It was simple, regal. You stood from your spot on the bed to walk to the window. 

From your window, you could see the entire capital city of Cyra. Your home, your safe place. As you look up at the sky, you could see the dome that has been shielding your court for the past couple of millennia. It was a complex work of magic and was created by your ancestors. The dome itself was made up of two layers: The outer layer was for protection, to ensure that nothing can go in, almost like a physical barrier. The second layer was an intricate spell that allowed your court to stay hidden without any detection. It’s transparent but if you look closely enough, you could see that it has a faint gold color. With the sun setting, it makes the entire sky look like it's shimmering. 

It’s been a few hours after lunch, the sun halfway through its descent. It was the afternoon now and you could see people preparing for the big event. 

The coronation of the Dusk Court’s newest High Lady. 

The event would take place on the highest point within the court which is located at Roava Hill, just before the sun sets beneath the horizon. Fae from all over the court had come to see the ancient Dusk crown placed upon your head. 

You mutter an incantation to project the sounds of the people from below into your room, finding the silence to be a little suffocating. The sound of bustling vendors trying to find a spot for their stalls, courtiers setting up for the ceremony, and the birds chirping their afternoon songs filters into your room. 

That small release of power granted you some reprieve from your earlier thoughts. While closing your eyes, you tip your head back and take a deep breath. Listening to the people below, your people, helped to calm down your thoughts. As you listened, you silently applauded yourself for your work. If there was one thing you liked about being High Lady, it was the power that came with it. 

The specialized power that originates from Dusk is unique. And even though you had been studying it for your entire 400 years of life, it never ceases to amaze you. The other solar courts had healing, knowledge, or darkness as their specialty. The power to wield fire or ice, water or earth, belonged to the seasonal courts. The Dusk court had its own specialty powers too. 

Sorcery and the Mystic Arts. 

The citizens of Dusk could manipulate power gifted from the Mother and Cauldron themselves. While the other courts did have access to basic magic that is unrelated to their specialty powers, Dusk’s powers are wholly different. The magic that the citizens of dusk possess is magic in its purest form, which can be harnessed using spells and incantations. However, the wielder also affects the scale at which the magic can be used. The more powerful the wielder, the greater the magic.

As High Lady, the magnitude of the power you wield is insurmountable. Not to mention the fact that you had been training and studying your powers since you took your first steps. 

The realization hit you out of nowhere, the fact that you were one of the most powerful Fae currently in existence. Great, another burden you have to bear. 

You wonder if you have what it takes to do this. To lead an entire court, to protect them and serve them just as your father did. You wonder how you could ever do this without him. 

The door of your chambers opening interrupts your train of thought. Your mother slips inside, already in her ceremonial garb. “Why haven’t you put your clothes on yet? It’s almost time for the coronation.” 

You look to the sky again and realize the sun has set even more since the last time you looked at it. “Sorry, I didn’t notice the time.” 

The ceremonial dress for your coronation is beautiful. It looked like a sunset captured in fabric with a blend of oranges, pinks, and purples. The silhouette is loose and flowy, making you look like a deity. It made you feel like you could deserve your title. 

Your mother helps with the simple gold necklace you chose to wear for the ceremony. She stands behind you as you move your hair to the side, allowing her to clasp the necklace. A simple gold chain with a ring around it. It was your father’s ring. The ring that he dedicated to you. He had three rings in total, one for each of his family members. Engraved inside the ring was the nickname your father affectionately called you. Witchling. 

As a young fae learning all about the mystic arts and sorcery, your parents realized that you took to it quite easily, the Mother blessing you with great power even as a child. Your father had joked that you could be a witch with how good you were at using your powers. From then on, you became your father’s little witchling. 

The ring rests between your collarbones, the sunlight hitting it just right and emanating a soft glow. You feel as though your father is watching over you at this very moment. 

“I know what you’re thinking about, you know,” Your mother breaks the silence with a small smile, her eyes glinting knowingly as she looks at you through the mirror. 

“And what would that be, mom?” Your tone is a little disbelieving, but deep down, you’re worried that she could see right through you. She rests her head on your shoulder, hugging you tightly for comfort. 

“Your father was nervous too before his coronation. He was a mess. I still remember the day like it was yesterday, the day I became the High Lady.” At the mention of your father, your mother’s eyes flutter shut, as if she was replaying the memory behind her eyelids. “I’m pretty sure he was still nervous as he was climbing up Roava Hill, even more so when he was saying his oaths.” 

“Well, it couldn’t have been that bad since he became one of the greatest leaders in the history of our court,” The thought of your father being nervous was impossible. You never saw him as anything less than brilliant, both as your father and High Lord.  

“That is precisely my point, sweet child. Despite the fact that he was nervous, and that he didn’t believe he could lead, he still did. He ruled with no tolerance for injustice and with kindness in his heart. You will do just the same, if not even better.” 

You take a deep breath, readying yourself for what's to come. You knew that you had what it takes to rule. You had been born for it. You had been trained in the art of politics, battle strategy, diplomacy, and everything else that comes with being a ruler since you were a child. You could do this. You have to do this. 

With one last look in the mirror, you turn to face your mother. You take a deep breath, and with a harsh exhale, you dismiss all your earlier worries and concerns.

“Alright. Let’s get myself crowned shall we?” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The coronation starts the moment you start climbing Roava Hill. It’s supposed to be symbolic, representing how you will have to persevere through hardships as a leader. You make the climb alone, the courtiers and your family already at the top of the hill while the citizens of Dusk gather at the base of the hill to watch you make the climb. 

The hill is steep and the journey is long, but when you finally make it to the top, you decide the view was worth the effort it took to get there. As it is the highest point in the entire court, you get to see everything that will rest on your shoulders, your responsibility. A feeling of pride surges through your veins, feeling eternally grateful that this beautiful place was your home. That you had the privilege to rule this magnificent court

You turn to the small clearing where courtiers are gathered alongside your family. The priestess stands before a marble altar that has been worn down with age. 

The light of the setting sun glows on your face as you step toward the altar. It seems like an eternity before you arrive in front of the priestess, the entire court at your back and only the setting sun as your companion. Everything else around you drowns out as you focus on keeping a brave face, too scared that people could see your fear. Your fear of failure, your fear of not being enough. 

The priestess begins the ceremony by casting a similar spell that you did earlier, making her voice project to the people of Dusk waiting at the bottom of the hill. You can’t back out now. 

“People of Dusk, we gather here today to witness the rise of a new ruler. The passing of our late High Lord is a loss that we will grieve for eternity. But if there is one good thing that has come out of it, it would be this. A new High Lady of the Dusk Court.” 

Cheers ring out from all around you, the people standing at the bottom of the hill applauding and shouting, your mother and brother with matching looks of pride on their faces. With every second that passes, your fears slowly slip away, turning into a feeling of pride and joy. This was your day, you realized. It’s time you acted like it. 

Your mother steps forward next, moving to stand beside you. As the current High Lady by marriage to your father, she will have to renounce her title before you could proceed with your ceremony. Your mother’s hand brushes yours slightly, her silent way of showing support. 

“I, High Lady Solana of the Dusk Court, renounce my title as High Lady. With this setting sun, I shall step down from this title as it shall be passed on to Lady Y/N of the Dusk Court, the firstborn daughter of the late High Lord and I.” Pride laces through her words. When you turn to look at her, you see her eyes glistening with love. 

After her speech, your mother steps back from the altar, gives your cheek a kiss and returns to her spot beside your brother. The priestess continues with the ceremony, moving on to the oaths next. Oaths that you will have to uphold during your entire reign, promises that you make not only to yourself but also to the entirety of the Dusk Court. 

“I swear that I will serve and protect the Dusk Court with my life. To have the court’s best interests at heart. To cherish and uphold Dusk Court values. I swear that I will give up my time, my efforts, and my life if duty calls for it. I swear to act as High Lady of the Dusk Court from this day, till the end of my days.” 

With the last words of the oath leaving your lips, the bargain you made inks itself on your skin. A band of orange and purple colored swirls appears on your right upper arm. With the oath finished, there’s just one more part left for the coronation ceremony. The crown. 

The Dusk Court’s crown was beautiful. It was gold and had a simple design, purple and pink gems lining the entire crown, with an orange gem set a bit higher than the others. 

The priestess picks up the crown from the cushion it had been resting on. Before the crown is placed on your head, you kneel before it. Another symbolic act, the last time you would ever kneel to anyone or anything would be for the crown. 

With a deep breath, the priestess places the beautiful crown on your head. It's heavier than you expected. You stand from your position on the ground with shaky legs, hoping and praying to the Mother that the crown doesn’t fall off your head. 

The ceremony was planned meticulously for this precise moment. The light of the setting sun passes through the gems of the crown at just the right angle, reflecting colorful light all around the clearing. You feel the sun shining on your face, the soft glow providing you comfort. 

As you turn to face the crowd, a hush falls over all the attendants. 

One by one, everyone drops to their knees and bows their heads, the crowd at the bottom of the hill following suit. 

You were now, officially, the High Lady of the Dusk Court. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The entire court is in celebration following the coronation. The entire city of Cyra is abuzz with excitement. As the capital city and home of the royal palace, fae from all over the court has traveled to witness the coronation of the newest High Lady. 

You didn’t receive any breaks in between the ceremony. After you were crowned, your mother and brother came to congratulate you. They both crushed you in a giant hug, both sporting matching looks of pride and love. 

“See, that wasn’t that bad wasn’t it?” Your mother says while she cups your face with both hands. Her thumbs make a swiping motion on your cheek and it brings you so much comfort. 

“Do I have to start calling you your majesty now?” Your brother jests with a teasing smile. “Ugh, please don’t,” You groan, reminded of all the courtiers coming up to you and bowing as low as they could while saying Your Majesty continuously. 

“I’m still your big sister. But now, you have a legal obligation to do just as I say” Now it’s his turn to groan, rolling his eyes and huffing like a petulant child. 

You smile looking at your family. Eternally grateful that you still had them by your side. But there would always be that one piece missing. Your father was the source of many jokes and, surprisingly, loved to share court gossip with you all. You’ll miss family dinners every night and sitting in your father’s study while he gives you lectures on politics. 

You shook yourself out of that train of thought. You were happy, beyond happy right now. You would carry your father’s memory with you for your entire life. But now, it was time to party. 

You were still in your ceremonial outfit when you joined the festivities. The plaza in front of the palace was decorated beautifully. There were stalls lined on the edges of the plaza, selling food of all kinds, trinkets and souvenirs to remember this occasion. 

Despite the anxiety and worry you were feeling before, being surrounded by your people made your heart feel a little more at ease. So you conversed, accepting congratulations from strangers and receiving gifts of all kinds. 

The center of the plaza became a dance floor, with musicians playing lively music. You were hit with the sudden urge to dance, to let yourself enjoy the night after such an exhausting day. So, that is exactly what you did. 

You let your thoughts fade into nothing and allowed your body to take over. Twirling and swishing around the dance floor, your dress flowing just as you did. Eventually, your mother and brother joined in and you basked in the presence of your family. You were all still grieving, but at this moment, you finally felt like you would be alright, in time. 

Later on in the night, after dancing, drinking, and laughing to your heart's content, the promise you made to your father rings in your ears. 

You must share our court with the rest of the world. Please, Y/N. It is the last thing I will ever ask of you.

I promise, dad. I will share the beauty and knowledge of our court with the world. We will never hide again while the rest go to ruin. I promise.

You decide that your first act as High Lady will be to fulfill that very promise as a way to honor your father. With a deep breath, you head up to the palace steps, garnering the attention of everyone who has come to celebrate.

With a raise of your hand, everyone falls silent, waiting to hear what their newest High Lady has to say. You feel everyone’s eyes on you, and suddenly the crown feels just a little heavier on your head. 

“Good evening citizens of Dusk. I hope that you have all been enjoying your night as I know I’ve had,” More people make their way to the front of the palace steps after hearing your commanding voice. “Before we end the night, I would like to make my first act as High Lady.” 

“For many millennia, we have kept ourselves hidden from the rest of the world. We have watched as history forgot about our existence. We have remained silent as wars were waged, as the rest of the world suffered. We have done nothing when we have all the resources and abilities to help many others.” 

You take a pause in your speech, looking around to survey people’s reactions, wondering if they would be against the idea you were proposing. But you didn’t see a single look of disapproval in the crowd so you continued. 

“I made my father a promise before he died. I promised him that I would share the wonders of our court with the world. To help even more Fae and ensure their safety just as he has ensured yours.” 

The crowd starts to cheer, excited at the prospect of finally being able to see the rest of what the world has to offer. “This dome has shielded us from the outside world. I hope that you will all join me in this new era of Dusk. The old ways of our court will fall with the setting sun. Come dawn, the rest of the world will know who we are.” 

More cheers and shouts of approval ring out throughout the crowd, applause and cries of excitement feeding into your own confidence. You raise your hands to the sky and aimed at the dome that has been shielding your court for several millennia. 

You reach into that power deep within yourself and mutter an incantation. With a thrust of your hands, your power shoots from the palms and into the night sky, manifesting as a glowing purple and pink column of light. It hits the inner layer of the dome, the spell that kept your court hidden from the rest of the world. 

Your face scrunches up in concentration as you dive deeper into the well of your power. The depth of your power was unimaginable, you thought that it would never end. Slowly but surely, the inner dome crumbles. Cracks start forming from the point where your power made contact with it. 

After a few more seconds, the dome is completely broken. Golden flakes fall from where the inner dome used to be, covering you and everyone else in gold glitter. You tip your head back to the sky and let the flakes fall on your face, relishing in the cheers and joy from the people around you. 

The Dusk Court is no longer hidden. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

It was a peaceful night at the River House. All of the Inner Circle were gathered for the weekly family gathering and surprisingly, everyone is in attendance. Everyone has long since left the dining table. The sky is clear tonight, so the Inner Circle chooses to head to the backyard where little Nyx can stretch his legs and run around in the grass. Feyre and Elain both chase him around while the others choose to lounge on the chairs and sofas on the shaded patio. 

Rhys looks at the sight with a contented smile, taking a sip of his second glass of wine. 

“-as I was about to land a hit, the motherfucker decides to trip me using his spear. It was cheating! Admit it, I would have won if you didn’t play dirty.” Cassian recounts the sparring match he had with Rhysand from earlier in the morning. 

“You forget that I excel in playing dirty, Cass,” Rhys says with a teasing smile on his face. The rest groan in unison at the innuendo. 

Azriel sits in the seat beside Rhys, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics. As usual, the Shadowsinger keeps to himself. In fact, he almost decided to skip coming to the River House entirely but he knows if he misses another meal he’ll get an earful from his family. 

Yet, despite his reluctance on coming, he finds himself relaxing further into his seat, his shoulders becoming less tense and his wings drooping with every laugh and chuckle from his family. He closes his eyes for a bit, letting his guard down just a fraction. 

These gatherings usually last the entire day, so Azriel figures that he could get some much-needed rest in the shade. The others continue on with what they’re doing for a little longer. After Elain catches Nyx in her arms, he manages to squirm free from her hold and squeals when his aunt and mother start chasing after him again. Cassian continues to tell stories they’ve all heard a million times, Mor refills Rhys’ glass of wine, and Amren sits a little farther, but still close enough to snark at Cassian from time to time. 

Everything was perfect. The entire family is in one place, with no threats anywhere in sight. 

Then it happens. 

Something in the fae realm changed. A sudden shift in the balance of power that has been so carefully maintained. 

Goosebumps rise all over his skin and all the chatter stops. He sits up in his seat, going tense once more, shadows dispersing to ensure that everyone is safe. All his friends are quiet. Even Nyx can sense something is wrong, running back to his mother and Feyre picks him up quickly, holding him close to her with a hand on his head. She heads to the patio with everyone else, Elain following quickly behind. 

“Did you guys feel that?” Mor questions, confusion, and curiosity etched onto her face. Everyone shares the same sentiment, having felt the strange disturbance too. 

“My shadows don’t report anything unusual. But they’re on edge” Azriel announces to his family, all of them sharing matching looks of confusion and worry on their faces. 

It was an unusual feeling. Like something old and powerful was making itself known. Like a lion roaring its challenge or a wolf howling its victory, another apex predator telling everything around it that it is a force to be reckoned with. 

It’s pulsing, this strange feeling. Like a heartbeat. As if it was a signal to inform every one of its location. 

Strangely, Azriel felt drawn to it. He didn’t know why but instead of warning bells, this felt more like a beacon, a summons of some sort. As if something or someone was out there calling to him. He was tempted to shoot to the sky and follow it, see where it takes him. Nyx’s cry snaps him out of it, turning to face his family once more. 

Amren, who normally remains unphased, seems just as worried as the others “We best get inside. Secure the house and figure this out from there,” Everyone shuffles out of their seats and heads back into the house, all of them wondering the same thing. 

What the hell just happened.

[balemouns]

[ goose ]　/　short-bobbed curls bounce as head jolts up behind the kamera. oh! that one that'd flown across the lens just now— that was— "wait!" she calls cheerfully, haplessly, after the broad-winged bird, hurrying to gather one edge of her sun skirt in one hand to break into a run across the uneven sandbar in pursuit.

fortunately, it doesn't go far, and she can see it easily ahead, alighting with grace upon the white-tipped surf not far out to sea. the elegantly spoon-shaped neck, the ivory head and breast blending to shades of gradually darkening blue up to its short tail feathers ; yes! even all the way out here here on these tropical islands, that has to be one of fontaine's very own snow-winged geese!

—oh, and not far from it, also perched on a wavetip. . . its umbral partner, the darkwing goose, with its cloak of vintage, velvet-like maroon. it didn't blend quite as well as the other with the locale's festive atmosphere, but certainly dazzling in its own crepuscular, cryptic way.

and didn't it remind her of something, now that she looked at it more closely?

. . . ah. or, rather. . . someone?

hairs on the back of her neck prickle, and she nearly dreads the slow action of pulling her face from the kamera again to peer to the side. . .

"eep! k-knave! you— when did you—" oh, was she. . . here too. . . "when did you, ah, get here. . . "

now, this she was always fond of: the sound and sight of vast blue swallowing the horizon before her. with the cool breeze along the shore, the soft crash of waves against sand, the occasional sparkle of a sea in motion, maybe it wasn't such a horrible idea after all to take a break here.

in fact, arlecchino had been led to this particular shoreline by the sight of a dark, long-necked bird, a strangely familiar sight that she hadn't expected to see here. where was it going? ( somewhere lovely, undoubtedly. for a moment while she followed, she almost hoped for a cove decorated with cliffs and palms, but... where it had landed was fine, too. vast, open, familiar in its own way. )

as the darkwing goose settled on the waves several yards off the sandbank, seemingly waiting for something, arlecchino decided to wait and see what it was hoping for --- and took a seat herself on the beach, crisp white slacks folded together at knees, arms propped behind with palms flat against the sand, dark eyes marked with red looking out over the rim of glasses intended to protect her vision from the sun.

and so, together, they waited.

and waited.

head turns when the sound of something seems to be fluttering along parallel to the shore catches the darkwing's attention, neck rising and wings flapping where it floats -- she, too, turns to look, seeing a mirrored person following the pale goose along the sand. ( also fluttering, in a sense... wind catches a long dress, barely held up at one side. )

eyes still sitting above the rim of shades try to make out who it might be, but the other quickly covers her face with a kamera pointed at the birds, and a broad sunhat flops over the rest of her in the breeze -- but that pale hair with hints of blue, even the posture the other stands in... recognition comes almost the same moment the girl turns and notices her, and lips that had parted to greet a familiar face close into a tight smile at the girl's sound of surprise.

"... miss furina. lovely to see you too," a single breath almost sounds like a laugh -- as one hand comes up from behind her to push up sunglasses, arlecchino turns back towards the pair of geese, who seem to be greeting one another more closely on the waves. "do you mean on this beach, or in general? ... at least at this spot, I've been here a little while, now. seems both the darkwing and I were waiting to see who else would come along... certainly didn't expect to see fontainan birds like these here. want to watch with me? I'm interested in seeing what the two of them do next."

[actualhumansunshine]

When do you think we will get the Spotify single?

i…had forgotten that even happened?? i have no fucking clue when it might be coming 🤔

[mystic-sky]

Summary: third-year Gojo’s first kiss with fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, sfw aside from teen Gojo ogling at your tiddies.

A/N: I wanted to break from my heavy smut writing with something wholesome and sort of vanilla. Enjoy SSS trio and you on a summer night in August.

It was your second summer together, the summer before everything went to shit. The memory will forever be engraved into you, into Gojo Satoru. Forever engraved into Geto Suguru before his departure, and forever engraved into Ieiri Shoko, who had just discovered her newest infatuation with marijuana.

The moment feels ridiculously more ethereal than how you remember it. Suguru and Satoru snicker as you take your first pull. You’re coughing your lungs out, shoving the blunt back between Suguru’s fingers. He allows his laughter to die down before passing it between his lips (most effortlessly) to inhale.

“Like this,” he holds it for a moment, and releases a puff of the high into your face. Your throat closes and you heave again, squeezing your knees as you hunch over.

“You’ll get used to it,” Shoko says, taking hold of the blunt to take her own pull before passing it to Satoru whose just behind you, sitting on the railing. 

He’s blocking the setting sun, which you were grateful for in a way. You eventually got better at smoking before the thing burnt out, much to everyone’s dismay.

“Get us ice cream, oh handsome, honored one.” Shoko bats her long eyelashes at the snow haired male. She shoves an elbow at your side. You quickly join in.

“Oh dearest honored one, bestow us with snacks to cure the munchies.”

He hops down from the railing, and he’s still taller than the rest of you. “Hmm, say the handsome part again, won’t you? Then, I might consider it.” His sunglasses slide down his nose, and he’s more in your face than Shoko’s, even though you never exaggerated the handsome part specifically.

As nose barely touches nose, you’re a bit flustered by the heat of his body emanating onto yours. It was already hot outside, but you surely felt it.

“I’m the handsome, honored one,” you begin, sliding his sunglasses off of his face and putting them on your own. “And I am going to spoil my friends with ice cream— because I’m the honored one.”

“Cute,” he’s holding an loose, irritated scowl, whirling around and quickly walking up ahead of you lot, earning chuckles from the rest of the group. “Are you guys coming or not?”

“Oh we are, handsome honored one,” Shoko snorts on the handsome part again before cheesing at you. You’re imitating his facial expressions with the shades on— wow these things are pretty cool, you think. And clearly expensive. 

It’s a decent walk to the convenience store now that the sun is down, and no longer scorching the open skin of your back. Him and Suguru are snickering about something like usual, peering back immaturely at you and Shoko. The both of you are unamused, wondering if the two of you should pretend to mumble things about them too, just to rile them up. 

She asks you for your hair tie by whispering in your ear, and you stifle a fake laugh, earning raised eyebrows from the two males. You swiftly pull it off your wrist and hand it to her, watching her stuff what she could of her bob cut into a frazzled ponytail.

Stepping foot into the store was probably the sweetest relief of that night. The coldest air poured down your backs as the door chimed loudly upon entry. You slide the sunglasses up to rest on your head, realizing just how bright the in-store lights actually were.

You and Shoko broke off from the boys to choose what you pleased. She picked up a teen idol magazine as you paced just a few steps ahead. You’re grabbing a few snacks as well, something crunchy to fill whatever it was your stomach was feeling. 

The four of you meet again in the ice cream section, and Satoru doesn’t actually care that you and Shoko have picked out more than just ice cream. He’s got an armful of things you never even tried, so you ask him,

“What’s that? S’it good?” He’s distracted by your breasts being pressed together by full arms of snacks. A single strap of your tank top is falling off one of your shoulders, and it makes his gaze stutter about on your frame. Suguru snaps his fingers behind him, forcing a response from Satoru.

“I’ll let you try some,” the response is quick on his tongue, and he scowls at his dark haired friend who had been mocking him in the back ground about his looming crush on you.

“All you get is chocolate stuff,” Shoko inserts herself between you both, analyzing Satoru’s snacks. “Can I get cigs too?” 

He shrugs. He hardly had any limits on his allowances. Money to him was limitless, and that’s why, especially with his sweet tooth, he had absolutely no discipline. He’s at the register minutes later, with more items in hand than the rest of you. He argues that since its the the last week before the summer ends, who knows when you’ll get another outing like this one. 

You are all back by the pier again, sitting on the railing you aren’t supposed to be sitting on because you could very well fall into the sea. Stomachs full of flavored corn snacks and sweets, the munchies are now gone and you’re all talking about... well, a whole lot of nothing.

Shoko, as seemingly spontaneous as ever, wants to dip her feet in the water. 

“I don’t wanna go alone,” she tugs at Suguru’s side. “Carry me there.”

“What? No.” He’s gnawing unapologetically on a bare popsicle stick. Her eyes plead, the same ones from earlier, and he gives in out of annoyance. The two them walk down the steps to the beach. 

You never asked her if she left you alone with Satoru that night on purpose, or what her goals might’ve been, but an opportunity it was, nonetheless.

“The blue one’s better,” he says simply, sucking on the flavored block of ice.

“Than the red one?” You peered at your own popsicle. “I guess it’s up to preference.” 

Your mouth pops off of the tip loudly before you suck again. He wishes you didn’t make it look so lewd.

You ogle at the box of flavors, the rest of them would surely melt by the time you all got back to the school. You turn your head back to feel white hair graze against your arm. He invites himself to taste your popsicle, prompting hard blushes from you. He imitates the loud pop you made just before. 

“Blue is still better,” he smirks at your sudden discomfort. He’s somewhat at eye level with you, and you swallow hard. He’s always flirting with you, messing with you— trying to get some sort of reaction out of you. 

“Just cause you bought it for me doesn’t mean you can invite yourself to taste it whenever you want.” You bring the pop to your lips and suck softly, looking directly at him. He’s blushing now too, but he tries so hard to hide it. He’s stuck on the way that you’re barely shy about it. You’re not telling him to back up like you usually would. Your eyes are sparkling as bright as they’re able with barely any sun left on the horizon.

“Your mouth’s blue,” you break him from his sultry thoughts. He licks his lips, feeling somewhat embarrassed about it.

“Yours is red,” he deflects, he’s definitely not prepared at all for what you say next.

“If we kiss, our lips are gonna be purple,” He’s all for it, but he’s still surprised when your cold lips entwine with his. It’s a sweet taste, but the feeling of the kiss is a cross between sticky and numb. Suddenly, some warmth blooms in the center of it, and you feel each other entirely. Your tongue doesn’t feel like he thought it would, but at least he knows why. You pull away, wrapping your mouth around your pop, nonchalant as ever.

“You’re just always in my face like you wanna kiss me,” you shrug, you’re analyzing him subtly through the corner of your eye. His expression is sort of deer-like. He’s always wanted to kiss you, yeah. Did he think it was going to happen like that? Not exactly. 

“Cause,” the response is seconds late, “I do.” 

He’s not so shy anymore, closing the space between your bodies.

“So just do it,” you look up at him, and his eyes are glimmering at you. He presses his lips to yours, warming them again against your soft and pillowy flesh. A sweet sound pours through his mouth, one he didn’t know you were capable of making. He wondered if all girls tasted this sweet— with the exception of the ice cream. You kissed him back so bashfully, despite your seemingly assertive personality before hand.

The kiss lasts longer than you both realize, prompting sticky ice cream to dribble down both your arms but neither of you care that much. 

Your wet mouths part, and surely there’s a bit of blue on your lips as much as there is red on his. You find yourself looking away from his piercing blue gaze, trying not to draw attention to the blush painting your face. 

“There isn’t anything to wipe my arm up with is there,” you mutter, watching the red juice slither down your arm. You’re tempted to lick it up to prevent it from traveling further but Satoru speaks again.

“We could go rinse our hands by the fountains if you want,” he says, cracking a goofy grin.

“That sounds like a good idea,” you look towards him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He chuckles lightly as the fingers on his cleaner hand find your face, smooshing your cheeks inward and puckering your lips. “Well would you look at that,” he grins again.

“They definitely are purple.”

[whythinktoomuch]

i. apocalypse now & then

Kara touched down, her boots meeting the earth with a metallic clunk that was promptly swallowed up in the dust and utter grayness of her surroundings. The warnings came immediately—insistent beeps, bright red numbers and figures flashing before her eyes.

“How’s it looking?” asked the tinny voice in her helmet, and Kara sighed.

“Yeah, you were right. Place is infested,” she said, studying the mess of debris and desolation that seemed to feed directly into the faint horizon in every direction. “Kryptonite readings are off the charts. There’s either a tower nearby, or mines just planted all over. Maybe even both, if i’m Iucky.”

Alex let out a harsh breath. “Look, I know you’re not going to leave until you find those people, but you better watch your fucking back out there, okay?”

“Hm… don’t I always though?”

“You ask that every single time, and every single goddamn time, I have to re-mind you of all—”

“All right, all right…” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “Just stop worrying so loudly already, jeez. I’ll keep you posted the entire time.”

“Like that was ever an option.”

“Love you too,” Kara said breezily, and she began her search.

She explored the area in proportioned sections, slipping periodically into x-ray vision, keeping her feet drifting an inch off the ground at all times. You just never knew these days. By now, Kara had stepped on enough lead-wrapped kryptonite mines for one lifetime, which coincidentally had been the same number of times it took to gray almost the entirety of Alex’s head. Or so Alex claimed anyway.

Apparently, over two decades of this sort of living could do that to a person: make them older, but also, steal away every last bit of their sense of humor. 

--

Whenever Kara happened upon a particularly extensive blind spot—jagged slabs of lead piled on top of each other—she took her time. Carefully sifted her way through all that rubble, with a spare bit of rebar or her heat vision from a safe distance. Calling out to any potential survivors that could have been trapped underneath. But as she steadily neared hour two of her search, it was starting to look like a lost cause. That whoever had sent that distress signal must have since succumbed to the environment, like so many others already had done before them.

Then Kara heard it.

Whipping her head around, Kara strained her ears to their very limit, all the while silently cursing how muffled everything sounded in this godforsaken suit of hers. It took a minute or so to hone in on it, but she finally made out the distant voice.

Help us. Save us. We’re down here.

Kara snapped into action, already hurtling full-speed toward the source of the cry. “Alex, I found them.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Alex said, but the note of relief carried through the speakers loud and clear. It always did, of course, given the scarcity of such a feeling as of late. “All right, get them out of there, and hurry your ass up. You’ve already been out there for too long.”

The voice grew louder and more distinct as Kara approached it, and eventually, she could even distinguish other people in the mix—their whispers, the muted beats of their heart seemingly punctuating every word, and all the shallow breaths of air in between. She counted at least five separate individuals, five more lives that she could potentially save from this impossible landscape.

But by the time Kara reached the point where the voice was sounding from below rather than from the distance, her excitement had all but waned, receded back into the ever present anxiety hanging in the air.

“… Fuck,” she huffed out, staring at the large swathe of broken rock and dirt and twisted metal beneath her, the letter K spray-painted all over the surface in a faded green. “Alex. They’re in a mine-rigged shelter.”

“Forget it then. Just get out of there,” Alex said, all rather predictably. “We can send an extraction team with defusers in the morning.”

“But that’ll take too long,” Kara protested. “It would take days, just for a task force to cover all that distance, and these people need help now.”

“No. I want you to put down a marker and come right the fuck back home,” Alex said. “That’s your last kryptonite filtration suit! If anything happens, if you sustain even the slightest bit of damage out there, you could—”

Kara cut the feed and swiftly locked her comms from all available channels, employing one of the few tips Winn had passed onto her before he died. Because Alex didn’t understand. How could she, when she wasn’t the one who had to listen to these desperate cries for help from people just barely out of reach.

She floated outside the presumed blast radius, planted her feet firmly to the ground, and went to work. Uncovering the buried shelter bit by bit, one sizable mass of charred rubble dug up after the other. It wasn’t easy. The kryptonite in the area, though not exposed, was much too close for comfort even through her suit. And it made the sun hotter, everything heavier, and Kara’s progress as slow as it could possibly be.

But all that—the sweat gathering on her brow, the soreness burning up her lower back—was a very small price to pay when weighed against the lives of at least five people in need. So, Kara kept going. She kept burrowing deeper into the earth with her bare hands, until the sun was but a small twinkle above her head and her fingertips were brushing against a patch of warmed metal.

And she could hear them better now. They were so close.

Kara pressed her palm against what had to be the outer wall of their shelter. “Hey, can you hear me in there?”

“Please help us!” came the frantic response, only somewhat muffled now. “Please get us out! We can’t breathe in here!”

“Okay! Okay… I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Kara shouted back, heart thumping hard in her ears. “Just… hang on.”

A quick once-over was all it took to determine that the wall before her—like most other surfaces nowadays—was naught but a few inches of commercial steel, coated in a thin layer of lead. And as such, all it would to take, of course, to break into such a structure was—THUNK!—a single punch from the Girl of Steel herself.

Kara ripped a hole in the wall, using her heat vision to melt down the edges as she tugged the entire thing apart. Eventually satisfied with her efforts, she was just about to crawl through her rather crude but functional doorway when the speakers in her helmet abruptly flipped back on.

“—him back to life, and just… throttle him for showing you that trick!” Alex was practically hollering in her ear. “Why would you ever need to do that anyway? The whole frickin’ point of the—”

“Whoa, Alex, Alex, it’s fine! I’m fine! Just shh!” Kara hastily cut her off. “I’ve pretty much got my foot in the door already, okay? So, I’m helping these people whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Alex said with a scoff. “I want to look these people in the eye while you explain to me what was so goddamn special about them that you had to…”  

And Kara barked out a laugh, shaking her head in wonder as Alex continued to chew her out in a way that only sisters could, apparently. “Hey, you can do whatever you want, okay? Just let me bring them home first.”

“Fine. Just don’t kill the comms this time.”

“Oh, I would never.”

“Kara, I fucking swear to—”

But the rest of all that swearing quickly faded into the backdrop, as Kara finally poked her head into what should have been just another underground refuge from everything their world now had to offer. Because ten feet below from where she had burrowed her way in, was not a handful of dehydrated people waiting to be rescued—only masses upon masses of thick coils and plates of smooth black metal shifting about.

That’s when Kara realized that it’d been quite some time since she’d heard a cry for help. And soon after that was when a muted click! sounded, then somewhere down there in the midst of all that darkness and mechanical movement, came another loop of voices calling out to her.

“Oh shit…” Kara whispered, and at least ten sets of glassy eyes flicked up to stare at her. The pre-recorded voices immediately cut out, and the entire room lit up in a vibrant green as the machines all powered up with a collective hum. “Shit, shit, shit, you were right!”

“Right about what?” Alex demanded, but Kara was too busy heeding her long overdue advice of getting the fuck out there to respond.

Kara burst from the ground in a flurry of dust and clattering scrap metal, already heading for the horizon at full-speed. She needed to put as much distance as possible between her and the decoy shelter. It was nothing short of an honest-to-Rao miracle that her sudden escape hadn’t tripped any of the mines on-site, but now, it was only a matter of time.

Still hurtling away, Kara threw a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the first three drones break through the surface, already mindlessly chasing after her. Then the third and the fourth crashed right on through after them, which abruptly led to a series of rapid beeping, which abruptly led to a violent disturbance in the air that stole away all the sound from the world and knocked Kara right out of the sky.

(next part here)

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[valberryy]

good god, let me give you my life. — kaeya

another converted oc fic!!!! yes i have many kaeya thoughts....... and i missed this oc in particular QAQ anyways please accept this word vomit its like 2k words im sorry idk what possessed me

pairing: kaeya x fem!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries + alcohol, light swearing (like, three instances max)

Kaeya had seen that doe-eyed look countless times before, but there was still something about the way your gaze burned almost incredulously into his own that made his smirk grow wider.

"Kaeya, you asshole!" you exclaimed, but your half-exasperated anger just made him laugh—by the Seven, you were even more fun to tease than Diluc! 

"What's the rush?" he laughed, ignoring your hand on his chest to balance herself as you tiptoed to where he was holding your Vision right out of your reach. "Is widdle [Name] so scared of—"

You elbowed him in the gut at that, and his grip on your Vision wavered as he let out a pained oof. You pinned it back to where it normally hung, and a glance at your clothes—the buttoned up coat, the bags placed haphazardly on the ground next to your boots—was all it took for the lucidity to return to Kaeya's eyes.

"The others are waiting," you muttered, gaze downcast and cheeks flushed from the cold. Kaeya nodded. Wordlessly, you grabbed his hands and squeezed, ever so gently.

"I promise we'll come back to visit," you said. "And I'll write a lot."

Kaeya nodded again, a devious grin pulling at his lips but faltering at the edges. "When you do come back I'll ask Master Crepus to throw a party and I'll read out your letters for everyone to hear—"

"You—!"

"...So come back safe, okay?"

A sigh, then, and another light squeeze of his hands. 

"I promise."

With that, Kaeya finally let you go—and already missing the warmth of your palms and the fleetingness of your touch, he watched as your back disappeared off into the horizon.

Kaeya often found himself waiting, those days, to the point that he might have called himself distracted if he hadn't known any better. The smile that graced his lips at each letter—which always started with your and your brother's neat handwriting, with little comments from your sister sprinkled all throughout, and sealed with some local flower or other—never failed to go unnoticed, to the point that even Diluc found himself sighing at the sight.

"You're an idiot," he had said, and nothing else.

Each year your visits had become a staple of summer, and for days on end Master Crepus' manor was filled with foreign music and dance. Kaeya never read out your letters like he said he would, but you two would always sneak out of the party with a bottle of champagne, and you would whisper gossip to each other like you always used to, conspiratory and scheming.

(Once, just as a laugh was about to spill from his lips, you placed your palm over the lower half of his face and kissed the back of your hand. "I thought you were bolder than that," he teased, and with a scoff you plucked the bottle from his hands.

"Oh? I'd like to see you do better, lover boy.")

One year the letters stopped, and you never came to visit. Winter came all too soon. The calla lilies in your last letter had begun to wilt.

The next year, he and Diluc parted ways. As their swords clashed for the last time, he wished it was your flames that had scorched him instead.

Two years hence, the Knights of Favonius found a young woman, half-conscious and all but bleeding out, under the tree at Windrise.

Kaeya had stopped in his tracks when he heard, his silver tongue going dry behind the calm smile he put on. "Thanks for the news," he told his subordinate. "I'll check it out."

As soon as he was alone, he let the panic sink in.

His walk to the cathedral was exceedingly brief, and Kaeya wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. As he walked towards the infirmary he heard Barbara's voice—

"...but do you remember anything else?"

A pause, then a blunt, "No."

—And as he walked inside he saw the deaconess with her tome, and a little ways behind her was...you. You seemed a little pale and worse for wear, but when you looked at him with the same doe-eyed look as before, Kaeya couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved.

"You really worried me back there, love," he said smoothly. "How are you feeling now?"

You glanced almost unnoticeably at Barbara, who seemed to mouth something along the lines of, "Later."

"Alive, I guess," you responded, then paused for a good moment as you glanced at him fully. Kaeya raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry…" you said, "It's just that I've heard so much about you, but—"

But what? he thought, and felt his blood run cold again.

"—I have no idea who you are."

—

Kaeya thought it the worst of cruelties for you to be so similar to your old self, yet so wholly, horribly different. You walked with the same languid grace, spoke with the same haughtiness and pride, still tapped your teaspoon against the rim of your teacup—three times, every single time, with a resounding chime.

But you no longer looked at him the same, no longer laughed at his old jokes, no longer called him by his name. It was always captain or sir, and never what he so desperately longed to hear.

"You Knights are always so ineffective," Diluc sighed, and for the first time in years the Ragnvindr brothers finally found themselves in agreement.

Kaeya laughed self-pityingly, running one hand through his hair and using the other to swirl the contents of his half-empty glass. Another sigh, and just as he was about to speak again, the door to Angel's Share opened to the sound of laughter.

"Venti, I said no—"

"Oh, come on! All you've been doing is reading that journal of yours! I thought you—"

There was an indignant, ungraceful sounding yell, and the rest of Venti's words were muffled by what Kaeya assumed was your hand. You two whispered together some more—he even thought he heard you threaten him, if he wasn't mistaken—and with your defeated sigh, Venti began to tune his lyre.

Ah, you was going to dance, then. 

Kaeya turned in his seat to the point where he could watch them from the corner of his vision, taking another drink from his steadily-emptying glass. With gentle hands, the bard began to pluck at his lyre strings, and with the same practiced, precise movements he committed so dearly to memory, your body began to sway.

He knew this one—it started off slowly, gently, only to speed up as the music did as well. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four, went your heels against the wooden floor, and as the song ended and you bowed with a haughty flourish, Kaeya had abruptly stood up and left the tavern.

Your steps were light against the cobblestone when you caught up with him, that same night.

"Captain," you said, "you've been avoiding me."

He turned around to face you, a practiced smile on his lips. He couldn't look you in the eyes, though, no matter how intensely your gaze burned into him. "Oh? What might you be doing out so late, Miss [Surname]?" 

You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "You knew me before, right? That's why you keep running away?"

Kaeya's tongue went dry as he heard you speak. Ah, what does he say to this? He watched you sigh again, but this time you brought out the musty old journal that he knew hung from your waist.

You held it out to him expectantly, but he didn't take it.

"...We knew each other," he eventually replied, soft and without any of his normal bravado. "We were…close."

Your face remained impassive, but there was a glint in your eyes that gave your suspicion away. "...I see," you said. "Then…I want to start again. I can't be the person you knew before, but…"

It was Kaeya who sighed this time, endearingly. "You really haven't changed," he said, before holding out a hand for you to shake. "Allow me to reintroduce myself, then. Kaeya Alberich, at your service."

You smiled, and he felt his heart flutter and ache alike at the sight. Taking his hand, you said, "[Name] [Surname]…a pleasure it is to finally know you, Kaeya."

—

Whenever dusk fell, Kaeya would often find you at one of the many taverns littered throughout the city, but your favourite seemed to be the Angel's Share, of all places. If you weren't dancing along to whatever tune the bard was singing, you were often talking with Diluc from the opposite end of the bar, sipping from your glass of wine. 

And whenever Kaeya would walk in you would turn to him and raise your glass in greeting, crowing something or other about coincidence, and he would say something or other about fate; and then you would drink together as his brother grew increasingly exasperated at the volume. 

One evening, he had lost track of how many rounds he had when his head began to grow fuzzy. He was only half-conscious of Charles' sigh, and you saying something along the lines of, "I'll bring him home."

With practiced ease—likely from your time hanging around with that drunkard bard—you lifted him up and slung his arm around your shoulders, struggling a bit from his height. "C'mon, captain, let's get you home," you said, to which he merely nodded and buried his face in the warmth of the crook of your neck.

"Y'know, it was always you getting wasted like this," he drawled. "Master Crepus used to—! He used to always scold us for stealing wine, but you were always half passed out so you never heard any of it."

You looked down, seemingly deep in thought. "It sounds like we were very close," you said, and he chuckled and hummed in the affirmative. 

He began rambling again as you made the short walk to his house, continuing even as you dug through his pockets for his keys. How he still reads your letters, how you made fun of his eyepatch the very first time he wore it, how you two used to climb the tree at Windrise, hoping always, in vain, to somehow reach the highest bough. If he were less shitfaced and more sober perhaps he would have found it in himself to stem the waterfall of words spilling from his lips—honest and raw in a way neither of you were used to—but as it stood, all he could have done was bare his heart to you like this.

You were silent as you laid him down on his bed, mumbling more to yourself than to anyone else, "You need to drink water, Kaeya."

The silence between you hung heavy like a body on the gallows. 

"I really loved you, you know."

Another pause, then, and then the soft caress of your palm against his cheek, and the lightest brush of your lips against his forehead.

"...Good night, Kaeya."

The next day, Kaeya woke up with the worst bitch of a migraine he's ever had in his life. As he rose to get a glass of water, he suddenly became aware of several things: firstly, the fact that he was a fucking idiot; second, the fact that he needs to get black-out drunk less often; and third, the fact that you were lying asleep on his couch, your journal in one hand and your other arm hanging off the side.

He sighed, placing down the empty glass, and walked over to you—and with your same gentleness from the night before, Kaeya brushed aside your bangs to press a kiss to your forehead.

—

"Snrk—you what?"

"Oh, yes, and then after that Jean said—"

You cut off the rest of his story by shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, and when Kaeya managed to swallow it he was met with the sight of your smug smile and your eyes still bleary from laughing. 

"There's no way all of that happened because of a rabbit," you said, to which he laughed good-naturedly, followed by a sip from his glass of wine.

"You'd be surprised what kinds of things Klee can get herself into."

You laughed again, and he took another drink of wine. Ah, he missed this, he thought. Missed the way the breeze here at Windrise smelled of asters, missed the way the moonlight trickled down through the leaves of the giant tree. 

(Most of all, he missed the little way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, but he'd prefer not to say that aloud, lest he be hit over the head with the wine bottle he brought along today—amnesia or not, he knew very well it was still within your strength to do so.)

Kaeya watched as you closed your eyes to enjoy the evening breeze, your hair like a wildfire in the breeze. You looked at him then, your eyes heavy with a certain lucidity that he couldn't name, but still managed to shake him somehow.

"...I'm in love with you, Kaeya."

When he smirked and said, "So I get to brag that I made you fall for me twice?" he was met with the same indignant, doe-eyed glare from all those years ago.

"I'm being serious!" you exclaimed, but he only laughed again, and covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. Before you could protest again, he kissed the back of his own hand and pulled away, a cheeky grin on his lips.

"Where'd all that bravado go, Mr. Casanova?"

Kaeya was hit with a pang of nostalgia, then. He looked at you, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold breeze and embarrassment alike, and his smile only widened further.

"Hmm? Think you can do any better, dearest?"

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Wildflower

Yooooo impromptu nsfw fic!? On this fine evening!? As if you don't know me! Y'all want soft wet Eren and I deliver.

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Summary: You and eren find yourselves tangled with each other after a swim in the lake, things take a much warmer turn from there.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+

The lake was beautiful at this time of the day.

A soft evening breeze blew the fresh smell of blooming wildflowers around. Mellow tints of camomile and lavender lingered in your nostrils, blended with water lillies and hibiscus struck you tenderly, brushing your senses beautifully. The forest green leaves around you shimmered an entirely different colors under the thousand golden rays of the blushing sun. Numerous duos of butterflies fflickered and flapped their wings on each other, twisting and turning in the air as they seemingly kissed, landing on perky petals and hoovering with each other under the tangerine light.

Yet here you were; drainched and shivering, laid on a thin sheet of clothe, cold as ever, but burning up from your core and outwards.

"Eren"

The whisper of his name was silent, lost in the heart of the forest, overlapped by the sounds of nature as the sun was shyly hiding underneath the horizon. Still it reached his ears and his ears only, just like he thristed for.

He too was shivering and very pale and as sweat begged to drip from the pores of his skin, it merged with the flowing water that the two of you had been bathing in only moments ago.

His lips were sucking yours in with need, worrying your flesh with arrogance before his time guess dared to dip in the crevices of your mouth. His palms were always supporting, always cupping your face to sink his head closer into you. His tongue rubbed yours with twirling motions, dipping and swiping in any place he could manage to drag it on.

"You have such a lovely voice."

"I do?"

"You do" Eren said. "You're making my -ah- my heart melt."

Turquoise orbs locked with yours, his sharp nose brushed over the tip of yours, his hand coming to cup tenderly just the underside of your jaw line. The cold, wet fabric of his shirt brushed over your naked skin, hanging so low that when you'd stick your forehead to his collar bone you could see the view of his hips as they remained frozen and in collision with yours.

"Eren, please, please move."

"Shh." His lips brushed over yours with animalistic need, but he never placed a kiss on you. "I just want to stay like this for a while, to look at you, you're so beautiful under this light."

With a sharp breath creating commotion on your side you felt like your lungs were spent. His plum lower lip sank under his teeth as he looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing together and away from his eyelids in what seemed like utter, horrible pain.

Maybe it was painful. No, it definitely was painful. The fact that he wouldn't move inside you, the way your hardened buds brushed with his shirt. The sly adoration that glimmered in his gentle turquoise eyes. We're you ever in a position to chose a single memory to keep of his it would be this very moment.

That was if he would let you think clear.

With one thumb flicking over your most sensitive bundle of nerves occasionally and the squirm inside the depths of your chest, you instinctively brought your hands to cup his own face eager to clash his lips against yours. Your hips finally made a movement of their own accord; you bucked forward and into the small surface of the tip of his finger, searching desperately for some rythimc friction.

You found yourself pushing against him hard and fast, so much that the evening breeze was finally starting to become evident, forming little bumps on the surface of your wet skin. Another short lived shiver ravaged your body and you gasped, you forehead linked with his collar bone. Before your eyes, you could see his hand hiding just between your legs, rubbing just on the spot you wanted, and it only added to your lust.

With a hitched breath, you let out a soft mewl and earned one from the brunet in response.

"Fuck!" Eren snarled and his hand came to dig absurdly on the ground next to you.

With the twirling of his hips inside you, he bucked slightly before he hoisted him self out of you and aligned the tip of his length with your entrance, sliding it teasingly over you.

"I love you." He said and clashed his forehead with the prominent tip of your jaw.

Your heart throbbed the instant he uttered the words yet he de ied you the chance to look him in the eye. Whether from embarrassment or shame, whether because the little scarlet tint on his cheeks was something he was insecure about, he took away from you the right of being able to lock your gaze with his. And somewhere between not being able to look into his eyes and being teased by his slow rhythm against you, you felt lost and swallowed by the words you wanted to speak back to him.

Perhaps he knew your answer. That he could probably be why he didn't demand it.

Still, your heart slightly ached at the slight melancholy of his tone.

You were being swallowed as a whole by the slow dragging of his member across you, by the way that you could see he held him self just below his fleshy tip to take a lead and establish his self control. He didn't want to thrust inside you and establish a pace, he was making that obvious. The pained expression in his face was more likely due to that, the paleness of his skin gave him away.

"Don't you love me?"

It came out like a cry, a whine, like a little brawl of a hurt puppy and it hit hit you like a monstrus tide. Had Eren always been able of making such lewd sounds?

"Of course i- of course I do." You stuttered, the throbbing heat that thrilled your abdomen fueling by your confession.

You could only sense how much he was enjoying it; the hiccuped breaths he let out, the tight clentching of his abdomen muscles, the veins in his hands that flexed as he pressed into the abnormal soil with the fact of his palm, the stray strands of wet hair that shimered im tiny droplets at their base as they flickered on your skin, it all added to that.

"I feel so dirty." He whispered and you knew to what he was reffering.

"But you're not."

"That's exactly how I feel though."

"Not for me, you're not what everyone paint you to be."

"Then promise me you'll hold my hand." He growled. "That you won't leave my side with what's to come."

Right after hot slowly dragged his teeth the the length of your jaw, his breath was on your ear, hot against your skin despite the cold evening air. The hiffs of his nose shot like steam over the crook of your neck and unbeknownst to you they preppee the area for what was to come.

"I promise."

Eren's lips attacked you, the launched over the tender skin of your neck, the hot torture of his tongue and teeth beginning a sweet massacre against all the little sweet spots he knew you had. You only pressed your head against the sheet of cloth harder, accepting the little defeat of your own personal ego. You were glad you didn't have to worry about being audible into the heart of the woods.

Your body was jolting against his touch, your pelvis, sore and needy in its movements slowly gave in the the build up in the aftermath or Eren's teasing. A hand came to grip on Eren's flexed bicep, your fingertips digging painfully into his skin everytime the feeling became unbearable for you to handle. You were going numb, painfully numb but you seemed to savor your release for later, you repeatedly told yourself that you could do it.

The little drizzling of cicadas had started spreading throughout the air by now, from the corner of your strained eye you could see some of them flying around, some birds chirping and flying inside their little nests as the last specs of sunlight peaked right between the enormous trees. Nature was celebrating another endearing late spring sunset and here you were, feeling the dear melancholy of a delayed edge.

It was only when Eren shifted his weight onto you that you immediately run your hands through his hair, throwing a chocolate lock away from his tired eyes just to finally get the chance to look at him. This time it was you who took so long tracing his jawline, it was you you placed chaste kissed across his face, chin, the corners of his so well outlined lips.

"Eren, I love you no matter what," You whispree, eyes closed as your heart hammered in your chest. "you don't have to hold back with me."

Whether he did it because you genuinely convinced him of your words or because he wanted to get this over with, you didn't know. All that you knew what that your legs were forced over his shoulders, and that his hand was cupping your cheek with force, desperately clutching on you as he finally slammed his throbbing member inside of you.

Puckered lips and glistering skin, angry brows and a menacing look, it all added to the occasional gulp he'd force upon himself, it all took away from the moans he failed to let out. The little grunts he left were due time the brutality of his rhythm and they were so unique but still overlapped by the sound of skin clapping and clashing.

You only gave a little moan and surrendered to the feeling, your coiling stomach refusing to allow you to hold your orgasm in for any longer. Your legs went still, your toes curled and flexed and your walls clenched around him. You let out a panting mewl as you felt your whole body giving into the immediate trance of afterglow.

Eren only grunted at the feeling, thrusting himself faster into you before barely managing to pull out, a hand coming to his length to guide the spurting white rope that emitted from the tip anywhere away from you.

"I'm so sorry" He panted, and finally his head nuzzled to the crook of your neck almost painfully.

"I got you Eren. You don't have to have a single worry in the world at the moment."

And he truly wished he didn't

[angryschnauzer]

Overnight

Summary: It may have been a mistake to get off the highway, your car breaking down on an abandoned back road. But just in time a tow truck appears, and the mechanics garage isn't far away... but when you find out the parts will be delivered overnight, you storm off towards town... and somehow find yourself where you least expect.

Pairing: AU Mechanic Chris Evans x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Dubious Consent, AU, Greasy Mechanic Chris, Backroads Fic, Unprotected Sex, Thunderstorms, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, unprotected anal sex, Sloppy Seconds, Kitchen Sex, Dark Chris, Slightly Creepy Fic

A/N: This is a slightly twisted story, i wouldn’t say it was ‘dark’, but it does have a slightly sinister undertone. I’m also tagging it as dub-con (dubious consent) as although reader never says no, she is never asked either. This is very much a work of fiction, and i urge the reader to take responsibility for their online consumption, so ensure you read the warnings before reading and then only proceed once you have accepted what this story may contain. It is not a light and fluffy fic.

I do not operate a tag list, but you can follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as every time i post a story i will reblog there. I have too many stories to do a masterlist, but you can find my entire back catalgoue on AO3 through THIS LINK.

A while back i also wrote a Seb AU Mechanic fic, and here is the link for that: Caught In The Storm

Overnight

You should NOT have turned off the interstate. Sure, you would be stuck in bumper to bumper tailbacks in the searing heat, but surely it would have been better than this. The further you’d driven, the worse your car had sounded, the metallic clanking sound getting louder and louder the further you drove. Something made a loud THUD and you felt the power steering go, and glancing in your rear-view mirror a large oil patch was appearing behind your car as it slowly started to cough and splutter, before coasting to a halt on the side of the cracked road. As the engine died you thumped the steering wheel, cursing and screaming at the broken piece of junk, before with heavy limbs you pulled yourself from the car. 

 Standing on the rough gravel at the side of the road, your hands on your hips, you glowered at the car, a faint hiss of steam coming from beneath the hood. The sun beat down and you could feel the heat of the day sinking into your bones, gnats and midges trying to gnaw at your skin as you slapped them angrily away. Dark clouds grew on the horizon but did little to obscure the beating sun high above you. 

 Checking your cell phone you weren’t surprised to see the no service icon, you were in the middle of nowhere, more likely to be dragged into the surrounding swamp and eaten by god knows what than to be able to call anyone. Just as you were lamenting your woes, the sound of an old diesel engine came rumbling to yours ears, and glancing down the road you saw an ancient tow truck coming into view. Standing in the road you waved your arms to flag the vehicle down; even if it couldn’t help then maybe it could take you to a working phone.

 The truck came to a stop in front of your car, and as the engine cut off and the driver’s door opened, you felt your body go tight. The man that climbed down from the cab looked like sin on a Sunday, long denim clad legs striding towards you, ball cap on backwards doing little to shade his face from the pounding sunshine, and a t-shirt that seemed to be painted onto his broad chest and wide shoulders;

 “In a spot of trouble there darlin’?”

 You let out a huff, you weren’t about to let some back roads hick try and charm his way into your panties… though said panties were suddenly becoming damper by every second he stood close to you. Shaking your head, you stood tall and puffed your chest out;

 “My car has died. If I could borrow your phone to call Triple A, I haven’t got any signal on mine…”

 The guy looked you up and down, his gaze resting on your chest as a bead of perspiration ran down your neck and between your breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips;

 “AAA don’t come out here, its subcontracted out to us locals. I’m on my way back to the garage now if you want a tow Sweetheart?”

 Letting out a deep sigh you nodded, returning to your car to grab your purse as the man started to unreel the towing line and called out to you;

 “Hop up into the cab Princess, this won’t take a moment”

 Rolling your eyes at the pet names you bit your tongue; the guy was after all helping you out. Gripping the handle of the tow trucks door you looked down at the old worn paintwork ‘Evans Autos’. You quickly fished your phone out of your bag and snapped a shot, setting it to upload to the iCloud once you got in range of any signal… at least that way if this greasy backroads mechanic chopped you into little pieces you had left a trail of evidence. 

 Pulling the door open you let out a small yelp when you came face to face with a big brown dog sitting on the passenger seat;

 “Scoot!”

 The dog looked at you with utter disdain, and firmly remained sat on the seat. Waving your hands a little you frowned at it;

 “C’mon, scoot over!”

 Over the sound of the towing winch whining at it pulled your car up onto the truck, you heard the mechanic call out;

 “You’ll have to climb over Dodge… he likes the window seat”

 Turning back to the big mutt you could have sworn it had a smug ‘so there’ look on its face, and as you climbed up and around the dog, you sat in the middle of the wide bench seat. Looking around you couldn’t find any seatbelts, so just sat with your hands firmly clasped in your lap. The sounds of lockers being shut hit your ears before the driver’s door opened and the mechanic climbed into the seat next to you and grinned;

 “Best hold on Babe, it’s a bumpy ride to the garage”

 “I’ll be fine, thanks” you muttered as he gunned the engine and pulled away.

 -

 He hadn’t been lying; the roads were atrocious. With each bump and pothole you were bounced closer to him, the dog the other side of you seemingly able to spread out across not only his seat but part of yours. You could have sworn the mechanic was aiming for every single bump possible just to be able to watch your breasts bounce as the truck hit each stone. 

 With each jolt and jiggle your thigh was pressed closer and closer against his, and when the truck hit a huge hole in the road you felt yourself almost  lifted from the seat, suddenly pinned back by his strong arm quickly thrown across your torso to hold you down and from slipping from the seat. The skin of his tattooed bicep was pressed against the exposed neckline and chest, his scent invading your senses; a warm spicy aftershave and motor oil and gasoline. You could feel your panties getting wetter as your legs parted so you could plant your feet on the dusty floor of the truck but it did little to alleviate the aching between your thighs. 

 Finally he slowed the truck and turned the wheel into a sharp left-hand turn, the truck bouncing along a gravel driveway until an old wooden auto shop came into view. Pulling the truck to a stop he climbed out, holding his hand out for you;

 “Dodge likes to sleep in the cab…”

 Rolling your eyes you took his hand and climbed out as gracefully as you could, your short sundress sticking to the seat before you yanked it down to retain what was left of your dignity;

 “So Babycakes, there’s a coupla’ chairs round the side if you want to take a seat whilst I look at your car, and an icebox on the counter just inside the shop, help yourself to a water”

 “Umm, thanks”

 -

 You glanced at the time on your phone. You’d been waiting three hours; the sound of your car being taken to pieces by the mechanic was all you’d heard for most of that time. The only thing that seemed to have changed in those three hours was the humidity rising and the storm clouds coming closer. Rising to your feet you stretched your limbs and turned the corner of the auto shop, glancing at the mechanic as he lay on the floor below your sorry looking car as it was raised on the hydraulic lift;

 “Sir?”

 “Chris”

 “What?”

 “It’s Chris, not Sir…”

 “Ok, Chris. Do you know how much longer it’ll be?”

 Chris pulled himself out from beneath your car, wiping his hands on a rag that was hanging from the back pocket of his jeans;

 “For today, I’ll probably be done in an hour…”

 “Great!”

 “... but I need to overnight the parts I need, so it won’t be ready until tomorrow”

 “What? When were you going to tell me that?”

 “I’ve just ordered the parts Honey”

 You let out a grunt of frustration;

 “Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow… you could have told me sooner”

 You turned on your heel and started to walk away;

 “Where ya’ goin’?”

 “To find a motel, or a guesthouse, or somewhere to stay at!”

 “On foot?!”

 “YES!”

 -

 You had stormed off, anger driving your feet as your white sneakers slowly got covered in brown dust that puffed up from the gravel driveway with every step you took towards the road. Finally you reached the cracked asphalt, taking a sharp right-hand turn and you started along the road. By now the humidity was hanging in the air and it felt like you were walking through soup. Even the midges had given up, their tiny wings not strong enough to cut through the cloying stillness. The sun was now obscured by dark clouds, but you continued on. Finally a crossroads came into view, and you willed your heat-tired muscles to push on, coming to the sign and stopping. The shortest distance was to take a right, so scrambling over the accumulated gravel you continued your journey. 

 -

 An hour later your legs were weary. Your dress clung to your skin as sweat beaded across your brow, down your chest and back. You held your arms out as you walked, hoping just by moving they would cool your skin, but having little affect.

 Finally a small house came into view, further buildings behind it mostly hidden by trees. The hair on your arms stood on end with Goosebumps and you could smell petrichor on the air, you knew the storm was about to break. Quickening your step you found the energy to trot down the rest of the way, past the worn mailbox with most of the letters worn away, the last three just spelling out ‘van’, but you were oblivious, the first raindrop hitting your skin and you sprinted towards the house. 

 By the time you reached the porch the parts of your dress that weren’t stuck to your skin due to sweat were doing so thanks to the rain. A crack of thunder boomed as a flash of lightning lit the sky, and as you cowered under the porch you heard a bark and a very wet brown dog suddenly ran for cover, shivering on the doorstep. Another crack of thunder made you jump, and the dog cowered against you, you crouching down to wrap your arms around the scared creature. Looking at the name tag that hung from its collar you read it; ‘Dodger’, and your heart plummeted to your stomach. Before you could even fathom what had happened, a familiar voice was behind you;

 “You were walking over an hour and you still manage to find your way back here?”

 Turning you looked out to the lawn where Chris stood, the rain pouring over him, his t-shirt stuck to every curve of his body and his jeans hanging low on his narrow hips. Slowly striding towards you he wiped the rain from his face as he stepped under the porch, reaching around you and opening the door to the small cabin;

 “You took a right and another right, didn’t ya?”

 “How did you…?”

 “Well, if you hadn’t stormed off in a huff, I woulda told you to turn left at the end of the driveway. Instead walked a giant triangle and found yourself back here”

 You let out a strangled noise, not quite a cry, not quite a scream, before your body sagged;

 “Can you… can you give me a ride into town?”

 “Nope”

 “No?!”

 “The town is tiny. All we got is a church, a market, and a drug store. Nearest motel ain’t for thirty miles, and you wouldn’t wanna stay there… unless you like cockroaches”

 You could feel your bottom lip quiver, trying to hold back the tears before Chris’s voice softened;

 “I got a couch you can stay on, no funny business, no obligations…”

 He was close, so close. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and you found your mouth moving before your brain could stop it;

 “What if I wanted funny business?”

 There was no more preamble, no more hesitating, he stepped forwards, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other on your waist as he pulled your body flush against his own, his lips meeting yours.

 The kiss was fierce, your mouth willingly opening as his tongue pushed against your own, dancing together as you tasted one another. His hand on your hip pulled at your dress, curling it up in his fingers until your skin was there to touch, his large hand gripping the soft cheek of your ass. He pushed you back, the hardness of the wooden clapperboards of his cabin rough against your skin, but you were blissfully unaware of it. He pressed one leg between yours and you ground your hips against the firm denim clad muscle of his thigh, in turn the thick hardness that was growing between your bodies he rubbed against your hip, moaning into your mouth as the friction helped release some of the tension that had built during the day. 

 Snaking a hand between your bodies, your dress had already ridden up so he was easily able to slide a hand into your panties, leaving streaks of motor oil across the pale fabric as he sought out your clit. Pushing two wide fingers down he found your soaked entrance and gathered some of your wetness, before bringing his fingers back and rubbing firm circles against your sensitive bud. His lips parted from yours, resting his forehead to your own for a moment you panted into his mouth, the air between you hot and thick, before those kiss plump lips make their way to your neck, sucking and licking at your jugular as his beard scratched against your skin. 

 Your head lolled back and rested against the wooden side of the building, the storm raging around you as you felt your orgasm starting to build. Your hands clung to Chris’s strong arms, his skin patterned with tattoos that you yearned to run your fingertips over tenderly. Your body started to shake, your orgasm growing closer as that coil in the pit of your stomach wound ever tighter, your hand finding its way to the firm bulge that was pressing against your hip, and as you squeezed the hot muscle through the denim you started to come, Chris’s mouth finding your own against as he swallowed your cries of passion. 

 He stilled his fingers as you trembled against him, quickly unfastening the buttons of his fly and pushing the garment down just enough to free his thick cock, taking hold of your thighs as he lifted you.  With strong hands he gripped at your panties before ripping them from your body, the ruined pieces of cotton falling to the floor at your feet. You felt the wide tip press against your still trembling entrance and with a grunt he thrust into you, filling you completely as you screamed out his name.

 You clung to him as he started to fuck you roughly against the wall, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting being drowned out by the storm now wild overhead. With each thrust your body was sent to heavy, the thick stretch of him inside you making your legs tremble as he held one leg over his hip, letting you try and keep the other held up as he pawed at your breasts, pulling your dress and bra down until you spilled out, your tits bouncing with each of his powerful thrusts. 

 No words were spoken, your moans the only thing that could leave your lips as Chris fucked you so hard you were sure you’d never be able to close your legs again and made roadkill of your pelvis with his powerful thrusts. You were trembling around him and you were getting closer and closer to coming again. His lips were on your neck again and muttering the dirtiest things in your ear;

 “Are you gonna cum on my cock babe? Make me fill you with my cum until its dripping down your legs… you’re squeezing me so damn tight, gonna pump you full then take you inside, make you sit on my face, would you like that? Wanna feel my tongue on your cunt?”

 “Oh fuck… Chris, yes… fuck, keep going…”

 He laughed quietly before picking up speed, the slapping sound of his heavy sac against your ass filling your ears as the wide root of his cock rubbed and dragged against your clit. With a grind of his hips you were coming, your fingernails clinging to his back as you shook with pleasure, triggering his own orgasm as he pumped hot ropes of creamy seed deep within your womb.

 Holding you against the wall, he kissed you, his tongue working against your own before he slowly pulled out of you, letting your feet fall to the floor. Your head swam from the pleasure surging through your body, only partially aware of Chris pulling his jeans up enough to keep them on his hips before he wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you inside.

 Moments later you were being dropped onto a large bed, the covers messy from when the previous occupant had simply gotten up and dressed that morning, and you watched as Chris stripped his soaked clothes from his body before crawling onto the bed, his gaze feral as he pressed a line of kisses up your sternum before his lips found yours again. His fingers worked deftly against the ties of your wrap summer dress, pulling it open and helping you to wriggle out of it; all whilst his lips never left yours. 

 Finally he pulled away, his strong arms bulging as he flipped you over and pulled your hips up until you were resting on your knees. His wide tongue pulled a thick stripe through your cum soaked folds, from clit to asshole, before grinding his face against your crotch. His tongue was everywhere, sucking on your clit before moving to your well fucked entrance, then moving up and pressing against the tight ring of muscle between your asscheeks. With more insistence he pushed his tongue against your back door and you sighed into the old sheets below you, your fingers curling in the cotton as he slid two thick fingers into your soaked channel whilst his tongue worked against your asshole. When his thumb found your clit a shockwave bolted through you, your scream into the mattress from sheer pleasure as you unashamedly ground back against him, moaning his name as your legs shook. He pulled his mouth away and spat on your asshole, working a finger in up to the knuckle and you started to cum, his fingers in your cunt rubbing against that spongy spot whilst his thumb worked figure eights over your clit, and you found yourself squirting your release as you screamed with pleasure.

 You were aware of Chris pulling away, your body trembling and fluid in the prone position. You heard the quiet click of the cap of a bottle before a cool viscous liquid was slowly spread over your ass. The touch of Chris’s fingers exploring your most hidden of places had you pushing back against his touch, relaxing as he slid two oiled fingers slowly into your ass, massaging you, stretching you. By now you were drooling, your tongue working against the cotton sheet as you bore down as he pushed a third finger into your ass, the quiet squirt of more oil being applied directly inside you had you knowing what was coming, and humming a low moan as you felt his fingers pull away only to be replaced with the well-oiled fat crown of his cock. 

 Turning your head you watched as he pushed the wide mushroom into your tight ring of muscle, groaning as your secret walls gripped him so hard. His large hands pulled your cheeks apart and he spat on his dick as he started to push into you, filling you, parting your walls with his meaty girth. You could feel every vein and ridge as he pushed harder, reaching around and rubbing at your clit whilst he rocked his hips back and forth before he was finally balls deep in your ass. 

 “So fuckin’ good, feel so tight around my dick Baby, taking me so well... “

 His mouth was as dirty as you had hoped, praising you for taking his dick in your ass as he started to fuck you, pushing his legs open to widen your own and allow him in even deeper. Your hands scrambled at the covers trying to find something to grip onto, some sort of purchase, before he was suddenly pulling your arms behind your back and gripping your wrists with his massive hands. Folding your arms across your sweat drenched back he used them to anchor himself as he fucked your ass even harder, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you as your empty cunt ached to be filled. As if reading your thoughts - or you could even have said it aloud, who knows you were so high on pleasure - he grasped your arms in one large hand before curling the other arm beneath you, pushing three fingers into your soaked pussy as he fucked your ass so hard you doubted you’d be able to sit down for a week without feeling it.

 “Fuck… gonna cum Baby, gonna fill this ass with cum so deep…”

 “Yes... Chris, FUCK, fuck my ass, I want your cum…”

 “My fucking gorgeous anal cum slut, your cunt is gorgeous, but I’m gonna fuck this ass from now on… never had an ass this good, this tight… gonna have you gaping by the time I’ve finished with you… my cum dripping down your legs, gonna make sure you never wear panties again, need you ready for me to bend you over and push my dick up this tight ass to fill you with another load…”

 Your orgasm took over, gripping Chris’s dick and fingers so hard it set his orgasm off, a second wave of your orgasm so intense that as you felt your body milking Chris, the room went dark and you blacked out.

 -

 The room was dark, the sound of rain outside soothing to your ears as you tried to figure out where you were, then snippets of your memory came back; your car, the garage, Chris… the storm… fucking him… Turning you saw him quietly asleep beside you, you winced as your muscles protested against moving, but the need for water and the bathroom was too much as you quickly slipped out of the room. 

 Having found the bathroom, you attempted to clean yourself up a little before walking through the small cabin to the kitchen, taking a glass from the counter before filling it and drinking the whole thing at the sink and filling it again. Two warm hands wrapped themselves around your naked body from behind, warm lips and a rough beard found your neck and Chris started to kiss along your shoulders, his hands finding your naked breasts as he cupped them whilst grinding his hard dick into the crease of your ass. Setting the glass down you spread your legs a little wider, and a warm hum of appreciation reverberated through Chris’s chest as he dipped his hips whilst pushing you forwards over the old porcelain sink, the smooth crown of his dick pushing against your used asshole, and you felt the pop as he sank into your cum soaked walls.

 Groaning as you leaned forwards and gripped the cool porcelain, you opened yourself up for him as he ploughed into your murky depths, his thick thighs pushing your legs wide apart before he lifted one of your knees until it was resting on the countertop, your other foot only just reaching the floor as you were stood on your toes, Chris fucking your ass harder this time, gripping your hips as he filled you again and again. His hands moved to your breasts and he pinched your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling the hardened teats until they were painfully hard. Snaking his hands up your front he wrapped his fingers over your shoulders so he could pull you back onto him harder, his thrusts increasing in speed. Your cunt was leaking juices down your inner thighs, and with each thrust his heavy sac would slap against it, reminding you of its emptiness, and you found yourself begging;

 “Chris please… fill my pussy…”

 Chuckling he pulled one hand down and spat on it before pushing three fingers into you, all whilst continuing to fill your ass with his fat cock;

 “You like that? You like having all your holes stuffed? You’re just begging to be filled, used, fucked…”

 “Oh fuck… harder… fuck me harder…”

 With a grunt he increased the speed of his thrusts, the front of your thighs pushing painfully against the sink, your leg muscles screaming at the way you were stretched wide open, but the pleasure was too intense to stop, you needed it, you needed the release.

 You came again and Chris fucked you straight through it, somehow finding the skill to fuck you even harder, sliding a fourth finger into your slick channel as he stretched you so wide. Your head swam, the sound of the storm outside closing the world in around you, and as you came again so did he, filling your ass with another load of his cum.

 Afterwards he carried you to his bed, wrapping his hard body around yours as you fell into a dreamless sleep, the reality of the world far far away.

 -

 Handing over the keys you smiled at Chris as you took them from him. Your body ached and was sore beyond belief, but it was certainly a night to remember. You had slept in until well past midday, only waking when your stomach had growled from not eating anything. Picking at some leftovers in Chris’s fridge, you’d found your soaked sundress draped over the back of a kitchen chair, pulling it on you shivered at the damp touch of the fabric before you’d stepped out of the cabin and found Chris fitting the parts he’d had on overnight delivery to your car. The bill had been more than you had expected - the parts costing more than you had in your purse - so when Chris had smirked at you and suggested an alternative payment, you had sighed with pleasure as he’d fucked you bent over the hood of your car, his dick filling your cunt as he had three fingers stretching your ass. You’d cum so hard you were left shaking, and he had pulled out just before he came only to push an inch into your ass and fill you with another load of his cum.

 With your keys in hand you kissed him, your tongues sloppy before you pulled away just as the sound of tyres could be heard on the rough gravel of his driveway, another tow truck pulling up alongside Chris’s. 

 Sitting in your car you gave him a wave as you pulled away, watching the garage disappear into the distance before you turned your attention onto the road ahead, pulling out onto the dry again asphalt, another summer storm starting to gather on the horizon.

 -

 Not thirty minutes later you were standing at the side of the road, kicking the flat tyre before screaming out at the sky in frustration. You checked your cell phone, groaning when you saw the out of service sign, before stashing it back in your purse. 

 The sound of an old diesel engine could be heard in the distance, and you looked up to the sky before closing your eyes;

 “No… it can’t be…”

 Taking a deep breath with your eyes still closed, you heard the engine get closer until it came to an idle beside you, and familiar voice greeting you;

 “Baby… you need a ride?”

 Chris hopped out of the cab, slipping his hand beneath your dress and giving your ass a squeeze;

 “Gotta watch out for that sharp gravel, it’ll blow tyres out real bad…”

 -

 Sitting in the cab you watched as Chris hooked your car back onto the tow truck, before ducking back inside the truck, this time just the two of you;

 “Where’s Dodger?”

 “Sleeping on the porch… Now, we’re gonna have to order you a new tyre Baby…”

“Let me guess, it’ll be delivered overnight?”

 He leant back and started to unbutton his jeans;

 “You never got to taste my dick last night… how about you try it now whilst I finger that ass ready for the next round? Huh Baby?”

 Settling onto your knees on the wide seat, you took him into your mouth, sucking him as he started the truck, unaware of the rusty nail that he dropped into the pocket of the door, a small piece of tyre rubber still attached to it… he’d found you, and he wasn’t about to let you drive off into the sunset...

[c-rose2081]

A Letter from Grace

—

My life, as most people’s do, began at an ungodly hour on October 31st, 1918. Father admitted once that it was the longest witching hour of his life, and that he hadn’t slept at all the days prior due to worry over the birth. I was born three months earlier then expected, and mother liked to say that I was the smallest, most fragile little baby she’d ever laid eyes on. Just the size of a decent eggplant from the market; perfectly suited to sit in the palm of your hand.

Tension was high that night, as Influenza had already taken many infants in the local Hospital. So I was born in the dark privacy of my Grandfathers New York Estate, passed down for three generations already. Father was excited to have a fourth Generation to which he could pass his legacy, or so I was told. Swaddled expertly by a matron of almost sixty years who Mother claimed to trust with her life, for a single moment everything was perfect; just my parents and their little baby girl who they named Grace.

But my weakness would not be chased away so easily.

Though I don’t remember much of the early years, I recall father once telling me that I had broken two fingers, and cracked my head open before I could even walk. Doctors who came to the house claimed my bones simply weren’t strong enough yet; that I needed more calcium which my mothers milk couldn’t seem to provide. But by the time I was on my own two feet, tottering about the manor as most young children do, bruises, breaks, and scratches had the staff and my poor parents on edge. It was around this time as well my own heart decided to betray me. It wasn’t normal for such a young child to be fatigued as quickly as I was, nor was it normal for her breathing to sound like the hard start of an automobile.

Up until the age of six, when I begin to remember some (if only a little) of my childhood, no one - no local physician nor expert - could figure out what was wrong with me. Everything, yet nothing, was the matter. Mother - who was a journalist for National Geographic - traveled and was away for long periods during this time. And though I can recall day dreaming of the many fantastic and wondrous locales she must’ve seen, it left my worrying father to…well, worry about me. It seemed falling down the stairs face first at my local day school and not only cracking my head open again, but also breaking two ribs and promptly becoming unconscious, was enough to send him reeling over the edge of hysteria for my well-being.

During my long and tedious recovery from that single incident, I caught a devilish sickness. No one knows where it had come from; another student in my school perhaps, or from a simple passing stranger. But Father claimed he had paid a fortune in phone calls to Africa in order to speak with mother who was (at the time) photographing Elephants. She came straight home of course, only to find her little girl pale and as close to death as one could be.

It’s all a bit hazy, as my brain was still young; feverish and half-delusional. But I can remember the lingering smell of tobacco on fathers hands and ground into his silk lapels as he cradled me, rubbing my back as I coughed and struggled to catch a breath. And I can still hear mother’s voice as she sat by the bedside, telling me of the many animals she had seen while in Africa. I dreamed of lions and elephants in those hours, blearily staring at nothing as lamplight flickered across damp windowpanes from an evening rainfall. I recovered slowly but surely, but that first flu had taken something out of me. Something I wasn’t ever able to get back, even as I grew older.

I was just about to turn seven, finally healthy again, when I was no longer permitted to leave the grounds. Mother and Father had a very long, loud conversation about it in the library, to which I listened in through the mahogany door. There was to be no more school; just private tutors who I would soon come to spite. No more Summer games in the park, or long nights under strings of electric lights at the carnival. No possibility of family trips, or late night escapades to the Ice Cream parlor for frozen cherries and whipped cream. There was to be no world for me beyond the fence of the Estate.

To keep me safe, Father claimed.

It was only a day after that the wheelchair made its first appearance in my life. Father insisted it would help with my heart; protect it from beating to fast from running, or walking about to quickly. Mother disagreed with the notion, I could see it on her face as I was settled into the wicker seat for the first time, but she said nothing. I hated it instantly. I wanted to run and play, and roll about in the grass like the kids at my school could. I used to envy their ability to get high, high up into the branches above the schoolyard, perched at the top with the world at their feet. I never dared try for myself, lest Father decide to cut all the trees down if he ever saw me in one.

It wasn’t bad at first; Mother stayed with me those beginning months, occupying my mind with stories of her travels and long games of chess. She began me in piano lessons, and helped with my cursive. But it wasn’t long before she once again had to leave; India this time, to photograph wild tigers. The day she left it felt like some huge part of me went with her. Father tried his best of course, and I remember riding on his shoulders or in his arms with fondness. But he was a busy man, often called away to the city for one thing or another.

The staff of course did their best, but babysitting a squirmy young girl certainly wasn’t in their daily agenda. My nursemaid - the same woman who birthed me (nasty old crone) - was a harsh matron who allowed for little beyond what was deemed safe and allowable by my Father. It was always lessons in the morning; the usual subjects of maths, geography, history, natural sciences and the like. This clockwork schedule was followed by etiquette and tea time, piano lessons, art, literature and penmanship.

I did get some exercise, but I was always well watched by Matron and at least two other members of staff. Some days it was a casual swim, no longer then half an hour, and on Saturday it was a light waltzing lesson (privately taught of course). And - on the rare occasion I could bully the other staff into it - a game of croquet or darts on the lawn. But there was little time for fun, despite my Fathers pleasure at my supposed ‘safety’, and I each day I felt some small part of me die.

I was 13 when the next incident occurred. Some local boys who I’d never seen before wandered close to our garden fence. Matron had left me to my afternoon reading as to fetch coffee (which I had come to prefer over tea). Mother - according to her letters - was someplace in China, hunting down Rhinoceros. Father had left earlier that morning to meet with investors at his office in the city. It was a rare moment I was truly alone. The boy, who’s name I can’t recall now, smiled at me. It was a cute, boyish grin and I can still remember how startled I was by it. After all I hadn’t seen anyone in what felt like years (at least six, to be exact). He urged me close to the fence.

At that point I was desperate to be out of my wheelchair, so I walked to him. He nodded to the lovely apple tree which I had been sitting under, and asked if I could climb it to fetch him one of the fruit. Of course I said no, as climbing was strictly prohibited, but he was quite a smooth talker for a boy so young. He called me pretty, and dove, and all the sweet things one calls a girl to make her waver in her convictions. And so - stupidly, might I say - I climbed the tree against my better judgement.

Three shiny red apples were tossed easily over the fence, one for each boy. They gave me a wave goodbye and ran off to do whatever they pleased. And then there was me, a fragile, tiny girl stuck up in a tree with no way down. Of course I didn’t mind at first, I was actually elated I had made the climb at all. I finally was able to see what my schoolmates had all those years ago. I could view the entire estate and beyond; I could stare at the horizon; seemingly endless in its reach. But as much as I yearned to stay above and away from my tiny world forever, Matron would soon return.

Getting out of the tree was much more complicated then climbing into it.

I remember the horrible feeling of miscalculation; falling and hitting the soft earth with a terrible grunt. Something inside me cracked, and my lungs exploded with fire as I wheezed out a cry of pain. I don’t remember now who had seen me first; one of the yard staff perhaps, but Matron was furious. Once again I was bedridden, pretending to sleep as Father puffed on his favorite ivory pipe just outside my bedroom door. He mentioned to Matron the idea of adding straps to the wheelchair, as to keep me from falling. I remember whimpering under the blankets at the thought of being tied to the thing, and sobbing myself to sleep that night.

The years came and went, and I felt more and more heavy with each passing hour. I didn’t leave the wheelchair again until I was 16, and simply couldn’t stand the bloody thing anymore. I would sit in chairs, or on window sills. I’d spend time in the woven hammock in the garden, or lounge across the evening sofas. Any place I could sit, I would, simply to avoid being stuck in the contraption I loathed. I got sick more often during these middle years; on again off again fevers and dizzy spells that left me dazed and began the chain of worrying my father and caretakers all over again.

There were endless nights alone where I’d stare at my naked form in the mirror in golden lamplight, using a finger to count the ribs poking from under my paper-like skin. It’s true my body was changing into that of a woman, but it hardly mattered when the lightest of touches could leave a mark on me the size of a continent.

Mother was traveling again, to and from as she always seemed to do. Letters and phone calls were exchanged often, and I often studied the places she traveled when she was away in my geography lessons. But it often felt like it was just Father and I against the world. He was dear of course, moving his work to the home office as illness became more common. He’d bring me gifts from the city; strings of diamonds and beautiful mink furs. A brand new motorcar, just for my use (not like I could ever go anywhere). But there really wasn’t much that could bring a smile to my face.

Burning the wheelchair and the Matron in a fire the size of Connecticut might have done it. But I didn’t have the heart to ask.

Father even hosted a large ball for my Birthday that year, with dancing and music and people. But even that couldn’t seem to bring my heart from its dark and lonely place. Only when Father allowed the wheelchair to be folded up and hidden away in the closet after almost ten years did I finally feel whole again. I was more careful after that; I did little to aggravate my condition. The fevers and fainting spells were still present, but the bruises and breaks healed. I took a fondness for the writings of Edgar Allen Poe, and Lewis Carroll’s Alice. I read the articles in National Geographic which Mother had sent in her letters over the years, and sketched the animals which she herself had photographed. For a while, everything finally seemed ok.

Until Mother returned home from her second trip to Africa deeply ill.

For the first time in my life, I finally felt what father must have for me every time I lay bedridden. I was only allowed to see her from the doorway, out of fear of me catching the disease as well. I wasn’t allowed to speak with anyone who entered or left the room, and Father had to bathe and keep his distance whenever he came to see me. I was 18 when she finally died in the night. This year. Though it feels like just yesterday.

Yellow Fever they said, from a mosquito bite in Africa.

Nothing - not the breaks, bruises, fevers or constant illness - prepared me to see my own mother dead. I wasn’t even allowed to see her; to say goodbye. I could only watch, held back by three of the staff, as she was carried out under a sheet. The Doctor had to sedate me for my own health after I managed to break loose and nearly fell down the stairs after her corpse. I woke up numb, and couldn’t convince myself to move for days after that. I knew I should’ve been grieving with father, but I couldn’t manage it. There was so much pain. The wheelchair came out of the closet again, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.

The funeral was attended, and the casket buried. Father and I didn’t speak much in those long weeks after; in fact I wondered if I even could. It felt like I hadn’t spoken in years. There was just a horrible, overwhelming chill in me, and I grew weaker with grief. After a few months, Father became worried for me, as did the house staff. They opened the windows, and trimmed the gardens. The rooms were dusted, and filled with light. I was taken outside the fence for the first time since I was a girl, in the automobile which I hadn’t ever used. But there was still only emptiness.

After four months, Father left the house to attend a meeting in the city. He returned with a man whom I didn’t recognize; a fancy man who bowed and kissed my hand and smiled from under his white mustache. He said his specialty was in dealing with those lost in grieving, and that perhaps it would be best if we (my father and I) left New York and all it’s memories behind. Naturally I was appalled at the idea, but couldn’t seem to match my face to my feelings.

Before I knew it the house was emptied out, packed into boxes and taken away by trucks and wagons. Anything not moved was sold at auction, and the house was passed on to the highest bidder.

“New Orleans, my little Bluebird,” Father told me as we settled in for the long journey by car across the country, leaving New York behind, “truly a city of culture. I’ve bought us a beautiful new home just outside town; you’ll love how big it is.”

And big it was. The old Hatchaway Estate was an ivory mansion in a traditional New England style. Surrounded by the most beautiful trees and well kept fields, it was a far cry from the fenced in world back home. The staff, pre-hired, were a gloomy looking bunch dressed in green and black stripes. But father liked their quiet (somewhat somber) fortitude, and so I said nothing as they helped us settle in. There was something…unusual about the new house. I could feel it the minute I walked through the door. A heaviness; like someone was watching me. It was just enough unease for me to forget my quiet grief for a moment.

I learned quickly that the house itself was seemingly unnerved. The first week I had seen at least two items move on their own, and heard giddy singing from the back garden only to find no one there. The staff was practically ghostly, saying very little to us, let alone one another. And I spent a lot of time exploring the grounds on my own. It was a few weeks after moving in, about a month before my 19th Birthday, that father hired two new drivers; a Mr. Harrod Fairchild, and Mr. Rudolph Martin to tend to the cars.

And this, my friends, is where I find myself now. Writing this overview of where I’ve been so far, and now disclosing with utmost discretion my newfound interest in the man father has hired in my name. Mr. Martin is…how to describe him is a puzzle. Handsome? Certainly. Charming? Quite so. I find myself endeared to his presence despite myself, and I grow weary of this…this little tickle of something other then emptiness that has suddenly flared up inside me. Have I once again caught ill? How to explain to father (or anyone really) this fever in me whenever he’s nearby. I’ve barely spoken to him, but have watched him tend to the car and grounds from the windows. I know he’s gentle, but still quite strong. I can sometimes hear him singing down there, leaning against the porch as he plays the banjo for the staff keeping the porch.

Every time I do get close, or think about approaching him myself, I feel that fever begin to rise and I wonder if something is truly very wrong with me. It feels like I’m dying, and I can hardly stand it. I’m bewitched. Perhaps it’s this terrible heat? What’s wrong with me?

I wish mother were here, she’d know what to do.

Eternally yours, dear reader

Grace

[lorei-writes]

Impression of Infinity

Vincent x Reader Fluff (?) Fantasy AU

Word Estimate: 1.5k

I blame @cheese-ception​ for this. Also, excuse typos, I literally wrote the last parts with closed eyes, because I can’t see anything just regardless - it’s all blur.

Content Warnings: none Disclaimer: Reader & Vincent are of the same age, Vincent just found himself in a very peculiar situation

Vincent’s finger twitches – and green grows between the rows of students, translucent, reaching up to the very ceiling. His wrist twists the brush by what could be an error margin, the swing of his arm summons purples, invites them alongside violets, to rest between the stars – and you watch very carefully, although you know you should observe his work, not him, that you should listen to his words, not the thumping filling your head… Yet how could you, if he has you charmed, if you cannot turn your eyes away? Vincent nearly dances, his cheeks growing redder from exercise, the canvas he chose being much greater than the body he inhabits. To paint it must be tiresome, you reckon, although your concerns vanish, the spark in his eyes causing something inside of you to sting. Clearly, he is not the same boy you used to know, not the one sentenced to the fate of failure due to his inability to enchant with his voice alone. Yet… Is there anything wrong with that? After all, his greatest flaw turned into what made him a prodigy, as you always claimed.

The heat does not hold against the chilly air of the corridor, you think, the soles of your shoes clacking against the granite floor. The air vibrates outside, kept ablaze by merciless sun, the dreaded celestial body refusing to set even at night, its halo extending from one end of the horizon to the other – and even as your eyebrows furrow, you cannot stop and stare through the tinted-glass windows for even a moment, a steady stream of humans behind your back pushing you forward. In this world of yours, rather secluded from the outside realm, it is another sort of movement that agitates the air, lively chatter lifting in clouds, further replenished by curious students.

The lecture theatre is a marvel in its own right, rows of wooden benches and bookrests refusing to fall apart despite all the centuries passed. You take your seat, in the very front row – and although you try to, you cannot help wondering who sat there before you. Have… Have they discovered anything? Gained some fame? You cannot tell for sure, that much is certain, yet… It would not be unthinkable, it would not be impossible in any way. The Seventh Century University have had quite a number of excellent graduates.

Your hands beginning to hurt, you forcibly unclench your fists, your gaze lifting up from the floor. Right in time, as the chatter stops abruptly, killed by the shriek of the walnut door. A man, no taller than average, steps inside – and something perhaps stings inside your chest, just a little bit. His robe is somewhat crooked, just the way you remembered it to be, the traditional pointy hat (much dreaded by any student, in all fairness) seemingly glaring at him from its place in his arms. He looks around, as if lost, mildly dishevelled blonde hair appearing not to have grown any more obedient the past year. Your throat tightens. He is already at the lectern. “Good evening,” he laughs awkwardly. “My name is Vincent van Gogh and I will be your Practical Astronomy professor.”

The room grows dark, obsidian seemingly crawling over all stone spaces and consuming them whole. Your jaw tightens. Was it truly just a year? To think, so much would have changed… For you both to start at the same time, and then…

It happens as if a sea of fireflies was released into the room, a single twitch of the brush in his hand colouring the nothingness anew. “As we all know, Tralangea is located within the Galatos triad, in the galaxy of Saana. Little is known about the outside universes, however, the most recent findings indicate the remaining splatter points present different variants of the reality known to us. As you should already known after going through Analytical Divination, it would align well within the still-standing model of inter-crossings. In this moment, I want you to imagine the infinite number of elements, circulating through space and interacting with one another. I will give you a second.” The light dies down again, the previously invoked golden specks splashing against the ground. “How does it look?”

No one dares disrupt the silence. How can he ask? It is impossible to answer, of course – and you are very well aware of that. How to picture an infinity? Is it… A trick question, perhaps? You go over the possibilities in your thoughts. A void? The light? You do not know. Something completely abstract, the end of all times? For all you know, it may be just that, and your fellow students seem to agree, confused whispers beginning to hum behind your back. The hushed voices growl, a sea of flies united in mere human distrust. “Professor?” some brave soul asks. “Yes? Do you have an answer?” “I… I think this is impossible.” “Oh? Why so? I might have given you too tough a question at the start,” Vincent laughs, seemingly mildly unease. “It is infinity, professor.” The room quiets down, the concern of all having been spoken out loud. “It is impossible to picture infinity with a finite mind. It would fry it up!” A smack, a couple steps. “I see, you are not aware,” Vincent muses, something swishing in the air. “Your life already is an infinity, in this very moment.”

The room begins to glow, the brush in Vincent’s hand seemingly coming to life with a mind of its own, streaks of navy blue and petrol painting below the dome, swirling and tying with shades of orange, lined with golden dust. “We do not need perfection. We need a model,” he explains softly, almost tenderly, his gaze focused.

Vincent’s finger twitches – and green grows between the rows of students, translucent, reaching up to the very ceiling. His wrist twists the brush by what could be an error margin, the swing of his arm summons purples, invites them alongside violets, to rest between the stars – and you watch very carefully, although you know you should observe his work, not him, that you should listen to his words, not the thumping filling your head… Yet how could you, if he has you charmed, if you cannot turn your eyes away? Vincent nearly dances, his cheeks growing redder from exercise, the canvas he chose being much greater than the body he inhabits. To paint it must be tiresome, you reckon, although your concerns vanish, the spark in his eyes causing something inside of you to sting. Clearly, he is not the same boy you used to know, not the one sentenced to the fate of failure due to his inability to enchant with his voice alone. Yet… Is there anything wrong with that? After all, his greatest flaw turned into what made him a prodigy, as you always claimed. You were right. You were right in not telling him not to…

Vincent lifts his arm over his head, a halo emerging above him. His lips move, a barely audible charm seeping out of his lungs and pulling his creation into a newly created sphere. The room lights up again, granite having conquered the walls. You blink fast. Is it over already? “We have a little more time, so allow me to repeat myself. It is not about creating perfection, but much rather… An impression,” Vincent laughs, perhaps a little shy of what they have just witnessed. “The universes are infinite and so are their interpretations. With our current state of understanding, we cannot provide an accurate depiction. However, different stances on them can be beneficial in certain contexts. Do you know what my model could be used for?” “Map of the stars!” somebody shouts in the back. “Exactly,” he agrees, nodding happily, his lips curled into a smile. “It is what I focused on. By the end of the year, I want you to be able to process an infinite amount of information and take only a fraction of this information. Starting next week, we will be deconstructing our universe. Any questions?” Silence. “You’re free then, thank you.”

The seats around you empty at a gradual pace, some pooling around the lectern (it appears the shyness is quite infectious, you note) while others speed out of the hall, seemingly terrified of classes which are yet to come. You, however, you stay still, as if unable to move, although there is nothing holding you back. Is it you? Is it a mean spell somebody has cast? You do not know, although it seems it is not your day for knowing anything, Vincent, the very Vincent you knew so well, emerging right before you, from who knows where. He graces you with the brightest smile you have seen in a year. “Hello. I didn’t know you were taking my class,” he says, a trace of laughter in his voice. “I saw you listed as the professor and could not believe it, so of course, I had to see it for myself,” you reply, shaking your head, perhaps mildly amused. “Congrats! That internship must have been so hard, you skipped so many years! I hope they didn’t torture knowledge into you there, professor Van Go –” you stop before you finish the word, Vincent scratching his head, his eyes drifting way from you. “Vincent?” “Well, emm… I didn’t skip any years,” he laughs. “It is just those models. The rest, well…” “You still need to pass them?” “Please, tell me you have not chosen my subject over Astral Projection this year,” he forces out of himself – although you barely hear it, laughter shaking your arms violently. “I haven’t. How does this even work?” “I don’t know. I don’t think they know either.” “Oh, Vincent. Well, professor van Gogh, get ready for failing Astral Projection, Miss Szajna took over it this semester and I do not see anything painting in bright colours, unlike your models.”

You get up, the both of you walking to well, the next class. How does it all work? You have no clue. However, it does not matter in the slightest, a weight having been lifted off your heart. You can still tell him those three words. You have not lost your chance.

Tag List: @cheese-ception​​​​, @kisara-16​​, @nad-zeta​, @rikumorimachisgirl​ @bestbryn​​ If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

[harrypotterbrainworms]

Twin Size Mattress

Summary: Sirius runs away after home troubles, a request for a Sirius x reader inspired by Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms. Very angsty, has a comfort ending.

Pairing: Sirius x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (H/C) - hair colour, (L/N) - last name

Word Count: 2380

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, depressive/ptsd symptoms, one gay slur.

They heard a soft knock at the door around 9pm that evening, the rain pouring outside. The thunder striking every other minute at this point. 

“I wonder who that is in this weather” James said, throwing himself up from the sofa and going to get the door. 

The other boy sitting across him set his book down and leaned forward to get a good look at the front door. The door opening to reveal a soaking wet Sirius, the rain hiding the tears streaming down his face. 

“Shit, Padfoot. Get in quickly” James said completely shocked, he ran upstairs to grab a towel and dry clothes. Sirius didn’t look (Y/N) in the eyes when he rushed to his side, only hiding his face and waiting for James to speed him to the bathroom. 

That was a week ago, the three boys were now waiting on the platform. The train pulled in as they waited for Remus and Peter. Sirius had refused to speak to anyone that week, only coming out of James’ room to eat and shower. 

(Y/N) only stared at him, the warm face he knew only a few months ago now cold and distant. The long hair that framed his face cut short. He had barely seen Sirius in this state in the 5 years they knew each other. James was the only person who knew what he went through, (Y/N) wished he trusted him as much as he trusted James. 

When the last two marauders joined they immediately knew the situation, the whole group now treating Sirius with the utmost care in the world. Soft smiles and hugs shared all round as they entered the train together. 

The train ride was mostly quiet, these were the few silent moments they shared in awkwardness. There was almost never a dull shared between them, the five always ready to drown their own traumas in many shots of fire whiskey or pulling pranks. 

“The train is going to stop soon, we better change” Sirius who finally broke the silence in the compartment pointing outside. Hogwarts was coming into view slowly, the tense group quickly changing as they went back into the silence. 

The day went as usual, the large hall filled with students as the new bunch of first years got sorted. The table of Gryffindors in shock as they watched the class clowns eat without much conversation or noise.

 They had never seen the marauders in such seemingly low spirits as they were all guided back to the common room. (Y/N) noticed that Sirius seemed a little happier to be back in his real home, becoming more chatty as they entered their dorm. 

“Weather’s cheering up” He said, as much as weather was a conversation they basically never had, the other four boys seemed happier to see Sirius’s silence was coming to a slow end. 

They all prepared to bed rather quickly, the group being a little drowsy from the long train and big meal. They had almost never had an unanimous bed time, someone was always awake doing something. Whether that was annoying one another or reading. 

“Goodnight, lads.” (Y/N) said, receiving a couple of groans and a few good nights in response. That’s when it started, no more than about an hour later there were four very confused and worried boys jolting awake as they heard Sirius crying and screaming in his sleep. 

James immediately jumped out his bed, going to his friend’s side. Gently stroking his head, trying to calm him down. 

“It’s okay, shh. Don’t worry, we’re all here” James said quietly, wrapping the discarded duvet back over Sirius. He seemed to calm down and stop thrashing about, the other three were a little bit in shock. Sirius had always suffered from nightmares, but they had never seen it this bad. 

With Sirius sleeping soundly again they went back to bed, but not even a few hours later Sirius was crying again, screaming and begging for someone to help him. To avoid no one getting sleep, each one of them took a turn to guide Sirius back to sleep. 

“It’s okay, Padfoot. I’m right here with you” (Y/N) cooed softly at his friend, running his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t wanna go back, I wanna be safe here” Sirius suddenly said like a scared child, (Y/N)’s stomach churned at the thought of what happened. 

“You’re safe” He hushed Sirius, he seemed to stop hyperventilating so (Y/N) got up to leave. Sirius had different plans in his sleepy mind grabbing his friend’s hands. 

“Please don’t go.” He said, his voice quivering with every word. (Y/N) looked at him as he held tightly onto his hands, looking scared to let go. 

“I’m right here” (Y/N) said, holding his breath as his heart stopped. Sirius pulled him closer, hugging his arm like it was the last piece of earth. 

(Y/N) gave in and moved onto his bed as Sirius held his waist tightly. (Y/N) just looked down at him, stroking his hair gently as he listened to Sirius fall back asleep. The warmth in the duvet and the calm boy next to him slowly put (Y/N) to sleep as well. The last thing he saw was the soft morning light across the horizon as he drifted off.

The next morning was quiet as the two boys woke up together, Sirius was looking a lot happier again. Sometimes cracking a few jokes here and there, even suggested a prank idea. A day back in his rightful home was bringing his confidence back, the rest of them followed suit. Feeling happy that their beloved friend was looking a little better. That was until potions. 

“Finally get rid of that mop, I see” A certain blonde asshole snickered behind them. Sirius sunk down in his seat slowly, trying to pretend he didn’t hear anything. He was usually packed full of comebacks and insults, but it hit too close. 

“Maybe finally you can be accepted into-“ Lucius started on his usual spiel, today however it pissed (Y/N) off a lot more than ���usual”. He immediately swung around 180° to stare Malfoy right in the eyes. 

“Shut the fuck up, Lucius.” (Y/N) warned him, his voice was full of venom adding a glare that would’ve thrown daggers at the spoiled brat if it could. 

“And what are you going to do about it, mudblood?! I can’t help it if your little boyfriend looked like a fa-“ Lucius was cut off as his classmates gasped. Even his friends did, surprised that (Y/N) was capable of that. 

He had been cut off by an uppercut on the upside of his chin, a rather loud thump as he toppled backwards on his stool. 

“Serves you right.” (Y/N) mumbled under his breath as he moved back to his seat, huffing out in frustration as he put his hands gently on the desk. 

Of course he had gotten detention, but he didn’t regret it. Seeing Sirius, the funniest, bravest, most handsome boy he’s ever known be hurt by such an annoying prat really pissed him off. 

“You didn’t have to,'' Sirius said awkwardly as they left potions. He didn’t want (Y/N) going into detention for fighting his battles for him. 

“It’s alright, it’s boring stuff anyway. The bruise Malfoy is gonna have for the next week is more than worth it” He smiled softly at him as they all headed back to the common room. 

It had barely been 20 minutes before everyone at school heard that “Lucius was in a deadly battle in potions with (L/N) and almost lost an eye” as if he’d even had the chance to lose one. 

“Honestly that was amazing, wish I had the guts to punch that asshole in the face” James shrugged as they opened the porthole into the common room. (Y/N) quickly ran upstairs, shredding all his school supplies onto his bed and wishing the boys goodbye as he went to detention. 

“(L/N) you’re late” Professor Slughorn said looking at his watch as the (H/C) boy burst through the door in a sweat. 

“Sorry, Sir. The common room is a long walk from here” He huffed a little as he took off his robe, ready for whatever task was ahead. Slughorn nodded and looked around the classroom. 

“Not to worry, detention is simple today, just a spotless clean and you’re done” He said, looking at his watch again. Slughorn somewhat trusted the boy, as he was one of the top in his class. 

“Thanks, Professor. I’ll get right to it” (Y/N) nodded and went straight to work, trying his best to hurry. His professor bid a farewell as he left to get tea with some other teachers leaving (Y/N) to clean up. 

He walked diligently and fast as he scrubbed the floors, cauldrons and anything else that looked dirty. He worked top to bottom praying to Merlin he could finish before it got dark outside. 

He heard a small knock on the door as it opened, he immediately looked to see Remus standing there with a few books in hand and some notes. 

“Thought I’d make things a little more interesting for you, asked Slughorn if I could study here” He said, moving to one of the cleaned desks as he set up his study station. 

“Thanks, was getting a little too quiet in here” He said a little out of breath as he moved the clutter of bottles and jars that stood in the way of cleaning. It was nice to have the presence of someone else in the room with him, even if they just sat in silence. 

“You think Sirius is gonna be okay?” (Y/N) asked honestly, the subject leaving a small air of tension in the room, but someone had to ask.

“I don’t know.” He asked back honestly. (Y/N) suspected Remus hadn’t seen Sirius like this either.

The rest of the detention was spent quietly as before while the friends coexisted.

The group of lads sat together once again in the deafening silence of the common as other Gryfinndors made their way in and out for bed. With Remus and (Y/N) back inside again, they almost forgot how thick the air in the common room. 

Sirius looked as though he would crack his own neck, uncomfortably shifting in different positions not happy with a single one he chose. 

“I’m going for a smoke.” He quickly said, almost running out of through the porthole. The other boys were a little startled by the rush and looked at each other as to signal who would check on him. 

(Y/N) immediately got up and followed him outside, seeing him sitting crossed legged on the cold stone floor. He took a seat next to the tired boy who was struggling to light the cigarette in his fingers. 

“Here” (Y/N) said, taking the lighter from his hands, replacing it with a fresh one. 

“It’ll grow back.” He said suddenly, taking out a cigarette of his own. He reached to grab the lighter and to his shock Sirius flinched… hard. All he could think of was what happened during summer that cracked his friend. 

He sighs and looks over to him, being lit by the half moon in the sky. Sirius looked over to him for a second, thinking about how nice his friend looked in the moonlight. (Y/N) thought the same. He reaches a hand slowly to Sirius, resting it on his shoulder. Sirius stiffened up a bit, but relaxed after a few moments. Letting (Y/N) caught his thoughts for that time. 

“I don’t know if you trust me to know what’s happening, but… I don’t know what they did to you there. I just wanted you to know I’m glad you’re here.” He looks a little embarrassed by his words, no one in the group really tried to deal with their emotions. Hiding it behind layers and layers of pranks and even saying that made (Y/N) cringe a little. 

He expected Sirius to laugh at him or maybe even push him off Gryffindor tower for being so serious, but Sirius just looked at him and broke down uncontrollably sobbing into his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” He sobbed as (Y/N) scooped him into his arms, softly rubbing his back. 

“Woah, Woah. Calm down. Breath. Don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” (Y/N) said gently as Sirius abandoned his cigarette on the ground, clasping onto the boy in front of him as if he was the last thing keeping him tied to the Earth. 

They sat there together, hugging each other tightly as Sirius’s violent sobs became a shaky breath while he inhaled the scent of (Y/N). When he felt calm enough, he let go and sat with his hands in the other’s hands while their breathe became visible in the cold night air.

“Let’s get you back inside, come on” (Y/N) said, helping Sirius up with his hands. They left the darkness hand in hand into the common room once again.

“Hey-“ James said, but cut himself off as all the boys saw Sirius’s bloodshed puffy eyes and shaking frame. 

“Come on, Padfoot. To bed with you.” (Y/N) said softly, ignoring everyone as he led the now short haired boy into the dorm. 

He tucked Sirius into his bed and was about to leave when he felt his friend’s hand pull him back. 

“Will you sleep here again?” Sirius asked quietly, looking a little embarrassed. (Y/N) nodded and got under the covers, Sirius moving toward him and hugging his frame. 

For a while they just stayed like that in silence and awake just bathing in each other’s warmth and comfort. (Y/N) let out a yawn and stretched his arms over the boy who was cuddling him. 

“Sweet dreams, Padfoot.” He said while kissing the also very sleepy boy on the forehead receiving a soft kiss on his knuckles in return. 

Sirius drifted off to sleep feeling the warm embrace of his friend, having nice dreams of running far away together. Maybe to a small cottage Merlin knows where…