#finally got the shipping notice for the mattress though

[on-my-way-to-the-woods]

Did F buy houseplants before we got any kind of furniture? Yes

Did I expect anything less of her? No

[dincrypt]

Hush

Summary: Din needs sleep, but it’ll take a bit of coaxing.

Content: Just sleepy fluff

He was rolling his shoulders again.

It was the closest thing to a tell Din possessed, and had taken you almost a year with him to decipher. He never yawned. Not that you had seen, anyway. Never complained. But the moment you noticed him straightening his posture, rolling his shoulders back as though it were nothing more than a stretch, you knew Din was exhausted.

All it took was a rut. Normally, he was wise enough to recognize when he needed sleep, and responsible enough to take it. He’d shed his armor, wrap himself around you in the warmth of your shared bunk, and soon be letting out the soft snores that lulled your own eyes into slumber.

Occasionally though, sleep was denied to him for one reason or another. An uncooperative quarry. A necessary but especially long haul through sub light. It didn’t matter what it was, the moment Din was denied his regular dose of rest, suddenly sleep was jettisoned off his priority list, and he was impossible.

Now, his tell was slipping through the cracks, thinly disguised amongst smaller unnecessary movements as he fiddled among the ship, tinkering with circuits that were in perfect working order. You looked up from Grogu’s bed, having finally coaxed him to sleep. Your eye roll went unnoticed by Din.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” You suggested softly.

‘Huh?” He mumbled without looking up from a very important lighting rig, imperative to the function of exactly six green and red buttons.

“I said you need some rest,” you tried again, crossing the hull to touch his pauldron softly. “Come lay down.”

“Oh. That’s alright, I’m not tired.”

You nearly let a laugh slip. You managed to turn it into a sigh, knowing the former would only aggravate him. “Well I’m tired. And you know I sleep better when you’re with me. Won’t you come lay with me, just for a bit?”

That, apparently, was more palatable. His frame drooped and you knew you had him. “Well…I suppose if it’ll help you…”

“It will. Absolutely.”

“Ok then…”

You led him away from the oh-so-vital light circuits and helped him remove his armor. This had always been one of your favorite things about your husband, getting to see his warrior exterior stripped away, leaving you with the soft man you knew and loved underneath. He was fully capable of doing it himself, of course. He had for years. But you loved to be the one to slip it off piece by piece, feeling his muscles relax beneath your touch. He knew this, so he let you.

You left his helmet for last, knowing he preferred to remove it himself. Once the last piece of metal was off his body, you brought him to bed.

Despite his earlier argument, he practically melted into the mattress. Your heart swelled as Din crawled over to you and laid his head on your chest without hesitation. His arm draped over your stomach as one of your hands stroked his back, the other climbing into his hair.

You had marveled at it a million times, and you would no doubt do so a million more, because you would never quite get over the fact that a battle hardened Mandalorian, who everyone saw as a merciless killer, trusted and loved you enough to relax in your arms and go to sleep. You were one of only two beings in the universe who could touch him without consequence.

He began to mumble. Another thing he did when exhaustion got the best of him.

“I love you so much…”

“I know. I love you too. Go to sleep.” You continued to run your fingers through his hair, soft and thick.

“You’re so warm.”

“So are you.”

“And so sweet.”

You chuckled, drawing your hand down to stroke his cheek with two gentle fingers. “Go to sleep my love.”

“M’trying…”

“No you’re not, you’re talking.”

“Mm…”

He slowly fell into silence, his breath deepening. You listened for the onset of snores. Before they came, he spoke again,

“You didn’t kiss me.”

You held a sigh. “What?”

“Kiss me…you didn’t…you always kiss me goodnight…”

You stroked his hair again, fingers digging softly in his scalp. “You’re too tired love, just sleep.”

“Can’t…” his voice was muffled in your chest, “Can’t until you kiss me…”

Your eyes rolled with a gentle smile. “Then come up here and get it I suppose.”

He raised his head, but his eyes stayed closed. He didn’t lean up, apparently lacking the energy. Instead he simply lulled his head to the side and presented his pursed lips. You grinned and craned your neck down to give him a soft peck on the mouth.

Instead of laying back down, he whined. “Another?”

“No,” you breathed through a laugh. “Go to sleep.”

��Mmmmm,” he complained, brow furrowing over still-closed eyes. “Please?”

“Huuuh…Maker…”

You humored him, lingering a little longer in hopes of satisfying him this time. It either worked or he lost the energy to hold his head up, because his face planted back into your chest. Your heart warmed with a mixture of love and mirth as you compared this sleepy eyed boy, begging for kisses, to the blood stained hunter who had shot down a quarry mere hours ago. Sometimes it felt like you were married to two different people.

You continued to work your fingers down his back with smooth, rhythmic strokes, humming softly. Your other hand ran down his hair to the nape of his neck, playing with the soft locks there. Din’s breathing gradually deepened, then slowed. But you knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

“Love you…” he murmured, “So much, darling…love you…love you…”

You tilted your head down to kiss his hair. “Sssh, I love you too. Sleep.”

“So warm…so soft…love you…”

The last syllable faded and you felt his mumbling lips finally come to a stop. Not a moment later, his soft and shallow snores graced your ears. You held him a little tighter, echoing his words of adoration as sleep finally overtook you.

[clone-anon]

Hey there! As silly as it sounds, the release of TBB season 3 has reopened some old wounds caused by season 2 and left me in a bit of an odd place emotionally. I was one of those that actually went through the five stages of grief after that finale and with the uncertainty of Tech's fate hanging in the air, well, all of that is starting to bubble to the surface again. Tech is one of my "comfort clones", plus he reminds me a lot of my husband, so I'm a bit attached to him emotionally. Anyway, I'm rambling. What I'm asking for is some warm, snuggly comfort Tech (with a dash of snuggly comfort Echo) to help ease the pain and let me know everything's gonna be okay. :')

This isn't silly at all, Anon. Everyone who loves Tech has had to deal with this as best they can and we're all waiting with bated breath to see what season 3 has in store. Hopefully this will offer a dash of comfort. I included platonic Echo cuddles and romantic Tech cuddles.

Word Count: 726

You woke from a dream with a shudder. Your eyes adjusted to the lack of light as quickly as you could. You were on the Marauder and it was the middle of the night on some mid-rim planet. Tech, Echo, and you were off on a supply run and decided to hunker down for the night before venturing into the nearest town in the morning. You looked around. Tech was lightly snoring in his bunk and you breathed a sigh of relief. He was there. After so many months without him, he was back. You longed to climb into bed with him, but knew it took so much effort for him to fall asleep that you didn't want to disturb him. Instead, you ventured into the cockpit to find Gonky and Echo passing the time watching the stars as Echo finished up a communication with Rex. Always something to do.

"Hey," Echo said as you walked toward the copilot's seat.

"Hey," you replied.

"Can't sleep again?"

You nodded and rubbed your face. Echo sighed and tried to smile. He got up and went to one of the storage spaces. There was a mattress stored in there. Now that Omega was bigger and you often joined them, it helped to have a mattress they could throw on the floor. Echo laid it out, threw a blanket over it and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said.

"Shouldn't you be keeping watch?"

"We're fine here. Security system is working and I haven't noticed anything in hours."

You laid down next to him and rested your head against his chest. Echo rested his cheek on the top of your head and hummed a little. You had both become accustom to holding each other during those difficult times when you both missed those you'd lost. He liked the company and felt warmer next to someone.

After some time, Echo spoke up. "You could wake him, you know."

"He needs his rest," you replied.

Just then, familiar footsteps approached your position laying in the middle of the ship.

"I have adequately rested," Tech said.

"Did we wake you?" you asked.

"Not at all. It's my watch," Tech answered.

"Not much to watch," Echo said. "Your new security system keeps an eye on everything."

"As it should," Tech replied with a satisfied smile.

Echo gave you a quick squeeze before he got up. He headed to his own space where it was a bit darker and easier to rest his eyes. You weren't about to be alone though. Tech peered through the windows, gave Gonky a friendly pat, and then asked to join you on the mattress. You smiled as he got comfortable next to you. Of course he was welcome. There wasn't any question. You'd practically clung to each other since his return. You studied the scars on his face and the way his gait had changed after his fall. You didn't want to think about it. You just wanted him close.

As if reading your mind, he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. He kissed your forehead and simply said, "I'm here."

You nodded as you buried your face in neck and felt him kissed the crown of your head. You fought back tears and he rubbed your back. You gave him a squeeze as he gently laid one ankle over yours, looking for more contact. You looked up at him to find misty eyes and a smile.

"Still can't believe you're back," you said.

"Believe it," he said. "How can I make it up to you?"

"Tech, you don't have to. I know you missed me too and went through so much trying to get back. Just don't go anywhere without me again."

"I promise," he said. "For now though, you need your rest. You had your watch and now it's my turn."

You leaned in and kissed him with all you had. He still took your breath away. You got comfortable cuddled up against him. You listened to his heartbeat and your breathing slowed. You fell asleep quickly in the comfort of his presence. Tech got out his data pad to pass the time and check for any alerts that danger was near the Marauder. He smiled as he felt you enter a deeper stage of sleep, his other hand gently caressing you.

[snoringkitty1]

Recharge

This is very different, writing on my phone :,>

Tw: Not proofread, just fluff :>

૮︵⭒‿᧔☪︎᧓‿⋆︵౨

You and Dan heng had spent all day running around on the Xianzhou ship. He didn't particularly like being on the ship without your company since, well, your soft gaze was one much better than the glares other vidyadhara gave him.

"The snacks here are really odd.." you stated, reading the lable on a drink you got from a vending machine. Dan heng was stood slightly off to the side, his arms crossed. "A pineapple and cream drink doesn't sound odd to me." He hummed and leaned over to read the lable.

"..I guess so." You shrugged and opened it up when you were about to try a sip. Someone harshed bumped into Dan heng, causing him to nearly fall over onto you.

You gasped, the drink getting spilled all over your face and shirt. Dan's eyes widened before he scowled and looked back at the man who'd practically shoved him on purpose, though the made seemed too proud and unbothered to be scared.

He didn't have time nor the social battery to deal with that. Instead, he gently grabbed your arm while you were still busy pouting about missing out on your drink and simultaneously ruining your afternoon.

"Here..hold still." You lowered your arms, so they rested idle at your sides, looking at your shirt with a frown. He snapped his finger, and suddenly, all the juice on your shirt began to..leave?

It's like the liquids were being sucked out, little bubbles of juice floating in front of you. The little glow in Dan heng's eyes told you it was his powers working the magic. It was pretty fantastical to watch.

Finally, all the little bubbles dissipated as if they didn't exist to begin with. "There..i'll buy you another.." he sighed and patted your head. You frowned and moved his hand down to hold your face.

"But..it wasn't even your fault! I can buy myself another, it's alright." You smiled and kissed his palm. He still seemed a little upset that you had been dragged into the prejudice involving his former self.

But seeing you happy raised his mood, despite the problems that occurred not even ten minutes ago.

No matter who interfered, you would not let anyone ruin this date. Even if his mood was already ruined.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Upon your return to the express, Dan heng had his arms crossed and his eyes closed as the two of you listened to March about how her date with Stelle went. His social battery was definitely going on empty, so as much as you liked listening to March, you wanted to help him feel better.

You snuck away from the lounge and went into the room you both shared. You toom the pillows and blankets from your mattress and made a big nest of pillows and blankets on his mattress. Cuddling would certainly lift his mood, right?

As you were putting the finishing touches on the pillow pile, the door opened with Dan heng in the way. His eyes widened a bit upon seeing the mess that was the pillow nest. "What is this?" He inquired as he closed the door and walked further into the room.

"A pillow nest!" You grinned and walked over to him, "i noticed how tired you looked after our date, and i didn't think you'd last long listening to March. So i snuck in here to make a cozy pillow nest." You smiled.

Seeing your smile made him smile, he sighed and leaned close to kiss your forehead. "What would i do without you.." he hummed and held your face before playfully pinching your cheek.

You smiled proudly and grabbed his hands, and pulled him over to the pillow nest. "C'mon, snuggles will help you recharge, right?" You smiled and let go of his hands and flopped onto the many blankets and pillows.

He followed suit and crawled in beside you, "always.." he hummed, "my favorite way to recharge.. is with you.." he mumbled and smiled as you pulled him close. "I'm honored.." you whispered, brushing your hand through his hair and smiling to yourself.

The silence that filled the room was what Dan heng would usually recharge in before he met you. But now, he craves your presence more than anything whenever he's tired of being around people.

The sound of your heartbeat and breathing were enough to put him right to sleep.. His eyes closed, and he did just that. He fell asleep in your arms, and tou were happy to have put him at ease.

He was just Dan heng here. He didn't need to worry about anything else. His favorite place to be, was right in your arms.

⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ꔫ

Thanks for reading.

[raccoonfallsharder]

heartspur.⋆☁︎ :･꧂

a scene from cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl portrait | the runabout | rocket fanart masterlist let me love your OCs masterlist | main masterlist

only a couple chapters until rocket gets a whole new ship and i finally have this scene from chapter thirteen done. let it be known i have almost every gun in mcu-rocket's arsenal in here except like, katie and vicki. (excerpt + feather-free version below too!). now time to get back to the OC doodle queue!

He wakes up with claws already hooked, ready to rend — ribs tight, lungs heaving — teeth bared and eyes wide, darting, scraping over every shadow and bright hot light — he looks for cinders, for sparks, nostrils flared and searching for any shred of smoke — for fur, for blood, for the burnt smell of the laser pistol— “—only you and me. I’m here — it’s just me.” The voice is a caress. “Herb— Sire is far away, and so are the Recorders. It’s only you and me.” He rakes in another scorched lungful of air, and the burnt scent in his nose suddenly seems dampened, softened by clear water and dewdrops and lilies. Pearl. “Did I scratch you?” he pants. “Did I hurt you?” Her eyes are big and careful on him, shifting from his own stare toward something just a little below his left ear. Unassuming, nonthreatening. “Not at all,” she soothes, and her voice is the softest little brush along his senses. “I’m fine.” “I can’t—” he seethes, peering around the bunk. It’s still swaying recklessly on the straps that suspend it from the ceiling, and the pillow is hemorrhaging feathers: a soft spill of downy guts, scattered across the mattress between them like a silk sacrifice. He reaches out — the fabric that had been underneath her head is in slivers. “I shouldn’t frickin’—“ —be here.

Her thumbs dip below his collar and he freezes — suddenly terrified of her feeling his scars and metal bits, even though he knows she’d caught glances of them on the Arete; suddenly terrified she’ll dig her digits into his swollen, sore tissue and hurt him. But she pauses when she feels him stiffen — so quickly that it almost feels like she noticed his fear before it even rose to the surface. Then the delicate touch shifts safely back outside his shirt, coasting tenderly over his clothed shoulders and then back to his neck. His muscles stay strung-tight — cinched up under the memory of what he’d done the last time he’d had his hands on her throat — but her thumbs just stroke lingeringly along either side of his spine, then up to the base of his skull. She dips them into the fur there, below the surface layers and into his plush undercoat, rolling the pads of her thumbs carefully over the bone. It’s like she’s found a dial he hadn’t known was there. His heart and lungs are still pummeling his bones, too much momentum to slow them down — but his shoulders go molten, becoming flux under her ministrations, and his head tilts forward, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Her fingertips float to the sides of his face — light as Foresterian moonmoths brushing against his whiskers and fur — while her thumbs continue to stroke up from the nape of his neck to the crown of his skull. They rove against his head in petal-like ovals, and then slide back down again. Circs and circs before, trapped on HalfWorld, the muscles in Rocket’s neck and shoulders had been manipulated into new shapes: shortened, lengthened, split; twisted into tendons. They force himself to hold his shoulders broad and his head upright. He’s pretty sure there’s no name for any of the stuff he’s got going on in his body. But it’s here — in these strange manmade muscles between his neck and his shoulders — that pearl carefully kneads her thumbs. Her fingertips are still stretched upward, cradling his jaw like he’s— Like he’s something precious. Fragile. His breath hitches on a strangled sound. His ribs spasm upward, eyes suddenly wet and burning. “Drink,” she murmurs, gliding her thumbs deep into whatever agonized mess has been made of his trapezii. He grips the straw with his teeth, and takes a long pull of the water. It floods his mouth, cool and sweet and clear, and his eyes flicker closed — just for a second. The tears on his lower lids spill over and river into his fur. (from cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ chapter thirteen. heartspur.)

pearl portrait | the runabout | rocket fanart masterlist let me love your OCs masterlist | main masterlist

[glorious-spoon]

he speaks the languages of love [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie | 1/1]

he speaks the languages of love

4k words | Explicit established relationship | phone sex

-

Eddie has been in Texas for nearly two weeks, and Buck has been extremely patient about it, in his opinion. True, it's possible that none of his coworkers would agree with that assessment, but in his defense, he's been existing in a state of sexual frustration not seen since Eddie shoved him against a wall and stuck his tongue down his throat after that close call with the cruise ship back in April.

"Good to know where I rate," Eddie says when Buck tells him this on their phone call the night before he's supposed to come home. He's just come off a twenty-four, so Chris is over at Pepa's and he's back at the loft. The lonely, empty loft.

"I mean it's not just that," Buck protests. "I do actually miss you."

Eddie snorts. "Is that why you bit Ravi's head off earlier today when he was talking about his date staying over?"

"You heard about that, huh?"

"No shit," Eddie says, laughing. "You didn't notice that we work with the biggest gossips on the West Coast?"

"Okay, well, first of all, I apologized for that—"

"Uh huh."

"And also, Hen blows things out of proportion."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like Hen."

"Okay, fine," Buck admits. "I've been kind of a dick. She threatened to drown me in a washing machine earlier, and honestly, I probably deserved it."

"A washing machine?"

"This guy got stuck—it was a whole thing." He flops back on the bed, staring up at his empty ceiling in his empty loft. "Feels weird being at work without you there."

"I'll be back for our next shift."

"Yeah, I know," Buck sighs. "So, I mean. It's not just sexual frustration, for the record."

"Sure. I just think maybe it's a good thing Chris will be at school so he doesn't have to see you jump me the minute I get back."

"Well, when you put it like that," Buck admits. Eddie laughs, and he adds, "Okay, but you gotta understand, this is like—six months of finally actually getting to put my hands on you, and then I have to go cold turkey for two weeks? It's hard."

"In every sense of the word, I guess," Eddie says, because he's never met a dumb joke he didn't love. Buck groans, laughing.

"You're such an asshole."

"Uh huh. So you're saying you don't want to fuck me into the mattress when I get back?"

"Okay, I didn't say that."

"That's what I thought."

"I do want to, for the record. I've always wanted to. From, like, day one."

Eddie laughs warmly in his ear. "You're so full of it."

"Am not."

"You hated my guts the first day we met."

"Yeah," Buck admits. He yawns, then smears a hand over his mouth. It's late. They should probably both get some sleep. It's just that he really never wants to stop talking to Eddie, especially now that he's two thousand miles away instead of in Buck's bed, where he belongs. "I kinda did. You were infuriatingly perfect."

A snort. "Right."

"Still wanted to fuck you, though."

There's a couple of beats of silence. Then Eddie says, "Yeah?"

-

Continue reading on AO3

[idolatrybarbie]

lbs!marcus masterlist

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 1.9k | explicit - minor free zone!

summary: marcus loves you. you love him.

warnings: smut - oral sex (f receiving), sweetness, it's pretty straightforward. thee final installment of you and marcus in fairfax county, va.

You unstrap yourself from your shoes before you even get out of the car. Heels in hand, you pad across the still-frozen ground to the front door. It’s already unlocked, letting you twist the knob and open the door easily. The low buzz of a power drill whines from the shadowy living room, lamps casting a white-yellow glow down the hall to make up for the lack of an overhead fixture.

You left Marcus this morning with a couple pieces of unbuilt Ikea furniture. He decided that a Wednesday in mid-January was the perfect time to use a vacation day and build it all for you. Clearly, he’s still at it. You leave the skyscraper stilettos on the floor beside the coat rack, walking down the hall as a smile paints itself across your face. He is still in his Houston Astros shirt, grey sweatpants shifting as Marcus moves from sitting to kneeling over the small shelf he’s working on.

The floor creaks beneath you, alerting him to your presence.

“Hey babe,” he says, turning to look at you.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Almost done with this. I’ve got a few more screws, and she’ll be all done.”

You love that Marcus refers to things as if they were some grand sea ship, calling everything from the air fryer to this cheap hunk of plywood ‘she.’

“How was work?” Marcus asks.

“Fine. Same old.” Taking another step towards him, you wince. Marcus’ face morphs into a look of concern. “Those heels did a number on me, though.”

You haven’t worn much other than athletic footwear for the last nine months. Comfortable sneakers, supportive running shoes. High heels are the exact opposite of both those things. Not to mention, that specific pair is on the brink of falling apart. But they look so cute, you couldn’t help yourself.

Marcus stands, taking you into his arms. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me make you feel better,” he says.

“Marcus, you’ve been working all day,” you say.

“I sat on my ass for two hours watching that political fixer show of yours, which is why I’m not done yet,” Marcus tells you, shaking his head. “I’m fine. You’re not.”

“I’m fine, too.” Yet when you step back, a hiss slithers past your lips.

“You’re not,” he says again. “It’s no trouble. I want to.”

He’s already in your head, reading all the thoughts that pass through. You don’t want to hassle him. It’s no big deal. So on and so forth. He gives you a heart-melting stare, eyes round with softness.

You say, “Okay, yeah,” and he’s practically scooping you into his arms.

Marcus leads you up the stairs to your room with instructions to get on the bed. Laying flat on the mattress takes the pressure off your spine, your body flooding with relief. Marcus gets on his knees, kneeling at the end. He takes one of your feet into his hands, resting it in his lap before he starts to rub at the skin.

He gently works his fingers over your foot, thumb digging into your arch. You sigh at his touch, relaxing further into the pillows. Marcus soothes the ache in your first metatarsal with easy pressure. Standing at an incline for almost ten hours has done a number on your joints, the pain melting away as he continues his massage. You roll your ankle when he moves onto the next foot.

Opening your eyes, you’re quick to notice how Marcus stares at you. Your legs, specifically, thighs wrapped in sheer brown nylon. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, enraptured, ready to tear you open.

“Like what you see, handsome?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Marcus hums, eyes back on your face in an instant.

“You’re staring at my thigh highs.”

“A man can’t appreciate his girl’s excellent taste in fashion?” he asks.

You remove your foot from his grasp, pressing your toes into the center of his chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Marcus Pike has a bit of a stocking fetish.”

At your words, Marcus’ ears grow pink. His whole face is flushed, eyes crinkling as he smiles awkwardly. Realization dawns on you as he reaches to scratch the back of his neck, the conversation effectively dying. He does. You’ve caught him in a net of terrible awkwardness, laying here at an impasse.

“Marcus…”

“I know it’s weird,” he says.

“What? No,” you say. Sitting up, you shake your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You’re alright.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” you assure him.

“Seriously?” Marcus asks.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Both kneeling before each other, you take his hand and drag it to the side of your leg. The synthetic fabric slips under his fingers. Feeling the texture of the nylon and your soft skin just beneath it stirs something in him. Pressing closer, you feel him hard against your hip.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him deep and slow. His hands take their place at either side of you, sliding from the stockings up beneath your skirt. Marcus squeezes your ass, palming at you for a moment. Then he slips a finger beneath your underwear, pulling the elastic away from your body only to have it snap in place again.

“What do you want?” you ask, lips right by his ear.

“You,” he whispers. Hands at your waist now, he hugs you impossibly closer. Marcus ruts his hips into yours, breathing heavy. “Fuck…please.”

“If you want me, you have me,” you say.

Marcus pushes you back onto the bed with a little force, following you down. He meets you at the mouth, kissing you before trailing off to your cheek. He presses his lips against your jaw, down to your neck and collarbone. Through the material of your top, he kisses at your chest. Marcus bypasses your torso to mouth at the place where the bottom hem of your shirt and the cotton waistline of your skirt meet. He pulls your shirt up where it’s tucked against your stomach, kissing your belly. You giggle when he licks at the skin, tongue warm.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your new job?” he mumbles into your stomach.

“Hmmm. A little bit,” you say. Marcus nips at the skin over your ribs, making his way up your chest. You gasp quietly, continuing, “Said something about…you like seeing me happy at work.”

“Only part of it,” he says. Marcus has your shirt pushed up to your throat, bra on display for him. He slides a hand beneath you to unclasp the back. It releases from your body easily, letting him push it up and away from your breasts. You’re sure you look ridiculous swamped with clothes at the neck, but Marcus doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s mesmerized with the pattern of your skin.

“What’s the other part, then?” you ask, trying to keep a straight face as he gently pinches at one of your nipples.

“You wear all these cute little outfits…the skirts, the stockings, the heels.” Leaning over, Marcus takes that nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly.

“You like the clothes?”

“You look so good. I can’t help myself. Just wanna—” He interrupts himself, resting his face in the valley between your breasts. Marcus takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you. “Just wanna bend you over the kitchen counter when I see you get home, take you right then and there.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Rubbing your thighs together does little to relieve the growing ache between them. Picturing your cheek laying against the cool countertop as Marcus hikes up your skirt at a moment’s notice is dangerous. “We should try it out sometime.”

Marcus pauses for a split second, brain registering what you’ve said.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says.

His fingers work to find the clasp of your skirt, unlatching it. Marcus pulls down the zipper at the side of your hip, bringing your underwear down with the other fabric. He follows the line of your leg with his nose as the bottoms slide off your body, getting all the way off the bed and onto the floor with your discarded clothes.

You sit up, both to watch him and to rid yourself of your shirt and bra. Fully undressed now, you note the contrast between his clothed body and yours, starkly nude. Heat creeps through your tummy, wetness reaching the inside of your thighs. You feel like a gift freshly unwrapped; a gourmet cake too good to eat as he regards you with that look. Marcus stares up almost reverently. This man would worship at your altar. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

He leaves your stockings on, nosing against your tibia. Light licks against the skin of your ankle make you shiver. Marcus kisses his way up your left leg, nuzzling the crook of your knee. He rests his chin against your kneecap, eyes focused as he watches you watch him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Today, or in general?”

“Every day,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “All day, all of the time.”

His hands inch closer to the middle of your body, fingers feather-light across the swell of skin. Marcus rejoins you on the bed, kisses getting firmer as he reaches level with your cunt. He leaves another kiss to your pelvis, readjusting to drag his tongue against your cunt.

You rub at his shoulders absently, one hand moving sidelong up his neck before fingers twine in his hair. You gasp when he nips at you, catching you off guard with a hint of teeth. You pull at his dark brown strands; Marcus groans against at the feeling. He pushes you further with the slip of a finger inside, gentle but insistent alongside his laps at your clit.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you twisting in bed, gasps stuttering as you tighten your thighs around the sides of his head. He brings you to the very edge before pulling back. Marcus noses at the crease of your thigh, finger smearing against the outer part of your hip as he holds you.

“I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better,” you sigh.

“What if I just like to take my time?” Marcus asks.

“Then I’d have to tell you to hurry it up.”

It’s all in fun. Any sense of pain from earlier has disappeared, Marcus’ soft touch drawing it from you easily. Still, your words spur him on. His finger slips back inside you, middle finger joining Marcus’ index. That little bit more, the faster pace he sets along with the slide of his tongue has you at the edge again in minutes.

He stops when you push him away, thighs twitching, breath ragged. In the time you’ve been with Marcus, you have learned that this is his favourite part. Still hard in his sweatpants, sure, but sated and satisfied. He mouths gently at the slope of your stomach, your hand at the nape of his neck.

Marcus sticks his tongue in your belly button, making you groan.

“You’re so weird,” you say.

“You weren’t complaining like, three minutes ago.”

“Different. You know it’s different.”

“Hmmm,” Marcus hums. He keeps his head halfway between your gut and your lap, breathing slow. “I love you.”

“I know.” He flicks you, hip smarting with the scratch. “I love you too.”

“That’s good.”

He’s right. It is.

[sunwarmed-ash]

Roy/Jamie fic idea: just Roy being secretly obsessed with Jamie’s nipples ever since he flashed them at Roy at the gala in S1. One day in S3 or beyond, Jamie’s being a little shit and Roy finally snaps, taking Jamie to bed and declaring that he’s gonna undo Jamie just by doing all manner of things to those nipples. Jamie couldn’t be happier.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! i love all the royjamie prompts I got, so I combined all three into one response!

Prompts:

Coach kink-Jamie calls Roy coach at practice to rial him up, a sequel to 4 AM

Jamie gets his nipples pierced. Roy goes insane

Nipple obsession/nipple worship

Hope you enjoy it!! I certainly had fun writing it!!

Insatiable Tartt

Ships: Roy x Jamie Fandom: Ted Lasso Rating: Explicit Tags: Nipple piercing, nipple worship, public sex kinda, bottom Jamie, Roy/Jamie's ever developing relationship, The Infamous Boot Room, hand jobs, fic under the cut and on ao3, Jamie has a praise kink, and a coach kink, PWP

‘Coach this,’ ‘Coach that,’ ‘Yes Coach,’ ‘please coach’

Coach. Coach. Coach.

In the almost 20 years Roy has been in sports he has never given the word a sexy, second thought. But then Jamie fucking Tartt, his previous business and romantic archrival-turned friends-with-benefits had to go and sob the damn title while he was posted up on Roy’s cock. Begged him, his coach, to make him cum, again and again. And now, after one night together, it’s had an almost instant, pavlovian response with his dick. 

Goddamn you Jamie Fucking Tartt.

-A month later-

They've only hooked up two other times since the first time. The next time was in Amsterdam, after the little shit spent the entire evening teaching him how to ride a bike to honor his grandads memory and then took him to see a windmill because Roy had never seen one before, and then  to add cherries to an already perfect night, Jamie leaned over and kissed him, taking his breath away with a simple press of lips that he hasn't felt since Keeley. 

Jamie didn't kiss him for long, he actually misinterpreted Roy’s freezing as denial and started to retreat almost instantly. Roy was quick to remedy that. His hand was catching the back of Jamie’s head and pulling his lips right back down against Roy’s own, where they belonged. 

Jamie and he then hauled ass back to the hostel the team was staying at and Roy fucked Jamie into the mattress. At least until Roy’s knee started acting up. But then Jamie took over, riding Roy hard into the bed for another good half hour.  

-

The third time was after Roy’s ‘misguided though comical’ attempt at ‘teammate awareness’ with the whole dick tying thing. It wasn't all bad. Jamie had admitted that it actually turned him on. After he blamed Roy for the new pain kink he developed around his dick because of it. 

That night, Roy had spent an hour tying Jamie up with the remaining red rope, binding his legs and arms away from his front so Roy had unlimited access to his body. He even tied up his cock, like a nice little present for Roy to admire and praise. Before slapping it hard with his hand while Jamie sobbed and pled for more. 

“Like that, do you slut?”

“Yes Coach…” Jamie pants without a fuss. 

-

After that last time, Roy thought he had finally gotten a one-up on the man. But evidently, he had underestimated the little shit, again. Because when Roy walked into the locker room after practice and the team was getting changed, his eyes caught a shining glint off something and someone he did not expect. 

And he wasn't the only one who noticed. 

“Oi boyo, when’d you get those?” Colin asked Jamie, referring to the matching piercing bars through the man’s nipples that were currently making Roy’s mouth fucking water. 

Jamie smirked and tossed his shirt over his shoulder instead of putting it on, letting Colin get a nice long look. 

“Long time ago mate,” Jamie shrugged. “16? 17 maybe?” Roy hates that that fact means he could have had those bars in his mouth already but Jamie specially chose not to disclose having them until today. 

“Only wear em when I’m tryin’ get lucky, ya know.” 

Roy looks at Jamie just in time to realize he was pointing that intention directly at him and his burning arousal and fear of public displays of affections has him shouting a familiar threat in the full locker room. 

“TARTT, BOOT ROOM! NOW!”

-

“I didn’t even do nothing wrong this time!” Jamie whines the second the boot room door closes and Roy’s mouth is on his to silence the bitchy noise. 

“Take off your shirt,” He says when he breaks apart and Jamie smiles, all the way up to his ears.

“Oh, oh, yeah, okay,” and then his shirt’s off and Roy’s hands replace it, running over every inch of skin he can reach before settling on what he really wanted to see. The silver and blue barbells through each of Jamie’s dusky brown nipples. 

“It's a good thing these aren't new,” Roy says, and before Jamie can ask why, Roy’s mouth is latching over one, biting into the pec hard before soothing the bite with a suck and several pointed licks around Jamie’s nipple. 

Jamie’s painful shout morphed into a pleased whine with the attention to the piercing with his tongue and Roy was happy this was making Jamie as crazy as its making Roy. He's admittadbily been obsessed with Jamie’s nipples since that little tart decided he was too good for a shirt at the charity auction. 

“Roy, please,” Jamie whines, breaking Roy out of his thoughts and back to the current moment. 

“No,” Roy growls against Jamie’s skin, and it makes Jamie’s cock twitch against their bodies. “Address me right if you want something,” 

“Coach,” Jamie whimpers, quickly entering the matter phase of melted goo in Roy’s specially crafted hands.

“There's a good boy,” Roy praises, and Jamie melts even farther with a pitiful whine. “Shouldn’t surprise me you have these pierced. Actually a little cross you didn't tell me sooner.”

Jamie’s eyes open and bore into Roy’s. There’s too much there to attempt to process it all.  

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Suprise me? Why?”

Jamie flushed pink, now avoiding his eyes. 

“Don't know... Thought maybe you'd like them. Do you?”

Roy raised his eyebrow before grabbing Jamie's hand and holding it against his own cock. 

“Does this answer your question?”

Jamie hums and his eyes flutter and he nods. 

“Fuck me?”

Roy shakes his head. 

“Can’t here Sweetheart, as much as I want to. But I can keep this up, probably make you come apart without even touching your cock. Would you like that?”

Jamie’s whines don’t contain actual words. He just nods and reaches out for Roy, pulling him close so Roy can bite and lick across his chest any way he wants to.  

Roy does. He loves the way the metal feels against his tongue, how much it makes Jamie gasp and squirm when he just barely scrapes his teeth across the hardened flesh. Loves how loud he cries when Roy bites him so hard it’ll leave marks tomorrow. 

Jamie’s cries get pitchier when he sucks around Jamie’s nipple, licking the piercing balls on either side with his tongue, Jamie's hips thrust forward, bumping against Roy’s thigh and pulling another moan from the younger player's lips. 

“Coach, please,” Jamie begs and Roy moves up from the hickied and bruised chest to Jamie’s lips, biting roughly into his lower lip. 

Jamie whines and Roy chuckles, soothing his cries with another deep kiss.

“What do you want Jamie?”

“Make me cum, please, I’m close.”

“That all?”

“No,” Jamie huffed. 

Roy’s playful tug on Jamie’s piercing with his teeth had the younger man humping against Roy’s thigh now. 

“What else then?”

“Want you to fuck me, at home. You can tie me up again if you want.”

“You really liked that huh?”

“Your fault, you put the image in me head.”

“Something tells me you have the capacity to think devious thoughts up all on your own,” Roy laughed before slipping his hand down the front of Jamie’s track pants and gripping his hard cock tight. 

Jamie’s retort died on his tongue and his hand shot out for Roy, pulling his head forward and mouth back onto his chest. 

“Fuck, touch me, please,” Jamie pants and Roy goes to work. Jamie wasn’t kidding, he was getting close. Most of Roy’s hand was now slick with Jamie’s precum. 

The younger seemed to really like when he bit hickies into his chest Roy continued his pointed assault, squeezing the head of Jamie’s cock the next time his pumping hand reached it. 

“Fuck-” Jamie cries and it’s all over. His thighs tremble below Roy’s hand as his orgasm pulses through him. Roy’s hand gets slicker but he doesn't stop pumping. Not until Jamie’s pretty bite swollen lips beg him to. 

Roy pulls his hand out of Jamie’s pants and uses his clean hand to pull the man forward, kissing him back down after an intense, public, orgasm. 

Jamie hums under the kiss, slumping onto Roy’s chest and giving him all of Jamie’s body weight to support while he came back down to Earth. 

“Are you still hard?” Jamie asks after a couple of minutes, and Roy chuckles at the ridiculous question. 

“Course I am.”

“Still wanna tie me up? We can go, like right now. If you wanna.”

Roy chuckled before kissing Jamie again. 

“Insatiable tart.”

[tokkias]

struggle for attention ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: All Lucy wanted was a peaceful afternoon spent reading her new novel. Unfortunately for her, Natsu will not be denied. ao3

Lucy’s gaze was fixated on the pages of her book, trying to keep her focus on the words on the paper, rather than the complaints of her best friend who was currently sprawled across her bed. She had been trying to get through this novel for the past several hours, but Natsu was simply not giving up on having her attention, making it all the more difficult for her to make any progress.

Unfortunately for him, she was every bit as stubborn as he was, and she was not about to let out on her goal of making it, at the very least, to the end of this chapter.

“Luccyyyy,” he groaned in an attempt to get her attention.

Nothing.

“Luuuucccyyyyyy,” he tried again.

The only evidence that she had heard him was the way she bit down on her bottom lip, brows furrowed as she kept her eyes trained to the book. She had long since learned that in these types of situations, Natsu would not take no for an answer, and the best course of action was to ignore him until he got bored and found something else to keep him occupied.

Her eyes were no longer focused on the words, instead just trying to keep her gaze anywhere but Natsu in an attempt to win this stupid little game he was playing. Unlucky for her, the boy had come to her apartment on a mission for her attention, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had it.

In her state of focus, she could vaguely hear his voice, though she couldn’t make out what he was saying, which she took as a small victory as she tried to get back into her story. Her eyes focused back in on the words and there was no helping the smug little smirk that made its way onto her lips as she flipped over to the next page.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have celebrated too soon, as her dedication to ignoring her partner would be rewarded with a swift smack straight to the face with her pillow. No longer able to ignore his antics, she looked up at him, only to be met with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

Closing her book and tossing it to the side, she finally gave in.

“Fine. You want a pillow fight? I’ll give you a pillow fight,” she said, meeting Natsu’s gaze, who shot her an excited grin.

With no hesitation, she grabbed whatever pillow was closest to her and swung it with as much force as she could muster, sending Natsu toppling off the bed at the impact, clearly doing no damage, as all she was met with was a bout of laughter and a counter attack as he slammed his own down on her.

Her book now lay neglected on her bed side table, instead Lucy’s full focus was on absolutely demolishing Natsu in their pillow fight, thwacking him over and over before holding her own pillow up to shield her from his attacks. She laughed as he grew frustrated with each attack she dodged or shielded from; a joy that was so infectious that Natsu couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

Lucy chortled as she whacked him in the stomach, knocking the wind straight out of him, wiping tears from her eyes as she devolved into hysterics at the facial expression he made. Taking advantage of her distracted state, Natsu decided to put back in her place and before she could even process what was happening, he had torn away her weapon from her hands and pinned her down to the mattress.

“I win,” he smirked.

“Wh- Hey! That’s against the rules!” she whined, unsure of what the supposed “rules” were, but whatever they were, this felt like a violation of them.

She desperately tried to wiggle out of his grasp to retrieve her pillow to continue their battle, but the grip he had on her wrists made it increasingly clear that she would not be escaping any time soon. With a sigh, she gave in, knowing there was no winning in a game of Natsu’s antics.

It wasn’t until then that she had noticed how close their faces were. His eyes were fixated on hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips and he tried to regain it from their little fight. She quickly felt her face begin to flush at the close proximity, but for once, she made no move to remedy her situation.

“Hi,” she squeaked out, trying to break the thick tension that was beginning to simmer in the air.

“Hi,” he breathed back, his eyes still intense, like he was trying to look deep into her soul through her eyes.

She stared back, trying to get a glimpse of what on earth he was thinking about, but Natsu remained inscrutable as always.

He was so close that their noses were almost touching, if she had leaned up slightly, she would have been able to feel his lips against her own, the way she had always fantasised about. The thought of it began to set her heart racing, and her face grew an even deeper shade of red.

Almost as if he had read her mind, Natsu lowered himself down, and capturing her lips in a clumsy, but genuine kiss. She froze for a second, shock keeping her stuck in place before she could register what was happening. Once her body caught up to her, she found herself kissing him back as they united in an ungraceful kiss. Their teeth clacked slightly when they moved to angle themselves to a deeper kiss, swallowing each other’s soft whines and moans as they explored this uncharted territory together. One hand moved from her wrists to cup her cheek, leaving her hand free to snake up into his hair where she tangled it in his messy locks, her nails dragging over his scalp, eliciting a soft moan from him.

It was only for the human need for air that they broke apart, followed by a long gasp for air as they both tried to process what had happened. Natsu scanned her face for any type of negative reaction, any sort of sign to tell him how she felt, only to be met with her eyes clouded over with desire, practically begging him to dive in for round two.

Not being one to leave Lucy hanging, he leaned back down, encasing her lips with his own once again.

Maybe she was the real winner here.

[miscellaneoussmp]

Something about Bagi makes my brain go brr. Here's some lost memories a brother and sister might share (cw/tw: blood/violence/death mention, general Cellbit fuckery. Singular mention of throwing up.)

Cellbit's hair was not that long yet, and he kept insisting as such. Bagi wanted to attempt to put his hair up so it didn't fall into his face when he was reading. The tiny argument didn't last long, as soon enough Cellbit was sitting in front of his sister, both sat on the floor. They were in front of the tiny television that also sat on the floor, which was currently on a news channel. The news anchor claimed that were no leads in the large string of murders in the area. Both siblings laughed at the television as if it were a comedy. It was obvious that it was them. If you looked at the clues, the ones they didn't leave. Maybe they just needed better detectives. Maybe the duo were better detectives.

Bagi couldn't sleep, and judging by the lack of snoring coming from Cellbit, neither could he. Their run-down apartment was only one bedroom, so they shared as they always have. Bagi laid on the slightly nicer double mattress, which sat on top of some wooden pallets they stole. Cellbit currently laid on the old worn-out twin mattress they still owned, which lay on the floor. Maybe that's why neither of them could get any sleep. Maybe it was the fact that their thoughts raced too quickly to get any calm. Cellbit finally noticed his sister staring at him and offered to go get them coffee. At three thirty a.m., the witching hour they joked, they both got their coffee. Bagi sat on the countertop while Cellbit just leaned against it.

Cellbit may not seem like it, but he does appreciate routine. Dinner was one of those routines, even though they ate at different times. It became easier for Bagi to eat second, as they could steal cash off whatever body lay cold at their feel and pay for her food. She didn't eat like Cellbit did. Bagi tried to eat like her brother did once, but that ended up with her throwing up into a dumpster in an alley not too long after she ate. She decided then and there to become vegetarian, though she never stopped Cellbit from eating the way he did. Maybe Cellbit just enjoyed the soft moment of cleaning up in the car afterward. Maybe he was relieved to know both of them could eat. Bagi's meal consisted of snacks from the gas station, and of course, Cellbit just had to steal a bit. She yelled at him, clearly trying not to laugh. He didn't try to hide his own laughter.

Bagi was never the best at running, but right now, she had to. It didn't take her long to realize that Cellbit wasn't behind her. They had been planning to leave the country together, but apparently police detectives are smarter than either of the two gave them credit for. The siblings were still better, though. It felt wrong for Bagi to be on her own. She never really had been alone before. She found comfort in the highly publicized trial. Maybe she also belonged in the courtroom. Maybe her brother didn't belong there. It really wasn't long without Cellbit, but seeing her brother again felt amazing. Escaping prison was just his style. It felt great handing him clothes stolen off some random businessman as she put full force down on the gas of the equally stolen car.

Cellbit couldn't believe he finally had a lead on this case that's been bothering him for a while now. Something about it made his brain feel itchy. Bagi had the same feeling as she looked over the evidence and information with him. The years of therapy had both of the siblings confident that weren't chasing something that wasn't there. The case lead had led to a cargo ship, and Cellbit was determined to check it out. Bagi stayed behind to work on a different case. Maybe it was fate. Maybe Cellbit shouldn't have taken a random case from somebody who wouldn't show their face. Bagi was alone again. This time, she was more used to it.

Bagi barely understands why she's on this (prison) island to begin with, aside from the fact she was chosen to come here. She really doesn't understand why this stranger (his name is Cellbit, apparently) looks a lot like her. Bagi doesn't appreciate the déjà vu she gets from looking at him either. Cellbit doesn't understand why this new member of the island (her name is Bagi) looks like him. He doesn't like the feeling of déjà vu he gets when she speaks. Maybe they knew each other before the island. Maybe they knew each other in a previous life.

[polutrope]

Prompt: 18. remember who and what thou art

Amrod & Amras (<- relationship tag and characters)

Thank you!

Thank you @ettelene and @danmeiljie! I wanted to write you a follow-up to Who By Fire for these prompts, but as such it got away a bit from the actual prompts. Prompt List.

1k words of cryptic, unresolved brotherly angst (so the usual flavours for the Mithrim years). Lightly toasted Amrod. Rated T.

Warning for referenced past suicide attempt.

* * *

Seven nights pass before the others notice Amrod’s absence. 

Amras has known, but not because he felt it. There have been moments since Losgar when Amras has felt Amrod’s thought like a wayward gust along the edges of his own. But it is rare now that he feels the presence of his other half. It was not only patches of skin that the flames licked away. They scraped away pieces of Amrod’s mind, too. 

Amras has known because he watched him, when he stalked off into the woods at dawn, seven days ago. 

Is his twin seeking those pieces, when he strays far into the lands about Lake Mithrim? In the early years of their uncertain existence here, Amras followed him; tracked him down and coaxed him back to reason like some wild thing.

Would Amras have pulled him from the burning ship, if he had known that Amrod wanted to die in that fire? Had Amrod truly wanted to die in that fire? Surely, Amras would have known. Would have felt his own soul straining for release along with him.

There are only so many times Amras can set aside his own life, tuck away his own grief and rage to save his brother, before he begins to wish he had not the first time. And that is a terrible thought.

So he lets him go, and the others worry about another brother who has been missing far longer. 

In the last few months, though, they seem to have forgotten Morgoth and Maedhros both. They have turned all their worry towards the threat of another fortress across the lake; the threat of revenge. That is why, when Amrod’s absence is finally noted, their faces are tight with concern. 

“Why did you say nothing?” Celegorm shouts, grabbing hold of Amras’ arm.

“Perhaps you should ask yourselves why you did not notice,” says Amras. He shrugs out of Celegorm’s grip and rakes his eyes over the rest of his brothers. They look away. They bow their heads in shame. 

Maglor will not write to Nolofinwë, not yet. He says he does not believe their half-uncle would take his own nephew captive. Curufin accuses him of cowardice. He will go himself to Nolofinwë’s camp himself, he says, if Maglor is too ashamed to face them. 

“Enough!” shouts Maglor, schooling his little brother with his voice, the only real power he wields. 

Amras thinks them all cowards. A search party is sent out. Amras does not join it. 

Another seven nights pass, and still there has been no word exchanged between the two hosts. Many words are thrown about in the council room, though. Words about launching the first assault against Nolofinwë’s camp, before they are put on the defensive themselves. 

Amras removes himself. He sits in his brother’s room and stares at the shape of Amrod’s body still imprinted on the reed mattress. They used to share sleeping quarters in Valinor. It was only after the fire that Amras made physical the wall that had fallen between them. 

But Amras is bound to his twin by both blood and oath. Such bonds cannot be severed by walls—nor by captivity, nor by mountains, nor by an ocean, nor by the long and heavy passage of time. Not even by death. 

The sound of metal clattering against wood rouses Amras from thought.

“Hello, Russa.” 

Amras turns to see his brother standing in the doorframe. He has discarded his belt and cloak on the table beside him, and crosses the floor to sit on the bed. 

Amras’ heart races with relief at the sight of him, but he reins it in, he says nothing. They have been here before. 

“What are you doing here?” Amrod asks lightly, as if he had not been gone more than a few hours. He unlaces and kicks off his boots.

“Waiting for you,” Amras answers, cold and measured. 

Amrod’s smile reveals a faint new scar across his face. It sets a tremor in Amras’ hands.

“Where did you get that?” asks Amras, threading his fingers tightly over his knees. He ought to have followed him. 

Amrod shrugs. “Hunting.” 

He sits upright with a relieved sigh, and Amras notices his fine linen tunic, delicately embroidered around the neck and sleeves. He has never seen his brother wear it. It is not like the work of the local Mithrim, either; it is Noldorin in style. 

“Whose garment is that?” Amras asks. 

“It was my healer’s.” 

Amras studies the scar again. It is evident that it was treated skillfully. In time there will be no scar at all, as if the wound had never been there. The question flutters around the back of his mind: Who healed you?

But Amras knows. He knows because the walls around Amrod’s thoughts are naught but sand, and they are blown away by the softest touch from Amras’ mind. 

Yes, Amrod confirms with a nod. Yes, Nolofinwë healed me. 

“Why?” Amras asks aloud.

A tug on his thoughts pulls him back from this line of questioning. Be content that I was healed, it says, and I am here.

A shiver ripples through Amrod’s body, and silently Amras rises and comes to sit beside him.

“What does it matter?” Amrod asks, lifting his head to look at him. “When one is starved for hope, should he not take whatever healing he can?”

Amras nods, though he is not sure. It is difficult to know, in these dark times. 

He glances at his hand resting on the bed between them, imagines it draped over his brother’s shoulder, but he finds he cannot will it to close that gap. 

Amrod chuckles. “It’s funny, Russa. You are all just as broken as I am. On both sides.” He takes Amras’ hand in both of his and pats the back of it. “You’ll see. Our wounds will be the thing that stitches us back together, when we remember that we are all bleeding the same blood.”

* * *

Thanks again to @cuarthol for helping me brainstorm this one.

On AO3

[gluttonygirls]

I can offer a prompt...

Let's go with ache~

I'd heard that something had gone wrong with a recent batch of snacks. Something about a recall. An entire aisle of snacks having to be shipped back for disposal or something.

But if all these snacks were even going up for sale, just to be destroyed, then why not take just one or two for myself?

In retrospect, that had been a bad idea. I hadn't figured out how to open the crate at work, and with the fear of getting caught, I'd just offered to take it back to the factory myself. Instead I brought it home, all of it.

In that privacy I'd had plenty of time to set it all out for myself, getting it all together, bringing the whole massive crate into my bedroom. I was only going to have one or two, but I might as well bring it over to my bed for comfort.

It was only after the first one hit my stomach, a single girl scout cookie, that I felt off. Hungry. Really hungry.

"Mmhh... ow..."

A hand went to my belly, cupping the flat surface as it growled loudly. Not just hungry, I felt starving. It was easy enough for me to roll over onto my plush animals and pillows to grab the rest of those girl scout cookies. Passion Patties? Whatever, they weird name was fine, they were just so good. But even as I ate, with each one that passed my lips, I only felt myself growing more ravenous.

And growing in general.

Whimpering in need as I ripped open another pack, stuffing my face, I was too hungry to pay attention to what was happening. I didn't notice as my silken panties started to hug my butt tighter, my billowing hips growing wider and heavier as I bloated up. How the plushies under my stomach were getting squashed down as I billowed outwards, my formally flat middle ballooning up with fat.

Leaning into the box got easier as my chest grew softer, more comfortable for me to actually lay on my front. I needed this cookies so badly. It was just box after box as I grew, my sleepwear underwear growing only tighter as I got bigger.

It was only when my bed started to creak and groan that I paid attention to what was going on. Belching as I leaned up, looking over my shoulder, I gasped.

"F...Fat... s-so fat..."

I felt so painfully full, my stomach gurgling. It was as big as a beanbag chair beneath me, holding me a few inches higher off my mattress. My thicker thighs were squishing against the rest of my covers, each one twice as wide as I had been before all this.

I try to sit up, but my chest, now easily an H cup, sags down the gap between the edge of my bed and the crate. My plump arms are too heavy to lift me. I try to turn away from the contents, to move, but the wafting smell of sugar reaches my nose.

"C-Cookies..."

Licking my lips as I dip my head back into the crate of patties, I keep scarfing them down. Who cares that I'm crossing the five hundred pound mark? Six hundred? Seven hundred? All I care about are the cookies.

It's only when the last one passes by my lips that I finally have it dawn on me how much I ate.

"Hah... ah... ah... owww... aha... hah..."

Taking shallow breaths, I use what little strength I have to flop onto my back. Flatten what pillows and plushies I have left beneath my size, my bed rocks as I sway side to side, my heft enough to creak the frame and crack the wood. My belly, enormous, jiggling, rises up above me like a mountain. My love handles are so vast that they reach the sides of my bed, my hips hanging over the sides. Thighs that were as thick as a tree trunk were buried under my gut, but it wasn't as if I could move them anyway.

My arms are still able to move, though. Straining towards my door, I try to fumble for it. I could open it, yell for help, maybe...

It's a delusional though, it's several feet away from me. Thumping back against my bed, groaning and burping, I instead just lift up my arms to my gut, rubbing small circles as I ease out the stinging fullness.

"Ow.... owie... owowow... aaaaahhh..."

Maybe I shouldn't steal cookies from shady recalled companies anymore.

[lyutenw]

ACOD| Chapter I

"How much longer do I have to wait? Are we there yet?" Aria had spent the last 6 days trapped in a moving prison. The ship had departed the Kingdom of Celenial just before dawn 6 days ago, moving through the abyss of the sea to Oceana, the land of promises.

"We are almost at the port, princess," a young maid muttered, her brown eyes shining while watching the beautiful land of Oceana grow closer. Oceana had been a dream for everyone in Celenial. Who wouldn't dream of a kingdom where you don't have to starve to live another day, if the famines were so much as kind to you. In Celenial only the royal family and the aristocrat families were protected from the angry gods that ruled it.

Aria yawned and looked around her small room; there were dresses and jewelry everywhere, all sprawled out waiting for her decision on which to wear to meet her future husband. Her two maids had practically become one with the window and had given up on helping her get dressed.

She got up from the bed, her whole body aching from sleeping 5 nights to a hard mattress. Her long tule nightgown hanged from her body, she had lost so much weight in the last month. She didn't want to marry him. Not as a sacrifice to a man he didn't know. Her whole life she had longed for freedom, but now she would be the exact opposite; a married princess, a mere instrument to stop the war between the two countries, a mere vessel to bear a child.

"Let us undress you, princess," the two maidens bowed and inched closer to Aria. Aria lifted her hand in the air, stopping them from doing anything and signaling them to get back.

"It's okay, I will do it myself, give me some privacy." The maids looked at each other and slowly inched towards the door, exchanging puzzled glances; the princess had never been one to do things herself.

Once the maids closed the wooden door behind her with a creak, Aria could finally breathe freely again. She let her nightgown slip from her slender body and down to her cold feet. There was a broken mirror at the corner of the dimply lit room, and she caught a glimpse of herself from the back. Her muscles were flexed, her whole body on some imaginary alarm, filled with tension. She tried to relax, took some deep breaths, and let her body grow soft. She could make out thin pale pink lines all over her body, the aftermath of her father, the price a bastard child had to pay.

Aria inched closer to the mirror and softly touched her reflection; sunken eyes in a turmoiled brown looked back at her. Her hair though washed only yesterday was matted, its vivid red color a thing of the past. She held back tears and turned to her dresses.

"Who am I kidding," she muttered again and again as she went through the many dresses. Aria had already pictured the prince's wide eyes as soon as he would see her. Red hair, meaning the bastard princess. She would be rather lucky would she walk out the palace unscathed and with her head intact between her shoulders.

She shook her head and picked up a black velvet dress. She mourned the day of her wedding, as it would probably be the day she dies.

❋

The first thing Ellian noticed when Aria walked in palace was the way her curls bounced as she dragged herself to where he was standing. Fiery red, the same way her eyes burned. Her body was a different story; she walked slowly and painstakingly; her shoulders were hunched over as if she was carrying the weight of the world. Ellian burrowed his brows, correcting his thoughts as he realized she probably was, Celenial was her world.

His father, the King, scoffed as soon as he laid eyes on her. Everyone in Oceana knew that the red haired one was the daughter of a servant.

"Where is Zaya," the king, Pallius, asked Aria, before she even got to introduce herself, stopping her dead in its tracks. Zaya is Aria's sister, the 'real' royal. With the brown hair and eyes of the queen; her spitting image. Instead, Aria had the fierce blood red hair of a servant, but the golden eyes of the king. The king looked at Aria from head to toe, before he settled his eyes on hers, staring deeply. His mouth was a line, Ellian could see his tight jaw from the side. He was furious.

Aria bowed and without an ounce of fear retorted back in a somehow even colder voice than the king.

"She is sick, so the king sent me in her stead. I am my father's daughter as well."

"Bullshit," the king raised his voice.

"He just didn't want to give up the heir to his throne and sent me the bastard one." Pallius inched closer to Aria, she could smell his breath; bitter and sour.

"How am I supposed to wed my son, the future king, to a red-haired impure child?" If even a rose petal dared to fall on the floor, everyone would hear it loud and clear. Aria didn't break eye contact once, but she could feel herself starting to shiver underneath her black gown. The lace and tule dress had been enough to keep her warm before, but now the room was freezing. It took everything strength she had inside her for her teeth not to chatter and her shivers not to be apparent.

"Father," Ellian softly touched his arm and looked at Aria.

"It is a 6-day trip from Celenial, she must be tired. Let's talk about it when dinner comes in a few hours." Despite the softness of his touch, Ellian's voice was hard as steel and cold as ice.

"Well then. Show her to her room," the king signaled to Ellian.

"Dinner is in 3 hours," he declared, his boots echoed as he disappeared behind a colossal golden door. Aria could only guess that was the main ball room from the glimpse she managed once the king opened the door.

The prince's soft façade fell, and he looked at Aria coldly, his forest green eyes scanning her and her expressions.

"You, alone, come with me," he said and turned his back to Aria. He called a few servants, who disappeared from Aria's sight along with her two maids and the general commander that had ensured her safe arrival.

It was only the two of them now.

Aria followed him, having to quicken her pace as Ellian was extremely tall and his pace fast. It was all she could do not to step in her long dress as she almost ran behind him. Finally, after what seemed like 10 minutes, they reached a long corridor of closed doors. Ellian approached the second one on the left and motioned her to step inside.

Aria found herself in a huge bedroom, blindingly beautiful. Everywhere she looked were pastel pink accents and golden jewelry, presumably gifts for her arrival. The bed was huge and in the middle of the room. There was a long white lace dress sprawled across it, which she realized was her wedding dress. Her room back home was not even half the size; she could easily get lost in this room.

Ellian closed the door behind them and before Aria could realize what he was doing, he grabbed her by her neck and pinned her to the wall. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see and her head hurt from the impact. She tried to grab his hand that was on her neck, hit him until he lessens his grip, but he wouldn't budge. The strength with which he choked her was getting greater with every second that passed, and she was starting to see black from the corners of her eyes. It wouldn't be long before she would faint, and she dreaded to think of what he would do to her once she was unable to defend herself.

"Why you?" Ellian asked, his voice low and ringing menacingly in Aria's ears.

"I-I can't-" Aria choked out, her veins pulsating through her head and ears. She had a minute before blacking out at most. She continued to hit his hand with hers, only she was getting weaker and now could barely lift them.

"Don't think for even a second that I am going to respect you," he spat and lessened his grip enough for her to take a sharp breath.

"If we get married, you are my little toy. A princess and a queen is far from what you will become." Ellian let her go and Aria dropped to her knees, gasping for air, her eyes bloodshot. She brought a shaky hand to her neck where a purple bruise was starting to form. Her skin was tender to the touch; it made her wince. Silent tears fell as she tried to think rationally.

It was either she became a slave to the prince or shipped back a corpse.

"I had no choice," Aria heaved and raised her head to look at him. Ellian fell to one knee and gently placed his finger under her chin, raising her head softly to look him in the eyes. This gentle touch was the complete opposite to him almost strangling her.

"Such beautiful eyes, they remind me of the sun." He let her head fall abruptly. He got up, leaving Aria curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Look forward to tonight, my little doe." Ellian chuckled and left Aria's room. Aria struggled to raise herself from the cold marble floor, the nickname he gave her echoing in her ears along with his eyes burning her skin. She raised her arms slowly and covered her chest, her cold finger circling around her skin.

She dragged herself to the humongous bed that now seemed able to swallow her and rubbed her palms on her dress. The fabric burned her cold palms, but it was the only way to stop them from shaking, and the only way to keep herself from bursting to tears.

She looked towards the door and realized she had just entered a more luxurious prison. There was nowhere on this land that she was safe, even more so in this palace. Before any thoughts of escaping could enter her mind, a maid with grey hair and a wrinkled smile let her know that she should take a bath and get ready for dinner.

The maid didn't seem to notice Aria shaking and crying, and if she did, she was good at masking it. She left as quietly as she came, leaving Aria in a deafening silence.

---------------------------------------

Tag List: @angie-j-kay @mysticstarlightduck @boundedsea

[dreamoonverse]

“I always be around,”

Ghost!Bucky x Reader

Mentions: death, think that’s it lol

(I got inspired by @treatbuckywkisses to write this I think I had to repost it separately for the moodboard they made go check it out, let me know if anyone wants a part 2 this was just at random to write lol)

You drove up to the house. It was definitely a old worn out house. Vines growing along the sides of the house. Your friends couldn’t understand why you even wanted to stay in such a place. You could’ve stayed with them, bought a house or rented an apartment something affordable but yet you chose in the middle of nowhere. Honestly you needed to be alone, your life wasn’t as enjoyable as people thought. For once, you just wanted quietness and some sort of peace. It almost was like something compelled you to sign those papers. Even the real estate agent was surprised you didn’t decline the offer course you thought the price was too good to be true guess they were practically begging to get this off the market. Nonetheless, you found your home…nothing could mess that up…

It took about a week to get everything unpacked. Your cat alpine just was there for moral support. Come to think of it, it was kinda funny how you found the little fur one. Your first night you heard scraping and wimpers while trying to attempt to sleep on the air mattress you put in what would be your bedroom. You practically jumped out your skin half asleep feeling something brush against your skin till you saw this little white fluffy creature crawling on your stomach. “How did you…I hate cats,” you groaned it was really strange you never saw this cat before no mentioned of strays yet here was this little ball of cuteness staring at you. You sighed “alright just tonight till I can figure it out in the morning,” you settled noticing a collar that read “alpine,” but no other information which wouldn’t help but at least you got a name.

You finished putting the last book on your shelf “Finally,” you felt so productive you did this all on your own no help. Not that you needed it you spent doing that most of your life anyway. “Okay alpine we are finally in.” You petted her while she sat on her little castle. You couldn’t deny she grew on you and with fast shipping you made her feel cozy besides you really didn’t want to be totally alone or so you thought.

You ordered Chinese, made a bath, drank wine. Had yourself a little selfcare moment before you would get to work after the weekend. Luckily you had a stay at home job thank god for that, you were a writer and your best place was at home to write.

The night carried on, you eventually grabbed a book from your shelf. You had tons of books and figured that would help you fall right to sleep. Alpine found her way beside you while you read it was nice. You let yourself escape reality channeling into another world. It was going great for a while. *thud* it was enough to make you jump again. “What the hell…” you sat the book down sitting up maybe you were just going crazy for a moment you did drink a couple of glasses of wine. You wait a few good seconds nothing. You take a few breathes letting out a slight chuckle “okay y/n you need to sleep,” you say turning out the light easing down to the sheets you just washed too getting comfortable. It was about 5 minutes later when you heard something else. You were just about to dose off but something was shuffling. Like footsteps, they were heavy and the sound was getting closer to the door. You turn to your side alpine was there practically asleep.

“Okay hell no.” You hissed turning on the lamp kinda shaking some. “No your a bad bitch, someone is in this house you should’ve gotten cameras or something dumbass,” you scolded to yourself getting up grabbing the nearest object to you in your drawer. A taser. You always kept it in there it was a Christmas gift from your best friend as a joke but damn sure might come in handy. You practically tip toed to the door opening it quietly as you could though a little creek from the door didn’t helped. You grabbed your phone too creeping through the dark fuck you hated the dark. You were scared as hell didn’t care but if someone did break in best not to draw attention to yourself. Barely any light from the windows around helped. As you walked, breathing heavy again. You started to smell something. It was like a woodsy scent, pine maybe. Kinda reminded you of the fresh balsam candle your mom would light around this time.

The smell grew stronger as you walked downstairs. Still no sign of no one, it was getting cold too, like fucking freezing ugh you didn’t want to run the heater yet but damn it was tempting. You checked around the kitchen this time turning on all the lights. Nothing not anything. So what the fuck did you hear…you shrug it off and went back to bed eventually falling into a deep sleep.

A couple weeks carried on, you sat on your porch with your laptop writing. It was cold yet the sun was out you drank some coffee. You listen to some music chilling attempting to write a murder mystery. Your phone buzzed and a text message from your best friend popped up.

Dude you gotta see this…I told you buying that house was a bad idea.

*attachment file*

You shook your head and clicked the file. It was definitely your house. An article that read “the tragic story still goes on…” you frowned oh great this has to be good. You started reading it.

“James bunchan Barnes, a former sergeant in the U.S. military. Born march 10, 1983 - passed on October 31st 2019”

You paused in your reading. It sent a shiver down your spine but you continued on. He was topped ranked in his division, his bestfriend was captain Steve Rogers. They saved countless lives earned their way. It was incredible but yet it made your stomach queasy. Why hadn’t the agent mentioned this? Half of the town would know. You kept reading though learning about his family he has a twin sister Becca says she still resides in another part of town. Maybe you could see her or something. But it’s all too soon you get to the part that practically makes your breathing stopped. How he died…

“On the night of October 31st, around 11:30 pm. James was riding his motorcycle down elms road at a speed of approximately 50 mph. Witness say he didn’t stop, people started yelling noticing how close he was getting to the railroad tracks, the lights flashed yet he didn’t stop or proceed to slow down. Before anyone could predict he collided with the train and the rest was history…”

You sucked in a breath “oh god…” you wanted to cry you didn’t know the man but damn…what…how you would never know. And then towards the end of the article a picture was shown why they didn’t display this at the top you wouldn’t know. Yet you took it in. Honestly he was breathtaking, he didn’t smile but he didn’t look totally upset. Like a resting face. Short dark hair, iris blue eyes, wearing a black leather jacket, black t-shirt. Damn he was gorgeous. As the article stated they don’t know what really happened if it was just poor timing or would he…you didn’t want to believe that. You closed out of the article feeling the wind pick up alpine somehow found her way to the curb meowing, looking up at the sky maybe. Kinda weird though how she didn’t really move at all. You called out to her like 3 times and then she came to you.

You spent the rest of the day working watched a movie with alpine. You needed a shower went to the stripping down and got in letting your mind wander while you showered. You closed your eyes standing under the water feeling at bliss for a moment but something felt off. You didn’t know but you didn’t feel alone. You lift your head up your shower curtain kinda looked a little darker, like something standing infront of it. You quickly snatched the curtain opening it breathing hard no one there though….maybe the article from earlier was playing on your mind. You got out grabbed your towel standing in front of your fogged mirror for a moment to gather your thoughts leaning your hands on the counter bent forward.

You stare into the mirror. You couldn’t make out your own image clearly but something made you look still. Like you were being pulled into a trance or something. You felt something on your shoulder it was warm, like hand resting on it before it trailed down your arm. Sending goosebumps through you your breath hitched. And then next thing you know you feel it on your other arm. Something hovering over you, the fresh balsam hitting your nose again you sigh out. Feeling a warm breath on your skin, it was inviting. You lean your head to the side closing your eyes what the hell was coming over you but yet you didn’t want it to stop.

*meow* you sucked in a breath startled realizing alpine was between your legs looking up at you with those big eyes kinda like “you’re okay,” you shook your head holding your towel still around you when you looked at mirror something clear as day read

“I’m James…”

[kytra-and-tryder]

Dark Side Switch 17

The rain poured onto the dimly lit streets. A lone figure made her way down the path, limping heavily; she turned toward one of the unassuming apartments and beat her fist on the door, heavily. 

When it opened, a Rodian stared into the steel gaze of Kytra the Sith Lord.

“Where….” she paused, inhaled deeply, and forced herself to stand tall. Hal-See winced at the apparent effort. “Where is Tryder Flynn?”

Hal-See very nearly said no; he’d heard enough about this woman to know better than to let her in. But one look at the way she held herself told him that now was not the time to hold his ground. He turned silently and raced into the cramped house.

Kytra let herself lean against the door frame, breathing heavily. She was trying to think of a way to salvage the situation when Tryder appeared in front of her, brow furrowed in concern but trying to act aloof. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice guarded.

The Nautolan pushed herself off the doorframe, and instead of standing proudly like she intended, she collapsed to a knee. She met his gaze, knowing she looked desperate and afraid -- she WAS desperate and afraid -- and only managed to sputter out “I didn’t know where else to go” before she lost consciousness. 

Tryder had never seen his roommate in such a state before.

Hal-See had sprinted to his door, barging in without knocking, and only said “You need to see this!” before turning and sprinting back towards the front door. Tryder had no choice but to follow, only to see a familiar face in very unfamiliar distress.

Kytra?

She didn’t notice him at first, leaning against the doorway for support, her gaze angled downward. He made his way down the tight staircase and stopped in front of her, trying to not show his worry. She finally registered him when he stood nearly within arm’s reach of her. That… was bad. That was really bad.

“What do you want?” he asked, steeling himself for a final act of deception. But when she tried to stand straight -- to be powerful and in control -- she instead collapsed, staggering to one knee. She looked up at him then, and Tryder was hit by the sheer desperation on her face.

The Sith Lord only choked out “I didn’t know where else to go” before she toppled.

“Kytra?” Tryder stared at her for a moment before it registered that she wasn’t responding. “Kytra??”

He only dimly processed lifting her and carrying her to his bedroom, laying her unconscious body gently on the ratty mattress. The Chiss raced down to grab the medkit they kept in the kitchen, nagging fears racing through his mind -- of infections, or sepsis, or worse…. But he silenced those useless thoughts with the more practical matter at hand. If it came to that, well…. It wouldn’t come to that. It couldn’t come to that.

It was only when he got back, passing through his doorway and seeing the Nautolan lying prone, that it really hit him what he was doing. He was helping a Sith. Not just any Sith, but a scourge of the Hutts, one with a handsome bounty on her head if the number of empty ships in the local port was anything to go by. Not to mention if he vanquished a Sith, he’d surely be permitted back into the Jedi Order. Surely, letting her die was the greater good..?

Hal-See spoke from behind Tryder, trying to peer around the Chiss to get a better view. “Yknow, she’s gotta have a decent price on her head. Enough that we could both sail back to civilized space, and not this stinking hellhole.” Tryder shot him a glare over his shoulder. He couldn’t dismiss the Rodian’s point, though. And yet…

Tryder approached the bed gingerly, carrying the medkit like a peace offering. Even knowing she was unconscious, Kytra was still a force to be reckoned with, and the ex-Jedi wasn’t keen on losing an arm if she should wake up and assume the worst. He softly lifted her wrist, looking for a pulse, when he saw Hal-See peering around the doorframe. He snapped “Are you gonna help or are you gonna leave?” and the Rodian vanished without a word, letting the door close behind him. Tryder turned back to the task at hand, reassured by the feeling of her pulse under his fingertips, marking a strong and steady beat. 

The Chiss paused there, blue fingertips against the washed-out maroon of the inside of the Nautolan’s arm, feeling his chest constrict in a not-unpleasant way. Tryder felt his mind clear. However, this wasn’t like the meditations he’d been taught; instead, it was… almost instinctual, a relaxing of his guard, softness suffusing his existence instead of the crystalline emptiness of being one with the Force.  He sank into the sensation for a moment before his Jedi training kicked back in, knocking Tryder out of his reverie and back into the real world. With a shake of his head, he busied himself with preparing the medkit, grateful for the extensive first-aid training he’d received as part of his years at the Jedi Temple. He worked quickly, not allowing himself to really think about what he was doing beyond his immediate actions; focusing on clinical precision as he sterilized the wound in her side, bandaging it and making liberal use of the bacta. With Kytra stabilized, all that was left was to wait until she woke.

He sat in his desk chair, knees hugged to his chest, and waited.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Goose Comforting You After An Argument

Nick “Goose” Bradshaw X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst. All the angst.

Word Count: 1,197

(A/N:) Okay before people come after me Goose/Carole is my ultimate Top Gun ship. But I just adore Goose and I HAD to write something. Though this one got really angsty! So if this does any good, I will write a fluffy one. If it doesn’t do all that well I most likely still will cause this one hurt!  So to all my fellow Goose fangirls my apologies for the feels! ~Countess

It had started as a minor argument. What had started in normal voices, raised into shouting. Points were made then hurtful things were spoken. That’s when how you felt came out and you immediately regretted it as soon as you said it. With pain taking over the once playful spark in his eyes, Goose silently left closing the door behind him without another word. You fell to the floor sobbing bitterly as your stomach rolled in nauseating waves. How could you hurt him so bad? Why did you say all those ugly things? You had been thinking them for a few weeks now but you didn’t want to say them in that way. You finally pulled yourself from the floor to sit back on the couch just to stare at the door waiting for Goose to come back, but he didn’t. The sun set hours later and still you were waiting. You didn’t make anything to eat cause the rock in your stomach wouldn’t go away, your appetite gone from the emotions that wouldn’t ease. 

When it was clear that he wasn’t going to be back any time soon you went to bed. You didn’t want the comfort of a shower, a hot meal, or any creature comfort known to man. You just wanted to go to sleep and forget the nightmare that had happened. The clock beside your bed read that it was 10:00 so you closed your eyes and tried to fall into dreamless slumber. It was minutes later that you knew that sleep was just straying further out of reach, like all other forms of comfort had.

Midnight came along and all you could do was stare at the clock tears streaming down your face. It was almost two in the morning when the bedroom door creaked open quietly, you didn’t have to look up to know it was Goose. He walked across the carpeted floor silently, clearly he thought that you were asleep and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him otherwise. You heard the rustle of his coat being removed before the other side of the bed dipped and squeaked under Goose’s weight. He didn’t touch you or whisper goodnight like he normally did, he laid there stiff. Like you, it took him awhile to get to sleep, though you still had yet to get even a few minutes of sleep. Once you were positive Goose had fallen asleep you gave up the fight leaving the bed to go into the kitchen. If you couldn’t sleep you might as well make something, even if it’s just a light snack. Turning the kitchen light on you opened the fridge to see what all you could make to eat. There wasn’t much as you and Goose wanted to go grocery shopping together, which you both neither had time for, but there was at least some eggs left.

So there you were scrambling eggs at three in the morning fighting back tears while Goose slept upstairs. Or so you thought. The pilot had felt the slight disturbance of the mattress while you got up, he thought that he had woke you up and you were still mad enough that even his presence sent you deeper into despair. Then he heard the fridge open before smelling eggs cooking. He couldn’t keep doing this as the times between you both were precious to him. His sock feet padded against the floors, but the sound of eggs cooking silenced them to you. It wasn’t until arms wrapped around you did you notice Goose’s presence. You jumped waving the egg coated spatula, if you knew it wasn’t him you would have smacked him the spatula.

“You scared me,” you breathed wiping drying tears from your cheeks.

“Sorry,” he smiled gently rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“You could say that,” you said turning from him, still not comfortable with his presence just yet. The guilt was crushing your heart and you just knew that he was going to want to talk about what happened.

“Me neither,” he replied continuing to hold you while kissing the crook of your neck. “Can we talk?”

“Goose…”

“Please?”

You sighed fresh tears welling in your eyes, “Okay.”

He waited for you to finish cooking before reaching over to turn on the little radio in the kitchen. Even late at night the local radio stations continued to play music. And the sounds of Start Over by John Lennon drenching the silence between you two. Goose took your hand holding your trembling form against his, swinging you both to the beat.

“Earlier did you mean it,” he shivered, hiding his face by keeping his chin on the top of your head.

You were silent nuzzling into his chest, “Not all of it.”

Goose sighed still swaying you both to the music. The lyrics injecting a bitter taste in his mouth. “I understand.”

“Goose,” you choked squeezing him like he could disappear at any second. “ I don’t think I can be a Navy man’s wife. You being gone is the hardest moments of my life and the thought of you never coming back, my heart, my emotions can’t take it. You deserve to be happy and do what you love and I can’t hold you back. No matter how bad it hurts to let you go I can’t drag you down.”

“You could never drag me down darling,” Goose gripped tighter. His voice choking with sorrow. Still the dance continued, like a slow fade of everything disappearing in your lives.

“Goose please,” you begged. “Don’t make this hard. I want to be that somebody for you, but I can’t! It’s too much. Please if you loved me you wouldn’t ask me to live with this fear. And I love you enough to let you go than take you from Maverick and all the friends you’ve made. So please Goose please.”

“If that’s what you want,” he relented sobbing into your hair now.

“It’s not what I want,” you cried with him. “But it’s what’s best for you. Just for tonight stay and then you go and heal before you have to leave again. And I’ll heal too, eventually.”

“I love you,” he said between gasps for air as he fell to his knees.

You sheltered him with your body tears falling into his hair while he weeped in your kitchen floor. “I love you too Goose and I always will,” you choked.

Years later you still felt the ache of losing Goose and you wondered if it would ever ease up until you checked your mail a couple years later. An envelope nestled in amongst the letters crushed the air from your lungs. An invitation stared you in the face with Goose’s name printed on the front. While tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, you choked back a sob. Emotions of regret and happiness warred within your being. Goose had found his happiness and while it hurt like you were being held over an open flame, the elation couldn’t be smothered that Goose had found his forever and that you got to be his even if just for a short while.