#i have a blister on my upper arm

[thekingofchungus]

caught some kind of illness. currently calling it “what the fuck”.

[angelplummie]

getting baby trapped by 30s art……… i m unwell. after a messy divorce with tashi he found you, his kinder, softer, altogether more human younger girlfriend, and he can’t get enough. part of him craves tashis authority, but the other part of him relishes in being more than someone, older and stronger and wiser. he loves the way you make him feel, loves the way you dote on him and listen to him and take him in his entirety. loves the way you don’t play fucking tennis, you talk about other things, care about other things, fuck about other things. loves the way you lay down on your back for him and do as he says, even when he commands you in his soft, kind way. loves the way your eyes bead with tears as he pounds your tight young cunt and stares into your blistering face. he loves to stretch you open on his long cock and use you, use you for his pleasure until you cream and whimper, eat his seed from your sore, spasming cunt. he could fuck you however he wanted, and you adored him for it. in all his years he had never had so much sexual freedom, never been as totally and utterly fufilled. he loves how you thank him, for everything. with the newest dior hanging from your arm, you thank him. with his cum still on your tongue and bleary eyes, you thank him. he loves so much about you he’s starting to think he loves you. he loves you. you’re everything he needs after all that transpired with tashi, he needs someone loving and open. he wants you forever. but you’re so young. you could change, it could all go away so quickly. he needs a way to keep you, to make sure you always look at him with stars in your eyes, make sure you need him as much as he needs you. so slowly, he begins hiding your birth control. not very well, if you really wanted to find it you would have. but you didn’t. and you won’t.

“art,” you sigh as your wonderful boyfriend kisses your neck. you lay on his white sofa together, legs interlocked, pressing into every part of each other.

“art,” you sigh again, his hands palming your breast over your thin cami,”art, i forgot to take my pill. i couldn’t find my pill.”

“hmm,” he moans into your neck, grinding his hips into your thigh.

“art we can’t.”

“i want you.”

you giggle, and let him push away your top, and take your soft nipple into his mouth until it hardened, and deep in your core you felt a furling, peeling pleasure.

“i’m ovulating,” you breathe,”im gonna get pregnant.”

he groans, rock hard dick straining against his shorts, against your supple thigh. his hands roam over your torso and with kitten licks he flicks your nipple. you expel a soft breath, fingers carding through the blonde, tousled hair you suggested he grew out. you were making him young again.

“i want you. i’ll get a condom in a second.”

he’s lying. hes a liar and a bad bad man and he knows it. but he can’t care. you mewl once more about ovulating, but your fingers comb through his hair, and your chest heaves and your eyes flutter shut as he sucks and licks and paws at your tits, humping your thigh with his achingly hard cock.

“i’m… art… pregnant…” you whine half heartedly, but it only makes him sigh deeper, and he imagines the day that you’ll tell him that in complete sentences. would you be teary eyed? would you need convincing? or would you give yourself to him like he felt you would? only time would tell.

“shhhh.”

you twitched, spine arching and pushing yourself further into his mouth.

“i’m gonna grab a condom any second,” he murmured, “i want you now.”

“you have me now.”

he moves up your body and presses his lips to yours, large hand ghosting your jaw. you close your lips against each others, and open again to touch lip to tongue and tongue to tooth, to taste and to breathe each other. he tastes like sweet nothing, like air and cleanliness and summer. you taste like honey to him. your fingers tuck his hair behind his peach fuzzed ear delicately, and you breathe against each others upper lip. his nose mushes against yours and he flicks his tongue at your gums and lips. it deepens, and he toes the line between lavishing you in affection and trying to eat you lips first. it’s hungry and wet, and you forget where his mouth begins and yours ends, all becoming blurred in the spit and the heat of it.

he pulls away, with a spit string connecting your two puffy lips. his eyes twinkle in the dim light that can reach them in your tight embrace.

“why don’t you take off your panties?”

and he leant away, the warmth of his body leaving you burning in its absence. he sat, perched, watching you from above. he looked down his nose at you with a smile, so genuine and yet so condescending. so soft and nurturing, like you needed to be guided and taken care of. that him seeing you naked and feeling your insides and making you stupid and small was what you needed, was how he had to take care of you. it was times like this that you thought about the age difference, when he made you so aware that he could make you want to do anything, anything if it was just to please him. a special ability only he had over you, and if he has his way you would feel it forever. you scramble to be more upright, to rest on your elbows and lift your hips far enough that your reaching fingers could pull down your cotton panties. you writhed beneath him to reveal yourself, nipples peaking from your cami as he watched you fully clothed, in his white shirt and loose pyjama shorts. his hair was ruffled, this way and that, and he looked more collected than he ever had.

shed of your tiny covering, the orange glow of the living room light reflecting off the wetness that was smeared to your inner thigh. from under your lashes u stare up at him, the way his shirt clings involuntarily to the tightness of his core and to his broad shoulders, the way his blonde eyelashes flutter at the sight of your thighs, your hips, your tits, all the parts of you that spill over with softness. your lips part slightly, and in silence you forget what he wants you to forget and beg him to have his way with you.

he was pulled to you once more like a magnet, and you instinctively bent your knees up and spread your legs to receive his torso and hips. he took the bends of your knees in each hand and folded you up so that your ankles hung by his shoulders, bouncing in the air as the sofa gave way for his weight. he knelt above you for just a moment, just a tortuous moment before bending down, sliding his body back so his face could remain above your hot pussy.

with an untroubled drop of the wrist, your legs fell to his shoulders, sprawled on his back. the innermost part of your thighs pressed lightly to his ear, and your heels rested lightly on his back.

with his head situated mere inches from your hot throbbing hole, he took the opportunity to take his time. while he had you in the palm of his hand he made you suffer for it, kissing the tender flesh that shined with the mess he had made for you.

every touch was torture, and he knew what he was doing. his eyes never left your face, the ghost of a smile across his lips whenever they were not eclipsed by the fat of your thighs. your eyes never left his face either, and you watched him breathlessly. he licks a stripe of skin against the grain of your leg hair, and you make a sound like you’re crying.

“oh,” you whisper, “please.”

he hums, laughing. the air from his nose hits your folds and you twitch.

“ok,” he’s soft, controlled, serene.

lips parted, he leans forward into your core, not for one second breaking eye contact with you as he takes your clit into his wet mouth. his pink tongue lathes it, up and down and up and down.

his fingers make sharp indents in your thigh to stop your wriggling, and he forces your ass into his chest. he cranes his neck to eat you deeper, and you cry out, tears beading in your eyes. sucking brutally, he moans into your hole.

“fuck,” you fist the cushion beside you, gathering the fabric and ungathering it,”fuck.”

he eats your pussy like it’s your mouth, makes out with it, makes love to it. he seems to take you in your entirety into his mouth, making you all wet with him, covered and soaked. he reaches up slowly, taking your hand in his, and squeezes it softly. your fingers are tight, paralysed in his hold. the pressure his hand provides gets rid of your compulsive need to squeeze, pacifies you, makes you dumb and limp. you lie back, no longer watching his eyes trained on you, your mouth hanging open and your eyes fluttering closed. you moan involuntarily, unaware at all that you’re alive, that you haven’t died and gone to heaven.

his thumb rubs soft circles on the back of your hand in time with his mouthing, the swirl of his tongue and the rhythmic closing of his mouth. you taste like honey here too, like nectar and sugar and love. your ankles lock together and unlock on his back, and the mere feeling of that sends chills down his whole body.

suddenly he stops. he lays a final fat kiss on your clit, watching as you mewl and your tight, ready hole gushes. he pulls away with your puppy fat legs still hugging side burns and jaw. gently he rises and slips out of your leggy grasp, fingers still interlocked with yours. he wants to kiss you. you are so pathetic when he has his way with you, so passive and pliable. he wants to hurt you because you would let him, but infinitely more and for the exact same reason he wants only to look after you. to make you happy and full and rewarded for your eternal beauty, inside and out.

he wanted to kiss you, and so he did. he leaned over, still completely dressed, and draped his slender, finely chiselled body over yours. it even made him light headed to think about being close to you, to your body, not hardened by the dedication that destroyed him, left soft and unscarred, left without taint. his underbelly of tenderness was your everywhere. you were the rounding to his shoulders, the layer of fat that kept him in warm in winter.

you collided without friction, his wet lips gliding over yours in a dance of want. your legs were still under his control, and as such you were spread beneath him. your knees dangled by his sides, leaving your pussy wide open to leave sloppy kisses on his shorts. you kissed back with the same ferocity. despite your implicit submission, you wanted to consume him as much as he wanted to consume you, if not more. you gave him what he wanted because you wanted to give it to him. wanted to give him everything he would receive.

you gave him your tongue, which he accepted with a grin.

you gave him coiling fingers that grasped the fabric on his back desperately, which he took for momentum. he rolled forward on top of you, deepening the hold his mouth had on yours.

you gave him moans, whimpers from a wavering throat which he took for courage.

“im so hard for you,” you felt the reverberation of his voice in your very core, and you died a sweet death,”i’m gonna put it in.”

“uh huh.”

success. you had forgotten. he laughed, mischievously, and a smile settled into the curves of his face.

all you heard was the snap of elastic, the rustle of fabric and the dulled slap of arts heavy cock against his t-shirt.

all you saw was his pupils grow until his eyes appeared black, like an animal’s, looking at you so directly you felt he saw you deeper than skin, deeper than meat or bone. you felt utterly seen, and utterly loved. you met his gaze pleadingly, eyebrows quirking up in the centre and lips pouting. please, it told him, please my love.

“you want it?” he breathed. pre cum smeared the fat tip, his balls hung low out of his shorts that gathered at his middle thigh. it was so big. long and fat and filling. so big and so pretty, so big and pretty it was all you could do not to cry.

“i want it art,” you replied, voice clipped and cheeks burning,”i want you.”

“yeah?”

he touched your face, from your jaw to the temple. he didn’t even try to kiss you. he just held your face. he was gentle, gentle, gentle as ever. his every action was kind. you love him. you’re in love with him.

“i want you art. i love you.”

and that was that. he was getting you pregnant tonight. someone would have to pry him off of you, because so help him god he would drain himself dry in your hot wet cunt if it was the last thing he ever did.

you squealed as he pushed the entirety of his cock in, bulbous head stretching your cunt wider than any cock had stretched it before. but it slipped in so easily with the outpour of your sticky love. it made a thick squelch, and he groaned so loud, squeezed his eyes shut so hard, you might’ve thought he was being tortured.

“fuck!”

the force of his thrust had caused the thick juices of you arousal to spread around his thick cock where he stretched you out, the pain minimal, familiar and intoxicating.

you throbbed in unison, blood coursing through where you connected. you were so tight and hot, so fucking wet. art struggled, arms bracing either side of your shoulders, to force the rest of himself into you. he also struggled to think, to be a human and not a ploughing, panting, thoughtless dog.

a moan rose through your throat, broke from you involuntarily, came out like the sound of murder. your taut pussy suckled his fat dick with every pulse and quiver. you felt him so deep inside you, and he fought to push deeper. fingers still locked, his crushed your knuckles and your palm.

“oh my fucking god.”

it could’ve been either one of you, because you both meant to say it. this moment of stillness and feeling waited one more second, before art became beast, and drew back his hips so that only his pink tip stayed gripped inside. you felt so soul crushingly empty, until he drove himself back in, and you were brought back to life.

“god,” he pounded any thoughts away, any and all of them, until all you could do was breath and blaspheme, “fucking- christ.”

the buttery, fevered roll of his hips was one he was in no control of. he felt as though he was being moved by some godly force to cram your tight cunt full of him. his jaw hung open, and the hand that didn’t hold yours instead held your shoulder, dwarfing in it in his wide palm. holding onto you for sanity, his eyes opened to take in what he had done to you.

“you’re so tight. perfect. perfect. perfect.”

“i love you.”

“i love you. i love you. please god.”

what was he asking for? was he asking you or god? you would do it for him, regardless. you would do it.

your hand reached into his hair, and tugged hard. a whorish moan left his lips, the rolling of his lower half stuttering as his neck arched up. his knees were spread wide, digging deeply into his sofa. his pelvis moved on its own, smoothly, as if he had reverted to his baser instincts and let years of evolution take its course, nature guiding him to your inevitable impregnation.

you were as he liked you, completely dumb. he was too gone to enjoy it, but on another planet of pleasure entirely. he couldn’t relish in the feeling of control, but he could in the feeling of you, of having you, being loved by and loving you. the suckling heat of you was more than a man could take, and the picture beneath him was no more comprehensible.

your angel lips spread to a glistening tongue, your eyes glassy and dilated, your brow creased, hair mussed. he had to have that too, and so he kissed you once more. the hand on his hair tightened, and he moaned into your mouth.

he pumped your pussy so deep, pre cum was dashed from his oozing tip inside you, heavy balls slapping at your skin. you were so wet you didn’t notice, only felt the heat and the mind numbing ecstasy. the feeling of being pounded like a piece of meat till your tight girl pussy remembered every vein his grown man dick, but kissed like a lover and held like a princess pushed you that much closer, sent you that little bit more over the edge. you needed it. you needed him to cum. to please your daddy.

“i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum inside you.”

“fucking do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. get me fucking pregnant art.”

that was all he needed. he breathed into your lips and cried out, long steady body shuddering like a leaf. he held you close, pressing his weight on top of your till he could feel the fat of your breasts move around his chest. cum, thick and milky white, shot deep into your cunt, which even now gripped him tighter than ever. so much of it too. his meaty balls tweaked as their contents leaked into where they were always supposed to go.

your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, parting your lips in a silent scream.

his cock had not moved an inch from where it rested fully buried in your pussy. it was wet. it would spill out once he removed himself. it needed to stay inside.

he pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes fluttering closed from exhaustion and contentedness. you didn’t even think about what art had just done. you didn’t even realise he had done anything. he was just doing what you needed him to do.

you needed him. forever.

[papaya-twinks]

Lando having angry sex with Oscar's sister after seeing her be verry happy for her brother, (they dating though)

Warnings: Smut, 18+, angry sex, degradation

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

It was moments like these that you were afraid of.

When your brother, who you valued very much, and the love of your life came together. And they did, with McLaren and their stupid strategy, with asking Lando to give Oscar the place. You were on Lando’s side, but couldn’t not be happy for Oscar…he was your brother after all, right?

But Lando’s anger was justified, and the criticism, especially when right to his face? It was uncalled for. “Y/N,” Lando said, his voice deep and practically a growl as he sunk his nails into your upper arm, pulling you up and dragging you to your room.

Oscar was busy with the team and showing his trophy, much to Lando’s annoyance, and all the Brit wanted to do was get out of there and deal with his anger. And you were perfect for it. The sister of the man who stole his second win in F1. You were dating, yes, but all Lando saw you as was Oscar Piastri’s little sister.

“Lando,” you gasped, but he put his hand onto your mouth, halting any sound to come out as he dropped you to your knees, locking the door as he tugged his fireproofs down, resting your head against the wall. This wasn’t a blowjob, more of a throat fuck, with how much he was moving, your gags oblivious to him.

Obviously, he didn’t overstep the pain line, merely dancing along it as he rocked his hips, one hand tugging on your hair, the other holding your head in place. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, “I should’ve won,”. All that came from you was a gag. “If I had won, and your brother hadn’t gone and ruined my chances,” he groaned.

“Then maybe I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing to you now, yeah?”. You knew what he was insinuating, that it was kinda your fault for…being related to Oscar? But you didn’t mind, you knew he was angry and he had every right to be. You gasped as he spun you round, lifting your dress over your ass, his hand coming down in a harsh smack as he aligned himself with your dripping core.

“Fuck, Lan,” you whined at the feeling, but he didn’t say anything, instead moving his hand to cup your jaw, pressing his index and middle finger into your mouth, his dick sinking into you. Your moans and whines were muffled by his finger as he rocked into you, his pace almost blistering.

Fucking hell, you were close. And that in itself was an understatement. You felt like you were about to explode from sheer pleasure, the sheer joy and how amazing this man was making you feel, mixed with the slight pain. Jesus Christ, he was a man after your hear (and pussy).

You could feel your high building up with every slam of his hips into you, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as you coated his fingers in your salvia, your eyes rolling. “That trophy should’ve been mine,” he groaned, “got that stupid helmet and all,”. He was pissed, and you couldn’t complain.

“Would’ve fucked you so well after if I had won,” Lando groaned, well, this was a good fuck too, but you knew it would be more…loving if he had won. “It was all coz of Oscar,” he groaned, “and the strategy and…and…” his words were replaced by a guttural moan as his cum shot into you in thick hot ropes, your orgasms simultaneous.

“I should have won,”.

A/N - I wrote this in 8 minutes, I am proud :)

[francixoxoxo]

your chronic pain w billy was so good and i’m on accutane rn so i’m suffering w it too😢 could u write that or something similar for coryo :)

Ohhh I’m so sorry I wouldn’t wish this on ANYBODY I’m having flare ups rn so perfect timing 😭😭 I got TWO ideas for this

୨ৎ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 ୨ৎ

Coriolanus notices immediately. You’re shifting uncomfortably on the chaise against the wall of his office, resting your hands under the small of your back, shifting your legs to try and crack the bones in your hips for relief. Even with all the money he’s poured into physical therapy and medication for you, you’re still in pain. Nothing makes Coryo feel more frustrated.

You’re trying to keep him company as he works, though he’s certain that the red, velvet-upholstered chaise can’t be entirely comfortable. Maybe he’s rushing his work just a bit, finishing early perhaps at the cost of quality but who cares, he can just revise tomorrow. He’s pushing his chair out of his desk, his loafers making distinct thunks on the hardwood, wordlessly scooping you into his arms. The movement surprises you, a gasp slipping past your lips. “Coryo?”

“Is your back hurting?” Is all he mumbles, turning ‘round to push the door open with his back. You can tell that he’s bringing you to the bedroom. You nod plaintively, he goes on. “It’s been worse lately, hasn’t it?”

You purse your lips as Coriolanus opens the bedroom door again by pushing his back against it. He lays you down across the bed, cloaked in darkness until he turns on the lamp on your nightstand. You speak softly, the tone of a woman exhausted. “It might just be the weather.”

The winter cold tended to make your joints ache something fierce. Coriolanus nodded darkly, gently rolling you onto your stomach. “What are you doing?” You huff without bite, making your husband snort.

“Trying to make it feel better.” He mumbles, presses his thumb down the center of your back— in search of your spine, you think. “Where is it today?”

“Upper and lower.” You murmur, giving into the soothing comfort of Coriolanus’s hands where it aches. You don’t see the way a frown creases his face, though you hear his sigh as he presses his thumbs along each of your vertebrae. “What are you trying to—“ your words are cut off with a stifled groan. His eyes lift from your back.

“I asked the physical therapist what I could do.” Is his only explanation, as he gently presses his knuckles into the specific vertebra that aches. It feels as though the compress your body as been locked in is slowly being relieved, the pressure being loosened like clay being spread with a rolling pin. You sigh in soft relief, letting your eyes close.

Now and then it hurts a bit, but not before the pain dissipates into a pleasant feeling of melting tension. Coriolanus presses sweet kisses to your cheek and the exposed skin of your back under his hands, stopping only when you insist that you feel better.

OR MY ACTUAL FAVORITE IDEA

Coriolanus held you by the waist, tucking you into his side as he talked with a colleague. You were nearing the later hours of the event, your heels beginning to ache and dig blisters into your skin, your eyes growing hazy as your contacts dry, and most especially? Your back beginning to ache fiercely.

You were grateful that your husband didn’t question you walking away from a circle of his colleagues wives and socialites to lean your head on his shoulder. They weren’t interesting conversation, anyway. Coryo occasionally rubs your hip gently. His hand provides a bit of warm pressure onto the ache in your bones, but not much, slowly it’s becoming unbearable. But you didn’t want to interrupt the conversation between them, so you stayed quiet, trying to put off the crushing pain in your lower back.

A sharp stab of pain shot up your spine as you did such a simple act as shifting your weight to your other heel, eliciting a grunt from your lips. You recoil from Coryo, a hand flying to your lower back. Coriolanus’ face whips over, azure eyes widening as they settle on you. The colleague’s voice dies in his throat as the president rubs a strong hand over your back, above where your own hands lay, his brows drawing in concern. “Darling? Are you all right?”

With a tight expression, you nod stiffly. Your husband can see through it as though your eyes are glass panes. With a brief look to the man he was speaking with, he murmurs close to your ear, “Let’s go home, hm? We’ve been here a while.” He understood the problem without words. It’d had been plaguing you for so long, to his dismay, that he had become accustomed to bending to your pain’s whims.

You remain tight-lipped against the pain as he says his goodbyes, plaster a smile as you say your own. Though the moment your backs were turned, Coriolanus opening the door to the villa for you, you grimaced deeply. “I’m sorry. You were enjoying yourself until I spoiled it!”

Coriolanus huffs, a faint smile even crossing his lips as he follows you outside. “Enjoying myself? My love, that was the most painfully boring, gut-wrenching,” His smile grows and a chuckle slips from his lips at your own giggles, a husband’s pride, “tear-jerking, eyelid-drooping event in my life.” You know he’s being dramatic to draw good spirit out of you. But his humor can’t lift the guilty burden off your mind, nor the physical one on your back.

You move to step down the grand, marble staircase to the valet, “I hate to be such a—“ before you can speak— or step, for that matter— a pair of arms sweep you up as if you’re a paperweight. You gasp, the voice dying in your throat. “Such a what? A darling? A beauty?”

There it is again, that dramatic tone, that desperate attempt at coaxing a smile from his wife’s lips. You sigh as he walks down the staircase, tucking you securely in his arms. “No, such a burden.” You groan. “You shouldn’t be worrying over my problem.” Coriolanus shakes his head passionately.

“You aren’t any burden. It’s my job to take good care of you,” Coryo insists, reaching the end of the stairs but not releasing you. He speaks to the valet for a brief moment, turning his face back to you. “Your problems are mine.”

“That’s not in the vows.” You sigh, a frown still creasing your pretty face as you rest your ear to his shoulder. Coriolanus huffs indignantly as he watches the Oldsmobile roll up to the curb. “It should be.”

With a nod to the boy handing him the keys in the hand now around your knee, he gently lowers you into the passenger seat, opened by said worker. As he settles into his own seat, fixing his collar before reviving the engine, he speaks with a seriousness only death denoted. “We need to renew our vows. Tack that on.”

Your brows draw in a cocktail of confusion and pain as you settle into the seat, spine adjusting excruciatingly. “Tack what on?”

Coriolanus leans towards you, elbow on the center console and his hand turning your face by a gentle grasp on your chin. His words are murmured into your lips, “Your pain is mine to carry.”

[bonesandchalamet]

from the shining lights, to the sandy beaches, I’ll only love you — p.mellark

masterlist | pairing: peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: bored and facing the capitol, you give the citizens of panem some drama to spice up the games

warnings: slight mentions of 18+ ideas but nothing graphic + mentions of insecurity

hours you think. it had to have been hours layered laying in woven grass blankets with flattened bread in your pockets that’s sure to be moldy soon from the moisture.

“how long have I been out?” a grunt escapes your lips to signal your awakening to them. you attempt to sit upward, but your hands were badly blistered and your arms were weak.

peeta lunged into the makeshift tent, he gently lays you back down shushing you to not worry about taking the next shift. after all, you’d been the one to trip over rocks in the acid rain, if anyone should get sleep it’s Finnick who carried you like it was nothing.

Finnick. sweet, sexy, district four, Finnick odair. the man women are obsessed with, and you could see why. his beautiful blue eyes and cocky smile, if it weren’t for the baker beside you, you’d be all over that fine man.

there was nothing wrong with peeta. his tenderness, the warmth he provides, he was an amazing boyfriend. but the ever thought of another man seemed to spark a load of questions piling up in your brain.

the storm had been out for awhile now, leaving you with some time of peace. you flip onto your left side, facing peeta, a wicked smile lifts your lips that he can’t even read. but it gives him something to laugh at in this place, “what’s your problem?”

“if you could fuck someone in the capitol would you do it? someone dressed like Effie?”

finnick makes a repulsive noise. hes had a fair share of capitol women, and even the sight of Effie was enough for him. having ran into her with zero makeup on, and nothing but a wig, Finnick odair would rather steer clear of any women from the capitol.

“I’d really prefer we think about our game plan—“

“it’s a simple question.” johanna finally wakes, she sits up carefully, her voice draws finnicks attention briefly from looking out.

sweat thickens above his upper lips. peeta knows there’s a correct answer. being in love with you, he’d never thought of another woman, so why would you ask? he can only imagine to lighten the mood, lift the spirits of the citizens watching in boredom, so he thinks it’s not harmful to play along?

“I’ve only ever wanted intimate moments with you.” peeta extends out his hand, the roughness of his palm touching your cheek, “you know I only love you.”

“this is such a yawn.” Johanna counters, she eagerly sits forward breaking the moment, “not a single woman caught your eye on the tour? you’re going to die anyway, might as well admit it.”

peeta let’s out a light laugh, and you know he’s serious. he’s only ever had eyes for you, but to Johanna, Finnick, haymitch, and potential sponsors, he needs to play in. he needs to draw them something, so he does what he’s a natural at; story telling.

“well there was a girl,” he pauses, eyes swiftly glancing at you before back at johanna, “hard to tell how old she was under those capitol lights, but she just kept following me. every room she was there, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.” he looks up the makeshift tent, a sadden glow casts across his face, “I wonder if I’ll see her again.”

you can’t quite remember a woman who followed him in every room besides yourself. maybe that’s who he was discussing? but he’d bought Finnick and Johanna’s approval leaving peeta to slip out the tent.

“what about you, y/n? sleep with a capitol or finnick?”

finnicks head snaps his head in the direction of his name, a spark lights in him earning a bright cocky smile, “I don’t bite, babe.”

it’s your turn to make a repulsive noise, but you know everyone at home is inching closer to their screens: would you screw around with Finnick for a night? or would you dare head back to the capitol? Finnick it is.

“just for a night,” you pause taking a long look at peeta. he’s fixated his eyes on something with the sand, probably just to occupy his mind from this conversation that’ll haunt his last memories with you, “I’d do Finnick, on the count that peeta can be there.”

“a threesome?” Finnicks words echo across the sandy beaches practically giving away your hiding spot, “I’m not sure I’ve ever done that.”

“I’d pay to be a fly on the wall of that night.” Johanna grins.

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’d well with sharing.” Peeta blurts out.

a wide grin takes hold of Johanna’s face, yours is covered in a deep red blush that you’re thankful no one can make out in the darkness.

“peeta, possessive? never would’ve thought of that.”

it’s a shock to everyone, even you. peeta never showed any care that you were close to other guys, like Finnick or even beetee, but maybe it’s because he always knew you’d come back to him. he always knew it was him you’d love and swear you’d never leave. it must be the insecure feeling that if you saw what Finnick had, you’d leave.

to answer his worries, you wrap your arms around peetas neck and press a long kiss to his lips, “I kind of like it.”

“I’d rather sleep with haymitch than either one of you lovebirds.” finnick answers johannas question that was slightly forgotten from you three in the tent.

“come on, it’s my turn to watch.” johanna crawls out the tent, and for a second it’s just you two alone. you slip beside him, resting your head against his bicep, “who was the girl from the capitol?” you whisper.

a smile lifts to his lips, his shoulder slightly budges you to sit up, “who do you think?”

it was you. only you.

[chlmtsdoll]

I accidentally uploaded the unfinished version and had to delete. I’m sooo sorry original anon. 😭

౨ৎ Summary: Art comforts you after a semi-panic attack due to an allergic reaction <3 | hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, anxious reader, caretaker Art 🤍

“Princess… I really don’t think it’s that bad- -”

“Art, it’s getting worse by the second.”

You were basically panting as you dropped your bag to rush to the bathroom. Not giving yourself a moment to even proceed much as unbuckling your heels or slipping your dress — just your purse going flying across the room. Nearly hitting Art who was left by the doorway in worrisome hesitation as he observed your quick actions.

You stared yourself down in the mirror. Immediate curses spewed from you because you were right.

It was worse than worse.

A bright red and swollen discoloration took place on your upper cheek. You were terrified that if you just touched it, it would blister. Before you’d even left for dinner with Art, you assumed it was merely just a pimple. A zit even. And although your intuition told you to stop overthinking it, after all — your skin care had been eighty five percent of your priories. You strived to have the most spotless elevated skin, always in overcrowded lines just waiting to get the latest and best products for your face. But even with all that reassurance that there was no way your almost seven step routine could have gone wrong.. your gut had told you otherwise.

You couldn’t have really heard his slow shuffle as Art carefully approached the doorway of where you’d been examining yourself. He watched as your hands snaked around the back of your neck, breathe bitching as you started to pace the small enclosure.

He saw it right away. You were in pain. And if he hadn’t had his own calm training drilled so deeply into his capacity, he would have been going absolutely scattered too.

The taller man immediately strides over to where you stand as he tried to get a hold of your arm to turn you towards him with a soft sigh “Shit, shit, shit.. c’mere” Art huffed softly and your almost reddened eyes met his with a slight pout.

Art sucked in his lip as his hands carefully graced your face, But not because what he had seen had been completely disastrous to him, but because he wanted to make it go away. Help in any way he could. Make it better for you.

“I- I don’t know what went wrong, it’s bad. Oh my god.. it’s really bad…” your throat has gone dry, and your voice started to tremble as you didn’t even want to look at your own appearance beyond you. You’re eyes started to swell with readied tears — which only made the blonde furrow his eyebrows in fret.

“Hey, hey.. it’s not your fault, Angel. I promise it’s nothing we can’t fix.” Art ran his thumb over your chin, his expression grew to soften so you’d be more relaxed. The worst that could happen was it being from some sort of stress — and then it would only get worse. “Do we know exactly what could of caused it? You did have fish tonight.. maybe it was shelled and we didn’t know, possibly ?”

“No, no. I don’t think it’s that. It was already getting pretty bad before we left..” you quietly sniffed as the man searched your eyes, and your face.. noting to the rash even if you winced just at his peering gaze on you. You couldn’t of felt more unattractive at the moment, just so made you start to fall insecure even under his caring attitude.

Your eyes shut as you tried to turn away with a whine.

“.. don’t- - look at me, I’m a mess. I can’t even..”

Art shook his head on instant. “Stop. Don’t talk like that… never talk about yourself like that. You’re beautiful. Yeah, it’s a bit swollen but you’re okay.”

Art’s tone was serious and even though you’d been crying like a five year old over some acne, because you got like that. Pouty like a child and angry at yourself for not being perfect at all times — the way Art looked at you, held you, talked you through any difficulties no matter how big or small. If it meant a lot, or was hurting you. He was there to take care of it. So you nodded. Letting your breath steady as you held the wrists of the man in front of you filled with concern.

“I really do think it could of been something you ate, baby.”

“No.. no- - it’s probably my hormones. They’ve been all over the place and… I missed my latest period. I’ve just been off. Physically.” You sigh as your eyeliner met Art and he drifted back for a moment in perplexity and you’d been witness to if he’d gone pale just then or not.

“I don’t- - need to grab a pregnancy test.. do I ?” Arts tone had gone fairly timid as his chest rose and you shook your head before he could get any further with conclusions. You just knew all too well how quickly your overly analytical boyfriend got.

“No, it’s okay… it happens, and it’s normal really. At least according to my gynecologist.” You reassured the man and his tensed up shoulders finally eased in a collapse, he gave you a fond little heartening smile and rubbed your shoulders gently before he thought. Art lifted you up on the countertop swiftly. You sat up there and watched as the man hurried down to his knee to unbuckle your heel.

“Okay. You know what, I can’t make - that - disappear overnight.. but I can help. I can make you feel better.” Arts blue tinted eyes met yours from below as his tender hands got to work on your ankles and you couldn’t help but let a faint hearty smile grace over your lips at the sight of him being him. Art was always just too caring to you and your needs. You could of blamed it on your late menstruation — but it really did just make you want to cry all over again.

Even in times when you felt your lowest, or in this case ickiest, he still managed to keep a somewhat smile on your face. It was all he wanted at the end of the day.

So the blonde rose to his feet, and went to leave a soft loving kiss to your unaffected cheek. His hands gently stroke the side of your thighs in a sympathetic way. “And tomorrow, I’ll call our aesthetician, and we’ll get you back to normal sweets, okay ?” Art questioned in a calming tone as he bent a little to search your eyes for any discomfort, to which you nodded again and your lips curled into a light simper as you lead a simple “okay.”

It was rewarding enough to see Arts teeth come into play when he smiled and left you briefly to get what he knew was one of your overnight facial creams. After washing his hands, the blonde held you still as he carefully applied it to your poor skin, and you closed your eyes as he did so. Art though it was adorable the way you leaned into his touch. When you were all done. He helped you slip out of your dinner dress, tie up your hair and sunk into bed with your favorite comfort movie playing. Art snuggled you all night long — making light jokes about the cheesy romance you ate up on the screen as you laughed at his mocking. The sound of it made his heart beat a little faster. He did whatever he could to prioritize your comfort. Making it all better for his sweet girl was his only job on night like these.

[elliesbluntfr]

Haunting Me. - Ellie Williams

synopsis - a barn dance has been planned for weeks, after a very successful winter you all deserve a party! everybody in jackson will be in attendance including ellie williams, who is hoping that she will see you there.

cw: wlw! no use of y/n, more plot with slight smut, ellie self pleasuring, fingering, mentions of cunnilingus, a lottt of pining from ellie

~this is my first fic!! please be nice lmao and thank you for reading! <3~

————————————————————————

“Maeveee are you nearly readyyy?” you sing excitedly, throwing your hairbrush back on the dressing table after smoothing out the ends of your hair. Tonight was the night of the barn dance. Everybody had been talking non stop about it for weeks and for some reason, the topic never got boring.

This winter was one of the harshest you’ve seen by far, with everybody working so hard it was about time that spring had arrived to ease that work load.

“This night better make up for all those patrols we did, I mean seriously I still have blisters on my heels from last October.” Maeve sighed, appearing from the bathroom after checking herself once more before leaving.

You smile brightly, walking to her and squeezing her hand in comfort. Of course it was all worth it, even if there had been no dance planned, it was just nice to see everybody make it through. The sense of community in Jackson was just impeccable, and your best friend Maeve made it even better.

“Come on girl, let’s go have some fun.” You beam, not letting go of her hand as she smiles in return, following you out of the door.

The slight 9pm chill blows the bottom of your white mini dress against your upper thighs, sending a wave of goosebumps across them, a mixture of anticipation and coldness now evident on your skin. The black slightly fraying cowboy boots you had found at the clothes trade in a few years back crunching against the disappearing frosty grass beneath you. The stitching from the pattern was falling out, but you made do with tying the dangly bits of string in cute bows to give the effect that they weren’t entirely unravelling. You looked stunning anyway, and you felt it too.

“Sooo are you gonna talk to you know who tonight?” Maeve teased, tucking the stray bit of blonde hair away from her eyeline. You knew exactly who she was talking about.

“You mean Jenna right?” rolling your eyes in return. She was just a girl you’d hooked up with a decent amount of times. As great as Jackson is, the dating options are quite limited.

The guys were just well… disappointing, and around 98% of the girls were straight, leaving you with at least 5 options. Jenna was one of them, but you both made it clear, your situation was strictly hooking up. No feelings or anything else. It was the perfect arrangement, and you both had kept it exactly that way for a good 4 months now, up until a few weeks ago.

“To answer your question Maevey, no. She’s seeing Cat now, they seem to be good together.” You answer plainly.

“It’s okay to be jealous you know, you don’t have to put up a front with me.” Maeve adds, her tone shining with sincerity and care. You let go of her hand and link in with her arm instead, resting your head on her shoulder as you walk out of the residential area and onto the main streets.

“I’m genuinely not jealous, it’s just been a while you know.” you chuckled, as Maeve adds in a few agreeing ‘me too girl’ pats on the top of your hand. Raising your head from her shoulder, you turn and face her.

“So go for it with Max already! I know he likes you.” you smirk, watching her blush and roll her eyes.

“You may as well just shut the fuck up right now cause it’s not gonna happen.” she concludes getting flustered, pressing the back of her hand against her cheek to feel the heat coming off it.

“Mhmmm alright then, wait and see.” you taunt, discreetly pointing ahead of you both. There stood the 4 missing friends to your ensemble; Cassidy, Jude, Eddie and Max all huddled together waiting on your arrival.

9:04pm inside the bar.

“Waste of my fucking time.” Ellie mutters, rolling her eyes and tapping her booted foot impatiently against the wooden floor. Jesse scoffs, and turns around to stare at her dumbfounded.

“Ellie. You have been here for exactly 10 minutes. Will you. Give it. A chance?” he taunts at her, knowing full well she’s a short tempered little bitch.

“You know what,” she pauses, snatching the last drink ticket out of his hands,

“Thanks for the drink asshole.” promptly putting a stop to her unwanted torment. A few quick whatthefucks were heard from Jesse, as she chuckled to herself walking away. Approaching the far right of the hall, she hands the ticket to Nick.

“Another whiskey please.” Ellie requests with a nod towards the bottle, which was swiftly picked up and poured into a small glass. Questioning her life choices as to why she came here tonight, she glances out the window not expecting to find you.. the one person she was hoping would show up.

“Here ya go.” snapping Ellie back to the present, she thanks Nick for her drink and slowly walks towards the window to get a better look.

You’re greeting your friends with warm hugs and demonstrating your ‘pretty sexy outfit’ Ellie had described to herself in her head. A few wolf whistles and laughter follows, making Ellie wince in subtle jealousy. That one guy Jude twirls you around. Bastard.

He’s not really a bastard, and Ellie knows this.

Adjusting her eyeline back to you, she watches Maeve take your arm as you guys start to make your away across the busy street. Ellie clears her throat and pushes herself off the wall, heading back to Jesse and Dina.

“Ellie did you take Jesse’s drink??” Dina questions, trying to stifle a laugh escaping from her pretty obvious query.

“Yup.” she answers, toasting the glass of Jim Beam in the air before taking a satisfying swig.

“Unbelievable.” Jesse retorts crossing his arms, imitating a seemingly very sassy man.

Dina entertains this, wrapping her arms around him whilst sarcastically soothing his back with the palm of her hand.

“You guys are gross.” Ellie states, turning to rest her lower back against the table behind her. Dina turns around as Jesse envelopes her from behind. Knowing that Ellie isn’t a fan of these things, Dina reaches out a hand to place on her lower arm encouragingly.

“Why don’t you talk to her Els?” Dina enquires, with a look of positivity on her face hoping it’ll wear off onto Ellie’s current “totally miserable I hate everything about my life” persona.

She just shakes her head and fidgets with the buttons on her long sleeved black shirt. Without taking her eyeline away from the door waiting for you to walk in, losing any sense of confidence she had left in her.

———————————

“Can we go inside already we’re missing it!” Cassidy pleads, grabbing onto her boyfriends shirt in order to urge him to start walking to the bar. A collective cheer sounded, and everybody started the hurried walk towards free booze and a long awaited excuse to dance.

Bursting through the doors, a strong smell of dusty wood lingered heavily in the air, greatly overpowered with the copious amount of laughter and dancing circling your ears. The bar was so cutely decorated, you made a mental note that it should be permitted to keep it this way forever. Fairy lights dancing from the ceilings, swaying every so often due to Tommy lifting Maria up into the air, spinning her in his arms. Others naturally followed their lead in their individual couples, now really making the lights move to the music. Grinning at everybody finally having some fun, someone stuck out like a sore thumb. You spot a girl that looked familiar to you, but couldn’t match a name to her pouty face. Until you saw Dina stood by her, an obvious socialite who was a mutual friend of yours. You had remembered her bringing up this girl before. Trying to trace back to any conversation that might have had her name in it, and then it clicked. Her name was Ellie.

A familiar tune had started to play when you guys entered the bar..

Wagon Wheel by Darius Rucker.

Everybody seemed to know this one, as the majority of the very full bar had made their way to the middle of the room.

The familiar hand of your friend Maeve crept into yours, pulling you along for a dance. The rest of your group followed in a hurried mess, ensuring to not miss any more of the song.

At least half of the room started a line dance, and oh god you had not practiced this particular style. The scurry of feet doubled and doubled, as everyone joined in.

“GIRL I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!” you exclaim already in a fit of giggles.

“LET’S JUST TRY KEEP UP!” Maeve said confidently, and so you agreed confidently too.

It was a mess of course. Tommy and Maria greeted everybody, audibly laughing at your miserable attempt to fit in. Tommy was a master at all things country and western, so he knew everything down to a T.

“TRY IT LIKE THIS.” he tried to direct loudly over the music and the sound of people, but it was no use.

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows, scanning the crowd silently happy with just watching everybody, especially you. Twirling around repeatedly tapping your boots to the beat of the music, you were effortless.

Just effortless. Ellie voiced in her mind, admiring the way your hair was flowing with your movements, always settling in the most beautiful array of different styles with each spin. The sleeves of your dress kept falling from your shoulders, after a while you just gave up with resting them back where they should be. Carefree for those 5 minutes, for the first time in months.

flashback:

She had to admit, your dancing wasn’t exactly the line dancing scene in the 2011 Footloose movie. Last weeks community movie night was of course.. the 2011 Footloose, to get everybody excited and in the mood to dance and celebrate. Ellie had been sat with Dina whilst watching the movie, nodding and singing along to Fake ID when the bar scene came on.

She was sat a few rows behind you, and could see whenever you turned to whisper to your friends or giggled at something that was going on in the movie. Every time you laughed, Ellie laughed too.

“Alright creepo you’re gonna burn holes in the back of her head if you don’t stop staring.” Dina nudged her grinning.

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Ellie hushes, trying to contain a smile batting Dina’s mocking hand away.

A wolf whistle caught Ellie’s attention, coming from one of the guys in front of her as Ariel, the reverends daughter from the movie, appeared dancing on the projection screen. For some reason, she looked at you to see if you had reacted in a similar way to seeing Ariel. She was trying to figure out your type. Ellie knew that you were gay, since the news about you and Jenna had spread around a couple months back. She figured you were into more girly girls, long flowing hair paired with bright colours as Jenna was. Wondering if she could possibly ever be your type was a constant reoccurrence in Ellie’s imagination. Scratching the side of her neck as her mind began showing her intimate moments the two of you have had many times in her head. She thought of you all the time, thought of everything she could do to you. Thought of everything you could be doing with Jenna, which set her body temperature high. Ellie knew she could be better for you. Treat you better, make you feel even better than Jenna does. The heat rising between her thighs alerted her to stop thinking, and to just focus on the movie instead.

It was a miserable 2 hours waiting to get back to her place. Locking her door as soon as she got in, then pulling the blinds closed. Ignoring the pressing feeling in her clit, she made her way to the bathroom to take a shower. Blocking out any image of you that came to her, she shifted her focus on just getting to bed for her early patrol in 7 hours.

Removing her sweatpants and tank, the coldness of the bathroom crept up her skin, making her shiver. The warmth of the water instantly soothed her, closing her eyes and letting herself loosen up. No matter what, you just kept finding your way in.

She imagined you in front of her, the water making your back glisten, almost entrancing her to kiss between your shoulder blades, and all the way up to both sides of your neck. Imagines lightly biting and sucking the sweet spots of your neck, tasting the faint and fading notes of your floral-citrus perfume, making her moan at the familiar comfort of your scent.

Blood rushes to her cheeks. She couldn’t stop herself, teasing her hand down her slick body, stopping at her nipples that were hardened by the thought of you. Her eyes fluttered shut at the wave of pleasure, as her breaths drew louder and deeper. Reaching between her thighs the feeling nearly knocked her over, frantically grabbing onto the shower curtain beside her.

“oh ffuck..” she whispered, already breathless. Her middle finger slid between her folds, seeking that warmth. Wasting no time, her fingers entered inside causing her to moan instantly. The growing desperation of releasing the pressure in her clit was evident, pumping her fingers at a growing pace chasing her orgasm. The moans resting in her throat were growing more primal and desperate with every movement. The shine from the shower water on her abs was replaced with a sheen of sweat, appearing on her forehead and the whole of her chest. The humidity of the shower steaming up the bathroom was making the stars in her vision even brighter. Ellie could have sworn you were with her at one point, chasing the silhouette of your naked body amidst the steam.

“oh fffuck ohmy-nmhhh” she groaned, catching sight of her clenched hand gripping the shower curtain. Imagined she was actually gripping your bed sheets, and you were the one making her feel like this with your tongue stroking between her folds, face getting soaked with her cum.

Her legs were shaking, struggling to keep her upright as her orgasm rushed over her. Cumming as fast as the feelings arrived, she was left breathless by you, and you weren’t even there to see it.

——————————————

“Earth to Ellieee!!?”

a voice broke through to her, snapping her awake from the flashback.

“Oh sh-shit Dina I’m sorry, what did you say?” Ellie stumbled on her words, trying to hide whatever that was with a laugh, but she could only feel how hot she was.

“You’re bright red, are you burning up? Jesse go get her some water.” Dina requested, putting an arm around her to check if she was stable.

“Are you sure she doesn’t want another one of my whiskeys?” Jesse scoffs, still bitter from earlier, but still trails off get some water. Ellie’s chest felt way too hot and tight.. a bit like-

“Yeah I’m great!” Ellie rushed to cut off any further indecent thoughts of you. She knew that she had just blew every chance she had of seeming normal now. Motioning towards the door and without saying a word, awkwardly left and made her way towards it.

So dumb so dumb so dumb. Ellie repeated under her breath just trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. The only way out was through the crowd.

You hadn’t left the dance floor since you arrived half an hour ago, song after song entrancing you to keep dancing. Your excellent way of sweet talking gained you a few extra drinks, might have helped that one of the guys had a crush on you.. idiot didn’t realise you were gay.

Maeve had been with you the whole time dancing and trying to attract Max’s attention, with some encouragement from the alcohol. Which had definitely worked, as he came over to ask her to get a drink with him. You sent her off with a flirty wink and a “told you so” smile, leaving you to third wheel with Cassidy and her boyfriend. You were right in the middle of the room which was getting a bit too hot, leaving little pearls of sweat on your forehead.

“I’m gonna go get some air!” you shout to Cassidy over the music, and she nods blowing you a kiss.

Tapping people on the shoulders wasn’t quite working, so you just kept repeating sorry as you shoved pressingly through the crowd. Someone had knocked into you which sent you flying into the back of somebody. Looking up, you recognise that person you bumped into.

“I am so sorry oh my god, did I hurt you?” you ask looking up at her. Turning around, Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she realised it was you. Oh god this can’t be happening, her inner voice panicked, booming throughout her entire body.

“Uhh.. yeah yeah you’re good. Don’t worry about it.” she nods looking down at you slightly, meeting your eyeline for the first time.

She didn’t tell you if she was hurt like you had asked, but in that moment you didn’t even realise. You both had each others full attention, taking in her features as she took in yours. The freckles cascaded across Ellie’s face looked like they had been individually painted in the most perfect places. The way her short auburn hair fell effortlessly on top of her broad shoulders, a single strand framing her face that you couldn’t look away from. Your eyes glanced repeatedly across her face making sure to cover every detail, careful not to miss anything.

For fucks sake she’s even prettier up close.

Pushed Ellie to say more.

“Are you good?” Ellie asks trying to keep it casual, surprised she even managed to get words out.

“Oh yeah, was just heading outside for some air.” you reply, nodding towards the way out.

“My bad sorry.” she says, trying to back up into any available space to let you pass her.

“Thank you, and sorry again for bumping into you.”

As you walk, her senses are soaked in you. Breathing through her nose, her eyes close in disbelief of your perfume. Floods her brain and settles behind her eyes, as if she was trying to bottle that moment inside her refusing to ever let it go. She watches you disappear through the crowd, licking her lips and chewing on the bottom one.

Ellie had been watching the way your eyes scanned across her face the entire time, but could also see the way your chest rose and fell so close to her.

Fuck it. she voices, walking after you.

Anxiousness was washed away and replaced with greed and desperation. She had to have more.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt 2)

((Part 1 Here))

Magic won’t fix anything.

Cinderella holds onto words. Commands. Be patient. Be kind. One big loving family. Magic won’t fix anything. Her loved ones’ words ring in her head the entirety of the following month, soaring above and diving beneath each other.

Sometimes the boy’s voice says, Be patient.

Sometimes her father says, Be kind.

Sometimes her mother says, Magic won’t fix anything.

Cinderella’s rations are in order. A week’s worth of dried foods to sustain her journey into town. It’ll take her a week on foot, three days by carriage but she doesn’t have access to a carriage. Her stepmother will be taking it. Her mind whispers, the Capitol is a week by carriage. You could—

She lets her mantras drown the thought. Cinderella is too old for fairytales.

The mice watch her from the windowsills the day of the full moon. She is mending Anastasia’s stockings by the fireside. It is the last time she’ll do so and she attempts to summon some fondness for the chore. It’s her sister who trusts her with this task, she has spent so many evenings warm and cozy with a needle and thread, she has gained some skill in mending from so many years practicing—

No fondness wells. Instead Cinderella’s eyes burn from the length of time between blinks and her heart beats so slowly that she feels like time is moving backwards. The fire crackles and Cinderella breaks the thread with her teeth, finishing the mend as sloppily as she can. With any luck, it’ll rub and give Anastasia a blister while she dances with the Prince.

She’s horrid. Did her mother see this side of her when she made her daughter promise to be kind? Cinderella starts on the heel of the next stocking.

“Cinderella.”

Stepmother is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one elegant hand presses to the rough stone, the other behind her back. Drizella peeks out from beneath her arm, hair piled up on top of her head. Anastasia hovers behind, swishing her emerald skirts from side to side.

“Yes, Stepmother?” Cinderella asks. Her voice startles her. Low and rounded and empty. She is deep inside her own head as Stepmother steps into the sunlight streaming through the small window above the preparation table. “Is there something you need assistance with?

“I have been thinking,” Stepmother says. Her chin lifts and her eyes glint when she eyes the basket of stockings. “You have…shown efforts in this household. I know the girls and I have not been as attentive as of late. Our focus has been entirely on the ball. Yet, I would not have you thinking your…help has gone unnoticed.”

“It was my idea,” Drizella blurts. She darts under her mother’s arms and pelts forward, nearly falling when she stops just short of Cinderella’s seat. She grins down at her. “This is my idea!”

“Our idea,” Anastasia says with a sniff. She steps around her mother with tiny, practiced steps. She’s using a strange accent, half Capital and half west mountains. She’s been attempting to blend into the upper nobility. “We thought of it together.”

“Yes, my girls are so kind,” Stepmother says. She reveals what she’s holding behind her back and Cinderella’s breath stills in her lungs. It’s fabric, beautiful, shimmering silver fabric. A hint of a lace sleeve peeks out from the bundle. “Here.”

Cinderella stands. This can’t be what she thinks it is. She doesn’t reach for the bundle even when Stepmother takes a step forward, hand outstretched. She swallows. “Is that a dress?”

“We had some money leftover at the seamstress,” Drizella says, leaning into Cinderella’s side. She tilts her head to rest on the taller girl’s shoulder. “Isn’t the color beautiful?”

“I didn’t want lace on my dress,” Anastasia says. She sits in Cinderella’s abandoned chair, smoothing her skirts like a court lady might. “So the seamstress said she could add it to yours. You’re welcome.”

Cinderella is staring at the dress. This can’t be real. Something in her chest trembles. Were they thinking of her at the seamstress’ studio? Her? “Why?”

“So you can attend the ball of course,” Stepmother says. She takes another step forward. “I am not so ungenerous as to ban you from going. Did you think I would?”

Yes. Cinderella’s hand trembles when she reaches for the dress. Her fingertips graze the smooth fabric. “It’s beautiful.”

“As beautiful as you are,” Stepmother says. Stepmother’s voice trembles. She blinks quickly as if holding back tears. “I have never told you so. It is not good for a girl of your…station to nurture ideas. However, I have come to regret my restraint.”

Don’t! Cinderella ignores the warning. Her heart is aching so fiercely that she can scarcely breathe. She takes the dress from Stepmother as gently as she would hold one of the mice. “You want me to come with you?”

“We’re all noble daughters,” Anastasia says primly. Her eyes are on Cinderella’s folded dress. “Wearing that, you might look the part.”

“Indeed. We leave in an hour,” Stepmother says. She holds out her hands to her daughters. “Come, girls. Let’s not get in Cinderella’s way. She must pack quickly.”

Cinderella feels light headed. She strokes the fabric and marvels at how cool and light it feels against her fingers. She doesn’t have anything else to wear to the Capital, not a stitch, but she has a dress. A dress her family gave her.

Don’t.

“But I want to see her open it,” Drizella whines. She walks backwards towards her mother. “Go on, Cinderella. Take a look. You’ll love the silhouette.”

Cinderella hardly notices Anastasia tiptoe around her. They bought her a dress. She doesn’t care what it looks like. It could be decades out of fashion. It could be completely bare. She doesn’t care. They bought her a dress and Stepmother acknowledged her hard work and—

Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t—

Cinderella unfurls the dress. Something so light she didn’t notice it in the folds of the fabric drops to the ground and rolls.

Coal.

The dress is streaked with black soot, the front wrecked by the stains. There is no lace on the dress except for the one sleeve. The hemline is unfinished and cut at an angle that can’t be salvaged. The silver fabric is ruined everywhere except for the back panel of a skirt which Stepmother had used to conceal the mess.

“Oh, dear,” Stepmother says as Cinderella stares at the wreck. The trembling in Stepmother’s voice isn’t regret. It’s glee. “My, Cinderella, your dress is a mess. You won’t be able to go to the ball after all, will you?”

“In that?” Anastasia asks. She presses a hand to her chest, once again safely behind her mother. “No, no, no, you could never go in that.”

“Maybe you can clean it,” Drizella says. She’s bouncing on her toes. “You’re good at cleaning, right, Cinderella?”

“Alas,” Stepmother says, shaking her head. She ushers the girls ahead of her. “We leave in just an hour.” She clicks her tongue. “Do hurry, won’t you, Cinderella? Of course, if you can’t save the dress, what’s the point? Perhaps you should stay here after all…entirely up to you, dear.”

Anastasia’s snorts and Drizella’s shrieks of laughter echo behind them. They’re off to pack, thrilled by their prank. Stepmother stays in the doorway. Cinderella can feel her looking. Cinderella can’t tear her gaze away from the dress. After a long moment, Stepmother speaks.

“It is not in my nature to be cruel,” Stepmother says. Her heel taps against the stone. “I see we have hurt you. Perhaps you think us unkind for this little mischief, hm?”

Cinderella’s head is bowed. She can’t bring herself to speak.

“Trust me,” Stepmtoher says, “that it is not even a tenth as cruel as it would be to have you come with us. You are beautiful, Cinderella. Does it please you to hear me admit it? I can concede that much at least in light of what you must be feeling. But my daughters have worked hard for this day. They do not deserve the cruelty of having you who have worked for nothing overshadowing their efforts just because you were born beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Cinderella tastes the word like poison on her tongue. “I—I am not—“

“Save me your false humility,” Stepmother says coldly. Her tapping heel stills. “You think yourself clever, but you are just a girl. I see how you lord yourself over my daughters. I have spent years attempting to curtail your excessive pride to no avail. In the end, you’ll see today as a favor to all parties involved. My daughters deserve this opportunity to rise above their station. You? You will have the opportunity see where you really belong.”

There is something interesting happening in Cinderella’s chest. Whereas before her heart beat so slowly it felt as if time flowed backwards, it’s the opposite now. Her heart is beating so fast and so loud that a river rushes through Cinderella at the speed of light.

“Beauty,” Cinderella says. She finally pulls her gaze from the ruined dress to meet Stepmother’s eyes. Stepmother’s mouth thins in displeasure, but Cinderella doesn’t care. “All these years over— over your perception? Your idea of what I am? Who I am?”

“Do not condescend to me,” Stepmother says.

It is not a denial.

Cinderella is a child again, perched on top of her father’s shoulders. The light is golden in her mother’s hair and she reaches for a strand that’s fallen free of her pins—

She is crouched in the garden, watching ants pull at a grounded butterfly’s wings. Sickened, she steps on them, pounds at them with her heels. Her name rings through the air as her mother hurries towards her—

Her father’s back is fading into the light as he leaves her mother in her window. Her mother’s shoulders shake and Cinderella is behind them both, clutching a doll—

She is holding her mother’s hand and it’s so cold. Her eyes are as pale and lifeless as the butterfly’s wings. Cinderella calls for her mother and the silence swallows her whole—

Cinderella is crying in the snow. She is dying or dead. Her legs are frozen, as cold as her mother’s hand, and she can’t tell if she’s even walking still. A bell rings through the trees and, half-mad, she follows it—

She lies in the warm grass of the meadow as the boy talks about stars and constellations and something beautiful unfurls in Cinderella’s chest for the first time in years—

She hopes. There is hope so bitter that it puckers her soul a little more with every letter she writes. She stands at the window and waits for her father or a letter or a sign—

You deserve more, the boy says. You’re strong, Cinderella. You have endured the freezing cold long enough. It is time to find somewhere warm—

When Cinderella is able to rip herself from the memories, Stepmother is gone. The dress is crumpled on the ground and Cinderella’s heart is loud in her ears.

“I,” Cinderella says to the empty room, “am more than beauty.”

Something in her chest cracks. A bone, maybe. A heart.

A dam.

Cinderella, not waiting for night, bursts out of the kitchen door. She lifts her skirts so that she can lengthen her strides and runs. The woods swallow her without preamble, the canopy glowing green in the afternoon light.

Be kind.

She leaps over fallen trees and dodges low branches, not caring as sticks fling up under her heels and leaves whip at her face. Her heart pounds.

Be patient.

How could she have been so blind? They were never going to love her. Stepmother saw only what she wanted to see, a part of Cinderella that is not who she is, something that’s never mattered.

One big loving family.

She poured love like blood into their mouths. She did what her parents taught her and loved with hands so open that her fingers bent backwards. For what? To be boiled down to nothing? To be pretty?

Magic won’t fix anything.

Cinderella, chest heaving, leaps into the clearing. She can feel her hair tangled behind her. Her hands are stained with soot and they leave black fingerprints on her skirts. A cut on her leg oozes. The wind whips at her in alarm. Cinderella doesn’t care.

She approaches the tree. The boy is waiting, still for once. How did he know she’d be there so soon? Why is his presence watching her like that? The rainbows of magic shiver like grass, bending away from her when she stalks through them.

“You promised me magic,” Cinderella says. Somehow she is not out of breath. She presses a hand to the oak tree’s warm bark. Her eyes spark. “Didn’t you?”

“I did,” the boy says.

“Then show me magic,” Cinderella says. “Whatever you want. Whenever you want. Just—keep your promise. Take me away from here.”

“Your wish,” the boy says, “is my command.”

The bark shifts under her fingers and Cinderella falls forward into the tree. She doesn’t have time to scream. Would she even want to? She drops into darkness so warm that her shoulders loosen as she plummets.

Out in the meadow, a single butterfly drifts across the top of the wildflowers.

——-

Thanks for reading! This is turning into a whole novella, but I’m having a blast writing it!

Part three will be posted next Friday (sorry this one was a day late! I’m traveling) and is already up on my Patreon for those who’d like to support me there :)

See you next week!

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[mcverse]

ꨄ︎ Paring: Neteyam x Avatar! F! Reader

ꨄ︎ Requested: Yes/No

ꨄ︎ Type: Part 2 out of 5 (Previous/Next)

ꨄ︎ Word count: 4.4K

ꨄ︎ Warnings: Mention of death, angst, mean Neytiri & Neteyam, Lo’ak may have a slight one sided crush on reader but this isn’t a Lo’ak x reader, injured Kiri, Tiptoeing feelings, not proof read or spell checked :) switches from present to past and vice versa cuz again it’s not proof read >.<

ꨄ︎ Side Bar: Long awaited. Enjoy! Finished this with a headache >£<

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+

“Again.” 

“No, your stance is wrong.” 

“Have you even been paying attention?”

You huff in frustration, lowering your bow to hold in one hand as you exam the other hand littered with blisters. It’s been hours since you’ve been at, trying to learn how to shot an unmoving target but it hasn’t been going well. 

Jake said that Neteyam was a great teacher, that you would learn fast with him. It’s been 3 months and you only just got off hand to hand combat two weeks ago. You’re starting to think Jake has too much fate in his son. 

“I need a break,” you whine, looking at him standing there tall and devilishly handsome with his broad shoulders and chisel chest, hidden behind crossed arms. It wasn’t a lie, you really needed one, his comments were starting to annoy you again. For your sanity, a hour apart would be good. But he wasn’t giving in. 

He shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and walks over to stand next to you, “We continue, you get done quicker.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing—and it was but you were tired, “Again.” He gestures with his head towards the target. 

Sighing deeply, you get back into position. Parting you legs, raising your bow and pulling back the string, ready to let the arrow fly free. You hear him before you feel him, smacking his teeth as he circles around you to stand behind you. 

“Your feet need to be wider than your shoulders,” he grumbles, using his foot to push yours further apart. Your breath hitch when his palm touches your upper back, “And your back needs to be straight,” with light pressure, he glides it down your spine and rests briefly on your lower back, right above your tail, “Hips need to be centered,” he slides his hand to your hip, firmly gripping it and putting it in the right position. 

His touch leaves your body for a moment, allowing you to breath correctly for a few inhales, then returns with his body closer than he’s ever been, well, if you don’t count that one spar moment... Both his hands are on you this time, one on your hip and the other on your bicep, raising it so the bow was chest level, “There.” He whispers, “This is the proper form.” 

It was hard to hear him or was it hard to focus? Either way the sound of your heart beating wildly in your chest was making it difficult. It was uncomfortable, you’ll much rather welcome deafening silence than this. Anything would be more welcoming than clammy hands and a flushed heat spreading throughout your body. 

His breath fans your neck, causing goosebumps to form and you couldn’t help but to slightly turn your head to peak at him. No surprise his face was as serious as he took this training. You wonder what he looked like when he smiled? Then that made you wonder if he ever smiled and if he didn’t, would it kill him to do it once? 

Doesn’t have to be at you. Though, lately you wouldn’t mind… but in general, he was so uptight. 

Neteyam could feel your eyes on him, with one small turn of his head, he could be staring into them. The thought alone makes him queasy, so actually doing it might make him feel worse, “Shoot the bow.” He forces himself to focus on the training, albeit he was probably a little ahead of himself when he touched you a little more intimate than necessary minutes ago. 

“Okay.” You whisper, sweeping your eyes over his face one last second before looking at the target too. You suck in sharply, exhaling in a chuckle. You will never get used to be able to breath without coughing, never. Quickly, you let the string go and time slows between you both, his hands gripping you on impulse then releases. 

A loud thud echos around the area, and you stare at the target in disbelief. It hit dead in the center, you had to be hallucinating. Dropping the bow, you turn abruptly, smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt just a little already, “Did you see that?!” your hands find placement on his shoulders as you peer up at him. 

There it was, a silver of a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was proof that he could be anything but mr. stick up his ass. 

“Good job,” he praises, face free of any stress he’s been holding, “Now you may rest.” He steps back from you and head in the direction of Hometree. 

You cheer at that, quickly picking up your bow and chasing after him. The soft ground against your feet and the soft wind grazing your skin was two of the things you loved about pandora. It filled you with joy, never really having the chance to experience it before. 

Gazing at his broad back, an overwhelming desire consumed you—to have a conversation with him, not just about your training, but to truly get to know him. Despite having train with him over the months, he ensures a distance remain, intentionally keeping it that way.

Feeling a sense of detachment and longing to understand the ways of the Na'vi, it becomes challenging when your teacher and his mother consistently give you the cold shoulder. Perhaps that is why it feels even harder for you, knowing deep down they are silently judging you, assessing your worth, and viewing you primarily as one of the sky people, failing to see your true potential.

It kills you. These are the only two individuals within the Sully family, along with a few other Na'vi in the clan, who have not yet to warm up to you. You often find solace in seeking out Jake since he relates the most and when he is not available, Kiri, as she understood you first.

The most interesting fact wasn’t even that. It was that Mo'at has gradually grown closer to you. She finds you bearable and recognizes your potential in healing after discovering you engrossed in a sky person's book one day. When you explained its contents and significance, she actually encourages you to learn healing in the ways of the Na'vi—to become adept like her people.

Since that important moment, your excitement has been growing stronger. In addition to your regular training with Neteyam, you eagerly look forward to immersing yourself in the fascinating world of Na'vi healing techniques. Understanding how Na'vi bodies work is something that truly captivates you. Sometimes you turn to Norm for guidance, even though he doesn't know everything. It makes him feel good when you include him in your learning process. 

He jokingly mentions that you could be an amazing doctor if you were back on Earth.

Just the thought of becoming a doctor fills you with immense happiness. It feels like a dream come true, something you can't quite believe is within your reach. People even started calling you "Doctor" as a playful nickname, and it always brings a blush to your cheeks and a smile to your face.

However, as you approach Hometree, your spirits momentarily dampen. You witness Neteyam walk away quickly, leaving behind a lingering sense of sadness. It hurts to think that he wants to distance himself from you immediately. You weren’t a disease, at least not anymore. And even if you were, you still had feelings. 

Before you have the chance to dwell on these emotions, you jolt when someone playfully jumps on your back, nearly causing you to lose your balance. The familiar laughter that follows is contagious, and you instantly recognize the source: Kiri. You return her excitement, "Kiri, you nearly knocked me off my feet," you tease, gently shrugging her off to face her directly.

"Sorry, doc. I haven't seen you since this morning," she apologizes, linking her arms with yours in a comforting gesture. "I think you called it separation anxiety before."

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as she gives you a playful shove before pulling you closer. "You're not supposed to agree!" she pouts, her eyes filled with mock disappointment. You can't help but laugh at her adorable expression. "But how was the training?"

Her question sparks excitement within you, and your face lights up with joy. "I actually think I've discovered a hidden talent for archery. It seems I'm more skilled with a bow than in hand-to-hand combat," you share enthusiastically. As she guides you towards her home, a mix of anticipation and unease settles in your stomach. You know that entering her family's hut means facing her mother, and your relationship has always been strained. "Wait, Kiri," you try to pull away, but her unexpected strength surprises you, despite her smaller frame.

"That was quick. So, does that means you will learn to hunt now?" she asks, holding the flap of the hut open and leading you inside. As you step in, your eyes meet Neytiri's, who sits at the center of the hut, skillfully folding meat into leaves. She acknowledges Kiri's presence with a nod, her gaze briefly shifting towards you, filled with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. Neytiri questions Kiri about the meaning behind her statement as she continues with her task.

"Doc over here has shown great skill with the bow. It looks like Neteyam and her will hunting next," Kiri proudly announces your progress, a sense of pride evident in her voice as if you were her own kin. "No surprise!" she adds, unable to contain her delight.

Neytiri lets out a dismissive scoff, her face revealing a lack of amusement. She averts her gaze, refusing to acknowledge your achievements. "She's no doctor. She's not Na'vi. Her skill is nothing more than luck," she grumbles, returning her focus to the meticulous task of folding meat, seemingly unimpressed.

You tighten your hold on Kiri, your eyes locking in a silent plea for her to leave, but she remains rooted in place, visibly displeased by her mother's words. "She is a doctor. She possesses knowledge and skill like one, and if you took the time to know her instead of judging her, you would see it too." Kiri's voice carries a rare heat, her glare burning with determination. "Why can't you learn to accept her, just like you did with Dad?"

After Kiri expresses her frustration, she pulls you away from the hut, leading you back in the direction of the lab. It before the transfer, you still spend your days at the lab, as your connection with the native Na'vi remains unchanged. The realization saddens you deeply. Eywa has granted you a remarkable opportunity—a chance to immerse yourself in the ways of the Na'vi. 

However, their resistance and unwillingness to embrace you weigh heavily on your heart. It doesn't matter that Eywa herself played a role in your presence here; the history of conflict between the sky people and the Na'vi still lingers with animosity towards the sky people that taints their perception.

“I’m sorry bout her…” Kiri breaks the silence you didn’t know blanketed you both, apologizing again on her mother behalf, which she does more often unfortunately. She’s ahead of you by a few feet, back turnt so you can’t see her expression but her ears flat against her head told you want you needed. She felt bad, possibly for putting you in that position again or could be something else, “I—“

You interrupt her, firmly holding her hand in yours. "I understand, Kiri," you respond, the lab coming into view. However, what truly matters to you in this moment is acknowledging your best friend's feelings. "I hate to admit that I've grown accustomed to it, but I'm grateful to have you looking out for me."

She releases your hand and playfully pushes you. "As if that's even in question. Now come on, I want to say hi to Mom," she urges, hastening towards the lab door. You both wait for a moment as Norm and Max navigate their way inside before entering. Kiri goes straight to Grace, while you settle down at one of the large computers, clicking on a simulator application.

Throughout the years, Max had been kind enough to develop a simulator of sorts, primarily for medical purposes. It allows you to practice and train, given that you can't directly attend to humans or the Na'vi. Some individuals, especially pregnant Na'vi whose anxiety is heightened due to hormonal changes, still maintain a level of caution around you, even when you're in the presence of Mo'at.

You played through 3 simulations successfully and as you were on your 4th, a voice behind you spoke, “That’s gross.” Instantly you recognized the voice to be Spider, and where spider was, Lo’ak was too. 

Shaking your head, you pause the pregnancy birth simulator to spin around, looking at him tauntingly, “Then you can relate.” smiling, you get up from the chair, “except birth is beautiful and you’re just gross, now that I think bout it.” 

Spider blinks before opening his mouth, about to reply but Lo’ak stops him, patting his chest with smirk on his lips, “Take the L, bro. You won’t win.” Spider slumps his shoulders at his comment, frowning as he looks off with a defeated expression.

You humph at Spider, then look at Lo’ak, “What trouble are you getting into today?” You ask, already knowing how Lo’ak and Spider worked since before you got your avatar. The could definitely get into it by themselves but the more the merry was much more fun. Your hunch was correct when a wicked smile spreads across his face, looking at you with mischief. 

“You haven’t had the chance to really explore pandora life yet,” he starts, only to be cut off by a laughing Spider, grin matching Lo’ak’s,

“You saw only a small portion of pandora when you transferred, we thought you might want to come along to watch some animals for the first time?” He adds, waiting for your reply, briefly looking off to the side when Kiri comes along. 

She strides over to you, leaning back onti the table of the computer and frowns with a shake of her head, “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” she explains to them, looking at you, “This is dangerous.” 

And you considered her words. You did. But only shortly. Spider and Lo’ak were right. You’ve been so busy with training with both Mo’at and Neteyam that you neglected actually exploring pandora when you now could. So it may be dangerous, but it was a chance you needed to take before being thrown back into more teachings. 

“Okay. I’ll be down.” You turn back to the computer to shut it off and jump happily from your seat. Giving Kiri a an amused smile, you decide to ease her concerns. A worried expression doesn’t look good on her, “You can come along, yknow? To look out for me.” 

Kiri scoffs off to the side with an eye roll, pushing herself off the table, “As if I was going to let you go by yourself to begin with.” She gestures with her head to Lo’ak, “Go on, lead the way.” 

The trek to where ever they were leading you was amazing. Being stuck inside almost all your life have been nothing compared to what was outside all this time. Pandora was beautiful, you kept giving distracted and sidetracked, wanting to play with the fauna on the way. Like a toddler getting to explore for the first time , you eyes blown wide in adoration. You wanted to see everything! 

“Keep up, [Name],” Lo’ak reminds you, a good five meters away, “We’re almost there!”

“Okay! I’m coming.” You get up from your crouch position, jogging over to Kiri, who is waiting for you. Giving her a smile, you grab her outreached hand and let her drag you to where the others have finally stopped, “Are we there?” You ask, letting go of Kiri's hand and brushing past Lo’ak's large frame to enter a clearing.

“Not yet,” Lo’ak grumbles, walking over to you and pointing to a large tree, “We have to start climbing now. The animal we’re going to see is dangerous. High ground is safe.” He stalks towards the tree, Spider in tow.

You don’t budge from your spot as you eye the intimidating tree, chewing on the inside of your cheek. There is only one time you have had to climb a tree, and that was when you first transferred. 

It’s safe to say it didn’t end well. You didn’t break anything, but the fall was deep and you’ve been dreading having to do it again. Especially with the knowledge that it is common among forest Na’vi, who do it almost daily.

Kiri sees your dazed expression and she can’t help but chuckle to herself before clapping in your face, successfully grabbing your attention, “Baby steps, you got this.” She walks away, easily climbing the tree. 

You feel like you're going to regret this as you watch her move gracefully, but you had brace yourself mentally when you approach the tree. Looking up it at the others, even Spider as they all look down at you in wait. 

Quickly you inhale sharply and exhale slowly more slowly to calm your nerves and soon start to climb, struggling due to the thick width of the tree. But by Eywa, you make it to where the others are, and they smile at you proudly. Your face flushes at the attention, "Would you guys cut it out!"

The trio says nothing, only rolling their eyes before jumping to another tree branch with such speed and grace that you momentarily forget you're now part of their world as you stumble to keep balance. You know better than to look down, as you're still getting used to your new body and don't want to experience the same vertigo you felt the last time.

To your surprise, you managed to keep pace with the agile trio, gradually finding your rhythm and becoming more at ease with your movements. It was an exhilarating experience to effortlessly match their steps and mimic their fluid motions.

Amazement washed over you as you reveled in your newfound abilities. The ease with which you moved and the unhindered breaths you took left you in awe. Moving through the environment felt natural and effortless, as if you were born to be part of this world. It was a sensation that surpassed any dream you could have imagined, a reality more enchanting than your wildest fantasies.

Again, you find yourself in a precarious situation as the three of them come to a sudden halt just as you hop onto the branch they're perched on. Before you can utter a word, Lo'ak silences you with a gentle press of his finger against his lips. He motions for you to draw nearer, and you cautiously comply. 

As you stand beside him, he crouches down low, his hand pointing downwards. Your breath catches in your throat as you contemplate the daunting task of looking down. However, you muster up the courage, knowing that if you were to slip and fall, they would make an effort to catch you.

You gaze in awe at the majestic Hammerhead Titanothere, a name coined by the sky people to describe these magnificent creatures. Everything in Pandora seemed to be on a grand scale, and it fascinated you. While you had some understanding of this before your transfer, experiencing it firsthand as an avatar made it even more astonishing.

Eager to get a closer look, you inch your way along a slender branch, oblivious to its slight bend under your weight. "They're so adorable!" you exclaim, your voice filled with admiration as you watch the playful antics of the baby Titanothere.

Suddenly, Spider appears behind you, and a loud snap reverberates through the area, sending shivers down your spine. Within seconds, Spider is calling out your name, but it's Lo'ak who acts swiftly, grasping your arm and knocking Kiri off balance, forcing her to cling desperately to the branch for dear life.

"Kiri!" you cry out, realizing that the attention of the Titanothere has now shifted to the four of you. Their heads lower menacingly, ready to charge. "Pull me up! Pull me up!" you plead, reaching out to grab Lo'ak with your other arm. Your priority is to reach Kiri. Although Spider is helping, the weight difference between him and Kiri makes it impossible for him to lift her to safety alone.

Finally, with Lo'ak's assistance, you regain your balance on the branch. Without wasting a moment, all of you rush towards Kiri just as the Titanothere relentlessly ram into the tree. "Shit!" Spider curses, clutching your shirt with one hand while trying to support Kiri with the other.

Kiri winces in pain as she's yanked up, her leg scraping against the rough surface in the process. Holding onto her tightly, the three of you scramble down to the base of the tree, seeking shelter from the thunderous blows reverberating through the air.

Spider's face contorts with fear as he points out the deep gash on Kiri's calf. Panic surges within you as you realize the severity of her injury.

"Kiri's hurt!" Spider exclaims, his voice trembling with concern.

Your mind races, desperately searching for a solution. "We need to get back to highcamp," you say, your voice laced with urgency. "Maybe if we wait there, the Titanothere will lose interest in us." You glance at Lo'ak, seeking his agreement. He clings to the tree, his expression cautious. 

"I've never been the target of a Titanothere before," Lo'ak whispers, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos. "Let try it…" Another resounding impact shakes the ground, emphasizing the imminent danger that surrounds you.

After what feels like an eternity, the relentless assault of the Titanothere subsides. The massive creatures gradually retreat, their thunderous footsteps fading into the distance. Exhausted and relieved, you and your companions make your way back to highcamp, treading carefully through the dense foliage.

Entering the familiar hut, a wave of unease washes over you as you find Neytiri, Jake, and Neteyam gathered inside. Their expressions reveal deep concern as they take in the sight of Kiri's injured leg.

Jake's voice carries a mix of worry and authority as he demands an explanation, his arms enveloping Kiri gently as he eases her down onto a comfortable mat. His eyes search for answers, and he turns to Lo'ak, his gaze filled with expectation. "Tell me what happened," he implores, his tone urgent.

Lo'ak takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility, and proceeds to recount the events. "We thought it would be a good idea to show [Name] a Titanothere from a safe distance," he explains, briefly glancing at Neteyam, who shoots him a disapproving look, "[Name] lost her footing, and I rushed to help. Then Kiri slipped and got her injury while we were trying to help her."

Neytiri, having heard enough, rises from attending to Kiri's wound. Her gaze locks onto you, her expression of anger as she confronts you with a sharp hiss, baring her teeth threateningly, "So, this is your doing?" she accuses, her voice filled with frustration.

"Neytiri!" Jake's feeble attempt to diffuse the tension only adds to the chaos, as her fury distorts her gestures into confused jabs.

"No! A demon like you has no place near our children! It was a mistake to trust you!" Neytiri inches closer, her piercing gaze penetrating your very being. Lo'ak steps forward, assuming a defensive stance, ready to shield you from the torrent of her wrath.

"But that's not true!" Lo'ak's voice rings out with defiance, his unwavering loyalty burning bright, while you stand there, your heart pounding in your chest, aching with a mixture of guilt and despair. It feels as if the fragile bond your tried to build is quickly crumbling into irreparable pieces, and the weight of it all threatens to consume you.

"What were you thinking?!" Neteyam's voice reverberates through the tense silence as he took a bold step forward, his eyes fixed on you. The usually calm and composed warrior now leaks of an intensity that caught everyone off guard.

Stunned and at a loss for words, you stood frozen in place, your heart sinking with each passing moment. How did the situation escalate to this point? It felt as if the entire weight of Pandora's disapproval was bearing down on you, even though you were not the originator of the ill-fated idea.

Neteyam's voice carried a hint of accusation as he continues, his words laced with a mixture of anger and concern, "You're untrained. Your recklessness could have gotten her killed—all of them killed!"

Lo'ak interjects, cutting off Neteyam before he could say more, “She could have been killed too! Be thankful that neither of them are.” 

Neytiri scoffs dismissively, rolling her eyes at her son's defense, "She is not part of our family. Her life holds no significance to us."

Gasps are heard all around the room, faces morphing into expressions of anger and sadness, while yours is filled with mortification at the notion of your insignificance. You didn’t matter to them. The realization that you are deemed disposable by those you hoped to gain acceptance from sends a wave of terror coursing through your veins, shattering any remaining illusions of belonging.

Lo'ak and Kiri immediately protest against their mother's callous statement. Their impassioned words, however, fall on deaf ears thanks to Neytiri's indifference. The ringing in your ears grows louder, pulsating with the ache in your chest.

Spider's firm grasp anchors you, pulling you back from the tumultuous emotions swirling around the hut. His expression reflects the gravity of the situation, mirroring the somber atmosphere that hangs heavy in the air. In that moment, you find solace in his presence, yearning to seek refuge within his small, comforting frame, away from the chaos that surrounds you.

Jake's voice breaks through the tension, "Alright, that's enough. Spider, [Name], why don't you both head back to base? I'll come visit you later." His furrowed brow reflects his dissatisfaction with the current situation, yet he takes the lead in guiding you out of the hut, despite your weakened state.

As you slowly retreat, Kiri's voice pierces the air, carrying a palpable sense of worry and remorse, "[Name], Spider," she calls out, her eyes fixed upon your diminishing figures, her voice a whispered plea for understanding and reconciliation.

Lo'ak emits a low growl from deep within his chest, his gaze locked on your form. Frustration and anger course through him, fueling his resolve to challenge the injustice of the moment. He lets out a a resounding declaration when you both disappear behind the hut flap, "This is bullshit."

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[megalony]

Worst Nightmare

It's taken me a lot longer than it should, but this is finally a Jonah Hauer-King imagine. It's partly based on a request so I hope everyone likes it, comments are always amazing on my Jonah fics, enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

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Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is head over heels for her brother's best friend, Jonah. Who happens to be a big flirt with her. And when a pool party goes wrong, he's there to save the day, more specifically, save her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't know about this," (Y/n) rubbed her hands up and down her arms that were crossed over her chest as if for protection.

This didn't feel like such a good idea now that they were here. She wanted to go home. She wanted to turn around and head back and just leave her brother here, this was more his scene than hers anyway.

But it was as if he could sense the unease rattling through her because he slung his arm around her shoulders, reeled her into his side like he was pulling her under his wing, and smiled. Tyler wasn't letting her leave that easily, she had been invited here too and there was no reason for her to turn and leave before they had even gone inside. He wasn't letting his little sister chicken out of having a good time today.

"Come on, you'll have fun I'll make sure of it." Tyler didn't give her room to argue, he pulled her along and into the house ahead of them.

One of his friends was throwing a pool party since the day was blistering hot and the sky was as blue as the ocean it reflected. (Y/n) didn't know many of her brother's friends very well but they knew of her and always extended an invitation her way. It felt rude not to come along until she was standing on the doorstep, regretting every decision she ever made.

She let herself shrink into Tyler's side as they passed through the house towards the kitchen where most of the noise and hustle was coming from.

"Alright, I will get us something safe to drink, you wait here."

He was gone before (Y/n) could plead to tag along with him like his little shadow that all his friends knew her to be since she had been young. It was hard to get (Y/n) to do stuff on her own so Tyler always went along with her. He never used to enjoy her company until she grew up a bit more and then they started to get along much better. Now, he actually invited her out with him and enjoyed tagging along with her when she needed some support.

(Y/n) kept her nails punctured into her upper arms and her elbows pushed down into her stomach to try and relieve some of the nervous tension that started to rattle through her.

This was a bad idea. This was a-

"I was hoping you'd be here," The sultry voice that murmured into her ear made a shiver course down (Y/n)'s spine right to her toes.

She could feel goosebumps flooding over her skin when a tall, lean chest cosied up to her back and a pair of arms planted down on the counter in front of her, caging her in. She took a second to try and take a deep breath before moving. Her eyes trailed along the bare arms caged around her, following the rigid, tensed muscles and the veins popping to the surface from the heat.

Her body was slow and cautious when she turned in his arms until her back was resting uncomfortably against the counter and her eyes had something new to stare at.

His chest filled her view for a few seconds until she could find the courage to trail her gaze up further and look into those dark green eyes that haunted her in her sleep.

He looked different.

It wasn't just because all he was wearing was a pair of shorts; Jonah had been to (Y/n)'s home so many times growing up that she had seen him running round in just his pants and socks more times than she would care to admit. He looked older today. (Y/n) had seen him just a few weeks ago and she was always talking to him on the phone, they had talked only three days ago. But hearing his voice and actually seeing him were two completely different things.

He'd had his hair cut, his curls were trimmed down to short strands that were just starting to crimp up and he was starting to grow a beard. (Y/n) was so used to his boyish looks that seeing him look more his age was a startling difference. But it was something that made her chest flutter and she knew why.

"Why, have you missed me?" She could barely speak when he was this close and when he grinned and leaned closer, (Y/n) knew there was a high chance she might pass out.

"I've missed that pretty face, three weeks is a long time, honey." With his height, Jonah had to flex his arms and lean down so he was almost level with her eyes that could barely keep focus on him. He smiled curiously, watching her gaze flick from his head, down to his chin and then loop over his chest before she tried to meet his gaze again.

He knew she had a thing for the chain around his neck.

"Tyler brought me along, he didn't say you would be here,"

(Y/n) wouldn't have put up a fight if she knew Jonah was going to be here. She would go anywhere her brother asked if he told her his best friend would also be there.

Jonah was a flirt. He wasn't exactly a tease with her, at least not until recently, but he was always trying out his pick up lines on her or blowing her kisses or calling her pet names. He used to do it to wind Tyler up. Tyler didn't like his friends 'messing' with his little sister and it always annoyed him when Jonah gave (Y/n) attention and teased her.

Something inside (Y/n) told her that Jonah was doing it for her more than to wind up her brother, that deep down, he actually liked her the way she had fallen so hard and fast for him.

(Y/n) loved everything about Jonah, from his endearing personality to his flirtatious remarks and his winning smile. She loved the sound of his voice and the songs he let her listen to before anyone else. She loved the way he stuck up for his friends, and for her, and how he would do absolutely anything to make her smile.

"I turned up last minute… figured if Tyler was here, he'd bring you and then I'd get to see my best girl."

"Best girl, but not your only girl?" She didn't know what made her bold enough to try and taunt him back but the moment she did, Jonah's smile turned into a smirk.

She audibly gasped when his hands moved from the counter to grab her hips suddenly and tightly. He took two steps closer so their chests were merged together and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. Oh God, what was he doing to her? He knew what effect he had on her, he had to.

"You're the only one for me,"

His lips were hot and wet against her forehead and his fingers squeezed her hips through her shorts before his touch was gone and he added two feet of space between them. (Y/n) thought for a moment that he was playing a game with her, that he was teasing or taunting her again, but she realised he moved because Tyler was coming back.

"Mate, you made it! Brilliant," Tyler handed a glass of juice over to (Y/n) and thankfully didn't notice the slight shake in her system.

(Y/n) had never acted on her feelings for Jonah or mentioned them to him because she didn't know how Tyler would react. It wouldn't be fair for her to tell Jonah in case he didn't feel the same or they tried to date and it didn't work. It would ruin his friendship with Tyler and make things awkward and that wasn't fair.

And Jonah wouldn't do or say anything to (Y/n) yet, not until he had talked to Tyler because his best friend had warned him away from his little sister, just like he had everyone else. But Tyler never thought Jonah saw something more to (Y/n), he thought Jonah saw her as a sibling, but he saw her as something much different, much more important.

"Let's head out into the sunshine,"

(Y/n) let her brother lead them through the sea of people and towards the open patio doors but she tilted her head back when she felt a hand on her hip. All Jonah did was raise a brow and smile before his eyes darted back to look in front of them.

He was playing with fire.

Both Jonah's hands found themselves on (Y/n)'s hips and he swerved her left and right, helping her dodge people passing them by. And when they came to a stop near some chairs, he squeezed her hips before his touch was gone and he moved round to sit with Tyler.

(Y/n) sat down on one of the plastic chairs and shuffled it a bit further back, away from the water.

She kept her eyes on Jonah for a while as he sat and grabbed a bottle of beer. He spread his legs out and leaned his elbows on his knees, hunching over with his hands between his parted legs and something about his look made him seem so butch and tense and it was thrilling.

When the conversation shifted and (Y/n) zoned out of it, she looked down at what she was wearing and slung her bag from her shoulder. She had worn her swimsuit for a reason; that reason being to get a tan in the sun.

(Y/n) didn't swim, not since an incident at the beach when she was little, on holiday with Tyler and their parents. Water didn't agree with (Y/n) anymore and even a bath made her feel uneasy. The most she would do was sit on the edge of the pool and dangle her legs in the water, that was as close as (Y/n) got. But she wanted to look the part and try to fit in with everyone else who was walking around in their trunks and bathing suits.

She stood up from the chair and slowly pulled up her thin cotton shirt and placed it down on the floor beneath the chair next to her bag. She shimmied her shorts down her legs and kicked them beneath the chair but when she raised her head, she caught someone staring.

The look in Jonah's eyes was almost dark and he had stopped talking mid-sentence, tightening his hand around his beer bottle when he noticed what (Y/n) was doing.

His eyes followed her hands that pulled at her bra so it covered her cleavage a bit better. The two piece was baby blue and white stripes in vertical lines and it was small enough to show Jonah a lot more of her skin than he was used to.

He looked back in front of him at Tyler but his eyes couldn’t help but look back over at (Y/n) until he couldn’t bring it in himself to look away from her when her attire started to distract him. The swimsuit (Y/n) was wearing showed off her curves as well as her legs and the way her arms were hugging her frame showed she was shy but that only made his heart beat faster. She looked so delicate, so lovely like that.

She made the music and all the voices drown out into background static and drew in his full attention.

And there was something about the way she pulled a book out from her bag that made him grin and chuckle to himself. Of course she would want to sunbathe with a book. She wouldn't want to sit and engage everyone else in conversation or listen or dance along with the music that was blasting out. As long as the boys were close by, (Y/n) would be fine with her book in hand.

"You look lovely, by the way."

Lifting her eyes, (Y/n) let her gaze settle on Jonah who was suddenly sat in the seat next to her which he shuffled closer until their bare knees bumped together.

"Thank you," She kept her thumb pinned on her page while her other hand moved to brush her hair behind her ear. "You look handsome yourself,"

"Hm, do I indeed? So, I was thinking-"

His hand reached out to hold her knee and (Y/n) let herself sit up a bit straighter as if it would calm down her furious heart and help her concentrate. What was he pondering? What was he about to ask her? If the look in his eyes and the way he was biting down on his lower lip was anything to go by, (Y/n) guessed it would be something good.

“Jonah, come on we’re gonna do a drinks challenge then we can jump in the pool.” Tyler ticked his head to the side and waved his hand towards his friend, begging him to come and join them. (Y/n) hadn't even realised her brother had moved back near the patio until his voice broke her from her thoughts.

"I guess the thought will wait a while, honey." His eyes darted to check Tyler wasn't looking before he leaned over and pecked (Y/n)'s temple. No one else would pay any attention to the little token of affection but Tyler might. It was a good job he wasn't looking.

(Y/n) let her eyes follow Jonah for a while and she put her book down to watch him and three other guys- including Tyler- mess around with a ping pong challenge that involved downing some shots. They were going to be drunk by the end of the afternoon and (Y/n) was going to be responsible for getting her brother back home in one piece, and probably Jonah too.

When Jonah downed his first shot and sent a wink in her direction, (Y/n) finally let her gaze fall back to her book, although she wasn't in the mood for reading. All she wanted to do was think and find out what Jonah had been ready to ask her. She wanted to know what his thought had been about.

One chapter was all (Y/n) could manage to consume before she was rereading the same line over and over again and it burned into her mind making her furious. She should be able to read a book that captured her attention, but one guy was stealing her mind away from her and consuming every thought she had.

She put the book back in her bag and leaned forward in her chair, wondering what to do with herself.

Maybe it would be worth a trip into the kitchen to see what other drinks they had available here. The juice Tyler had picked was crap and diluted, and (Y/n) would be able to walk past the guys, specifically Jonah, to get to the kitchen.

She kicked off her shoes and padded around the edge of the vast pool that was frightening even to look at. There was no shallow end, just endless depths on either side verging from left to right. It was a death trap to her.

Jonah's eyes were on her the moment she moved from her chair and she could feel his gaze clinging to her every move. (Y/n) tried not to let her breathing run away without her and control the way her heart was thudding harshly in her chest the closer she got to the ping pong table. But she barely got close to Jonah before he was reaching out for her.

She thought he was going to take her hand or ruffle her hair or do some little trick to wind her up and then smile at her with that coy grin that let him get away with murder. (Y/n) wasn't expecting Jonah's arm to reel around her waist and tug her into his chest. He pulled her back into his chest and leaned his chin over her shoulder while she turned to jelly in his hands, just waiting for him to move and mould her however he wanted.

"Come here, give me some good luck."

His left arm stayed curved around her bare waist and (Y/n) swallowed down a groan when his fingertips started to graze up and down her side, tickling her. While his right hand moved to grab the ping pong ball which he bounced expertly into the cup on the opposite end of the table.

A round of cheering exploded from the people gathered round but all (Y/n) could hear was Jonah's deep chuckle in her ear and the feel of his lips hovering over her skin.

"Thank you," He murmured whilst pressing a delicate peck to the side of her head before he let her go.

She didn't want to move but it would be rude to try and stay wrapped up in his arms when people were watching and her brother was close by downing his drink. So (Y/n) nodded silently and smiled up at him before she ventured into the kitchen on wobbling legs.

What was he doing to her?

She could feel his eyes on her the moment she walked back out onto the patio with a different drink in hand, still non-alcoholic as she was driving them home later. (Y/n) smiled to herself when Jonah's gaze lingered on her and she knew if her brother wasn't looking, Jonah would have reached out towards her to touch her somewhere, somehow.

She was only a few feet away from her chair when a voice stopped her in her tracks and brought her out of her thoughts.

"Fancy a dip?"

It was Jamie, one of the guys Tyler was friends with. (Y/n) didn't know him very well but she knew enough to know that Jonah didn't like him and if he didn't like Jamie, (Y/n) was going to be very wary of him. Jonah liked everybody, he was a kind soul, a warm-hearted person that people were always magnetised to. It took a lot for Jonah to dislike someone so anyone he didn't get along with, (Y/n) took note and stayed cautious.

When he pointed to the pool behind her, (Y/n) tried to smile and shook her head. No way was she going in there.

"I'm good, thanks,"

"Waiting for J to join you?" He motioned over towards Jonah and the rest of the guys who were still messing around and joking loud enough for (Y/n) to hear their cackles of laughter. It didn't matter if Jonah was in the pool or not, she wouldn't join them. She might sit on the edge and let her legs fall in the water if Jonah beckoned her over, but that was it.

"I don't wanna swim yet," (Y/n) kept her arms close to her chest, obscuring his scrutinising gaze over her while she tried to walk past him.

"Oh come on, just a little dip with me? I'm not that bad, am I?"

A gasp flew past her lips when his hands moved out to grab her hips and he pulled her closer until the cup in her hand spilled over them both and ice cold coke fizzed and stuck to both their chests. (Y/n) dropped the cup but the plastic didn't make much of an echo against the floor with the music booming around the garden. And nobody was paying enough attention to see that she was panicked and fighting him to get off her.

His fingertips were calloused and grabby on her hips and he held her far too tight considering he barely knew her more than to just say hello to in passing. And (Y/n) could smell the beer on his breath when he leaned closer like he was either going to tell her a secret or kiss her, both of which were unappealing.

"Get off-"

"Join me for a little paddle, won't you?"

His fingertips were bruising her sides and his arms were strong, yanking her back into him when she fought to get him off. The only thing (Y/n) could think to say was 'fuck off' which she tried to shout loud enough for someone, anyone, to hear and help get the message through to Jamie. She wanted help.

Frowning, Jonah set down the drink in his hand and snapped his head to look out across the garden. He knew that distant voice, he knew that pitch and the worry that came along with it.

His skin started to pale and his body tensed when he narrowed his eyes and realised who was stood with (Y/n)- or rather grabbing at (Y/n).

Who did Jamie think he was to start grabbing her like that? What the Hell was he doing? He got far too bold when he'd had even just one drink and Jonah did not like the way he acted around any of his girl friends and Jonah hated his attitude. He was smug and rude and careless and an overall idiot, but it made Jonah's blood boil to see him anywhere near (Y/n); his girl.

"Jamie back off!" His voice boomed across the garden and caused all eyes to divert his way instead of over at (Y/n) where the problem was.

Jonah slammed his bottle down on the table so hard the plastic cups toppled and shook but he paid them no mind. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he stormed around the table, aiming for (Y/n) but he couldn't get close enough in time. His heart stopped in his chest when he watched Jamie smirk in such a cruel, evil way with malicious intent hiding behind his eyes.

He pushed her.

His hands which had previously been grabbing at her hips and very close to pulling at her bikini switched to clench around her upper arms before he gave (Y/n) a very harsh, violent shove. He put all of his weight into his arms and forced her back so hard and fast that she had no time to do anything but scream before the water engulfed her.

"Fuck!" Jonah’s feet skidded against the tiles like the rubber screeching on a tyre as he pushed people out the way so he could bolt closer to the pool. His desperate shouts reached (Y/n)'s mind before the water was pumping through her ears and the gurgling chlorine and bubbles overwhelmed every one of her senses.

She couldn't open her eyes. The moment her feet left the floor and her body started to tilt, (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed as fast as she could and coiled her arms to her chest like she was about to fall into a coffin. Her eyes burned from the chlorine, it felt like she had cried all of her tears into the pool and her eyes were sore and broken even though they were closed as tightly as possible.

The water clawed its way up her nose and burned the back of her throat and the few bubbles that managed to get into her lungs felt like stones setting in her body. It was invading her at every possible angle, weighing her down and pulling at her like arms wrapping around her, dragging her down towards the bottom of the pool. Water loved her, it always had and it loved her so much it wanted to keep her in its depths forever.

As if a switch had gone off in her mind, (Y/n) kicked her legs out wildly and started to flap her arms like a bird in the sky. It was like trying to drive a submarine, her body wasn't going the way she wanted it to because she didn't know what she was doing. She wanted to go up but the water was saying no.

She can't swim. She can't swim.

That was the only thought Jonah could process in his mind before his arms stretched out and he dived into the pool two seconds after her.

The stark cold water shocked his system and sent his limbs shaking as his lungs froze and tensed at the sudden change in temperature. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the chlorine and to see anything but a haze of baby blue and streaks of white. But once his eyes adjusted, he was frantic. Jonah’s arms waded through the water as his knees came up to his stomach and his eyes scanned round for (Y/n).

When his eyes landed on her he rolled forward like he was doing a flip in the water before he propelled himself down just a few more feet before he reached her. His hands hastily grabbed at her forearms that he was sure had been moving when he dived in but now they were still and motionless. He wanted to shake her but he didn't have the time.

He curved himself closer until he was pressed up behind her and he could hook his arm securely around her waist, keeping her pinned behind his elbow so they were merged together.

Once he broke through the surface of the water, Jonah tilted backwards and pulled (Y/n) up to keep her above the surface. He shook his head to rid the water from his hair, eyes and ears before his eyes darted around the pool. There was a crowd, the exact opposite of what he wanted and needed right now and he noticed the music was still playing, at least a handful of people didn't realise there was a situation going on here.

It took a second for Jonah to reach the edge of the pool and when he did, he clamped his left elbow down on the side and pushed his legs up to lift him and (Y/n) higher. He bent his wrist at an odd angle to push (Y/n) up enough to shuffle her onto the ground so he could wrench himself up and crawl on his knees to be beside her again.

Water surrounded them in a puddle that slowly started leaking back into the pool and every inch of him was cascading with water like he was a block of ice melting in the midday sun.

"(Y/n)? Come on honey. Shit!"

Jonah rubbed his thumb over (Y/n)’s cheek and nudged her chin before he growled like an animal. He shifted her so she was lying on her side facing away from him and firmly but rather roughly hit the base of his hand between her shoulder blades. Trying to force the water up and out of her lungs because it was clear she had inhaled it. She wasn’t used to being under the water and she couldn’t hold her breath for that long either.

"You gotta breathe now honey," He moved her head so her chin was tilted down onto her chest so when she did cough up the water, she didn’t swallow or choke on it again. After a quick circular rubbing motion on her back, he went back to hitting her back to try and get her breathing just as he heard Tyler begin to yell.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

A sigh of utter relief left his lips when the water started to push and splutter down (Y/n)'s lips and chin, causing Jonah to hang his head and breathe deep. His hands planted down on the concrete either side of her head and he hovered over her, not caring about the droplets of water falling down onto her. All he cared about was that she was breathing.

"Honey… hey, hey calm down. Breathe for me, deep breath in… and out, like me."

He tried to labour and slow his breaths so she could start to copy him, her chest was repeatedly convulsing and quaking as she couldn’t take in a proper breath. And he leaned his weight onto his right hand so his left hand could rub slow circles on her back to make sure her lungs were starting up properly again.

“There we go.” Jonah whispered quietly with a relieved smile on his wet lips. He slowly and gently took (Y/n)’s weight and helped her to sit up before he sat back on his heels and wiped the water off his face.

A burst of violent trembling set in (Y/n)'s body and she barely managed to move her arms out in front of her. She didn't think, she couldn't think, she couldn't do anything other than grab at Jonah's arm that had been resting on his lap. She coiled his arm into her chest and let her weight fall forward until she was leaning against his chest.

The combination of his burning skin mixed with the cold water dripping off him was an enticing mix that had (Y/n) shivering for a whole other reason. She nuzzled her face into his chest and dug her fingertips into his bicep as she felt his other arm curve around her back.

He pulled her closer and tilted his head down to press his damp lips against her wet hair that now smelt of chlorine.

"Why was she in the pool?" Tyler hit his hand out against Jonah's shoulder to gain his attention as he leaned forward on his knees, looking between his best friend and his sister. He had gone inside for two minutes to get a drink and came back outside to shouting and to find his sister had been at the bottom of the pool when she couldn't even swim.

(Y/n) could feel how her brother's question lit a spark inside Jonah, as if he had forgotten all about why she was in the pool. Too focused on diving in after her and getting her back out to remember why she was there in the first place.

"Jonah-"

She couldn't say anything and her hands that were tightly clamped down on his bicep didn't do anything to stop him from ripping away from her. His hand squeezed her hip and he pressed a rush kiss to her temple before he stood up and turned towards the cause of all of this.

Jamie. Within seconds, Jonah had his fingers dug into Jamie's shoulders and ran him backwards until he was jammed up into the fence. Splinters poked into his back and his feet barely managed to stay on the floor with the force Jonah knocked him back with and he barely had time to groan.

"You bastard," Jonah sneered the words at him and rammed him into the fence again to get his full attention. "Why would you do that to her, hm? Who gave you permission to touch her like that or shove her into the fucking pool because I sure as Hell didn't."

"It was a joke-"

"I'm not laughing. Or did you miss the part where I had to stop her from drowning?"

Jonah had never liked Jamie's sense of humour or his cynical ways and this just proved he had been right about him all along. No way was Jonah letting Jamie anywhere near (Y/n) after this little stunt. He didn't know where Jamie got the nerve or the impression that he could grab any girl he wanted and try to hurt her and throwing her in the pool meant he deserved some kind of punishment.

"What are you, her keeper? She's fine, she didn't drown."

"What I am to her is none of your concern, but what I am to you, is your worst fucking nightmare." With a swift move, Jonah brought his knee up until it rocketed into Jamie's groan and sent him down on his knees with a scream.

He would have done more, Jonah would have lifted him back up and punched him or even threw him in the pool for a taste of his own medicine. But he didn't. He stopped short when a pair of soaking wet, trembling arms wrapped around his torso and a delicate chin perched in the crook of his elbow, stopping him from leaning down to grab Jamie who was still writhing in agony.

"I'm okay, d-don't waste your energy on him, please?" (Y/n) could feel his muscles tensing and his arm twitching against her chest with the urge to lunge down and grab Jamie, but he relented and stood up straight. He would leave matters as they were, but only because she had asked him to.

Jonah turned his arm that was within (Y/n)'s grip and took one of her hands in his, holding as tight as possible while his other hand cupped the back of her head so he could kiss her temple.

When he started to walk away, (Y/n) followed at his side and kept up with his long strides while his arm stayed in her grasp.

The look on his face was furious, (Y/n) had never seen him look so dark and dangerous before. His eyes were almost black, his lips were snarling and his jaw was tightly locked. It made everyone move out of his way the moment he got close and he didn't care that he was leaving a water trail behind them, he wanted out of this whole situation.

"Jonah, it's alright-"

"No it's not!" (Y/n) stumbled back a step and froze in the corner of the empty kitchen they had been walking through. "He hurt you, that's not okay-"

"But you got me out, you stopped him,"

"You wanna know why?"

His free hand cupped her jaw, tilted her head up towards him and his lips smothered hers in less than a second. He swallowed her shocked gasp and any breath she tried to take. He devoured her lips like they were something sacred he had been searching for his entire life. She could feel his teeth nipping at her lip and his tongue pushed to explore her mouth while his fingers dug into her chin lovingly and possessively.

"That's why. I want you to be mine."

[rose7420]

Astarion BG3 GT Story

I've been wanting a GT Astarion story so this is self-indulgent...

Warnings: Language, Nudity

“I know how to cast a goddamn spell Astarion” You huff out as you stand up from the blanket you both sit on. He chuckles, standing up to follow you.

Ever since you’d been back to set up camp he’d been pestering you about your mishap. On your mission to set up, a group of goblins had ambushed and in attempts to take them out quicker, you’d sent a fire blast incantation. 

It backfired.

You wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt like utter hell but to Astarion’s smug face, you’d never admit it. Thankfully at the time you had been carrying around a vial of healing potion and that cleared up the blistering burn. But for now, you were stuck with the irksome vampire until the rest of your party arrived. The group had split up into two; Shadowheart, Gale, and Karlach off to kill a nest of spiders and their matriarch. You made it very clear this was not an adventure you’d partake in with your arachnophobia and promised to set up camp. Astarion had conveniently left out through the whole previous weeks of the group’s journey of his fear of spiders too. But you knew how he was. A true diva to the core. Right now you’d almost rather take the spiders.

“You know it is rather unsettling knowing how undisciplined of a sorcerer you are. How in the world did you make it to be the unsaid leader of the group?’He clicks his tongue, steps matching with yours now as you trudge into the woods.

“Go find something to bite!” You groan coming to a stop.

“And leave you alone? Darling if something happened to you I couldn’t live with myself knowing I left such an atrocious spellcaster to defend themselves.”

His teasing words are the edge of the cliff for you. “That’s it!” You yell and cast a mute spell towards him in an effort to shut him up.

You know that it backfires again when a sudden, unexpected sensation washes over you. Your head spins for a moment with a wave of nausea. Then after a few seconds, it's gone. 

“Oh dear…” You hear a booming voice say. Astarion’s. You groan.

You open your eyes ready to yell some more. 

But then you stop.

All around you, everything is enlarged, and like you’ve entered a world of giants. Massive pebbles as big as rocks now, grains of dirt larger than your hand. It’s unrecognizable but it's the same place you’ve always known.

“Well now, that didn’t go as planned, did it? Was your plan to shrink me?”

Your head snaps up taking in the enormous form of Astarion now. And your mouth dries.

He was always a few inches taller than you, him having substantial height for an elf. But now he was godlike. It was mind-numbing to think about how fucking huge he was now. Your eyes follow the gigantic black, leather knee-high boot all the way to his crossed arms and smirking face. You stumble back, overwhelmed by his size and not bothering to mention the fact you cast a mute spell not reduce.

He continues to stand being the little shit he is. Not bothering to kneel.

“Are you going to say something or simply take in my charm little dear? I completely understand the latter choice mind you. What a pleasure I assume that you get to bask in even more of me than usual…”  Of course, he’d say that. He’s probably enjoying this entire thing. For all you know, he has a kink for tiny chicks.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as he shifts his weight slightly, making his boot crunch a leaf.

Fear is no stranger to you in this daunting lifestyle. That quick feeling of your heart skipping a beat and limbs electrifying as you meet your opponent's glare. 

But here you’re useless. One step from his boot and you’re simply another bloodstain on the ground. 

So that’s exactly when you start to run. 

Rationally you know he has the upper hand in almost every way. He’s fast, an expert at hunting, and the small detail of him having a hundred feet on you now. Except it’s you who's smaller than a dormouse and vaulting over twigs that minutes ago you'd snapped with your boot. 

The ground starts to rumble under your feet, causing you to stumble. No doubt Astarion is already on your heels. You still keep running, no idea where you’re headed but far away from-

You stumble, barely managing to avoid falling headfirst into a river.

Well a river to you, but merely a stream to the vampire not far behind you.

You dare glance behind you and see Astarion stalking towards you, his pace unhurried as if this is an afternoon stroll and not a chase. 

You wager you have less than seconds to clear the “river” before he’s caught up. You take a few steps back and start a running leap. You get ready to jump, feet just about to leave the ground when the earth shudders. You misstep, tumbling down the slight slope straight into the running water. 

Your lungs seize with the freezing temperature and you desperately reach out for anything to keep you aloft and not down the stream. The muscles in your arms strain paddling to keep your head above the rapid and take a breath before you’re swept under the current. For a split second everything is peaceful and silent. The only pain is the burning in your lungs. 

Then something cups beneath your body, a tad warmer than the current temperature but not by much. Then you’re lifted away, your body instantly curling up with the chill of the air and your sodden clothes. You cough the water from your lungs.

“I think that went well, don’t you? I’m personally delighted you ran off into the forest like a lunatic! What in the hells were you thinking?” Astarion says, his voice loud. You cover your ears, shivering now. 

He must notice how you don’t respond as he begins to tuck you into his chest with more grunts of complaint. His fingers are surprisingly gentle as he uses the collar of his ruffled undershirt to cover you with. Thankful for the refuge and warmth you close your eyes and pull it around you. You feel every thump of his heart here. An odd but not unfamiliar place for you since you’ve only been this close to Astarion once. 

The one night he was so weak he tried to drink from you in your sleep. You had woken up with his fangs bared at your throat. Immediately he scrambled away, the only time you’d seen him so unsure of himself. He’d explained how weak he was and how he only needed something that would be easy to drink from and no requirement of being hunted. Seeing him as a vital part of your team you allowed him to drink from you. Not to mention you couldn’t bear to stand the sight of the bags under his eyes, how desperate he’d become to make himself vulnerable enough to ask for your help. 

You remember how he’d leaned over you, how his eyes met yours asking permission one last time. With either hand planted beside your head, he’d tilted your jaw up tenderly before sinking his teeth in. The pain had been icy sharp, but his tongue lapped your blood and it settled into a dull, pleasant ache. 

You blink your eyes back to reality as his finger twitches from the sensation of your tiny foot brushing the soft pad. As you tuck your legs in you notice his many rings that adorn his fingers. The one on his middle catches your eye with the ruby gem atop it. The jewelry is elegant and you think of how much it suits Astarion. Your heart still pounds, even with a small twitch the movement of something so big startles you and your stomach flips. You wrap your fingers in the soft cloth of his shirt and deeply inhale to soothe your nerves. And for the first time, you notice how silent Astarion is. 

Peeking a look up at him you see his defined, taught jaw. He’s clenching it looking straight ahead. It’s astounding how much of your vision he takes up. And you can’t help but admit how attractive he is. His throat bobs as he swallows, at one point you’d imagine running your tongue over it but now the damn lump is bigger than you. And the firm chest under you is only a fraction of the rest of his solid, lean body. 

“Are we there yet?” You ask

Astarion looks down at you, huddled in his shirt collar and in a small puddle of water his palm had created. “Patience little mouse.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Why? It’s fitting no?”

“Well then I guess that makes you a…” You search your mind for a fitting creature of his stature compared to you now. With a sigh you have nothing. You settle for ignoring him.

“Don’t go quiet on me now…” He says raising you to his eyes. The sudden elevation is dizzying and you shoot forward to hold onto one of his fingers. 

“Astarion!” You chide him.

“Apologies…” He smirks not being apologetic at all. Probably secretly loving how your chest is pressed tightly against him in your embrace. 

“Serves you well making me chase after you on your mad run.”

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” You pout.

“And become some creature’s next meal? How dreadful of an end for you though…”

You roll your eyes, but notice how his hand curls around you as you shiver. He lowers you back to his chest and almost smothers you with his shirt collar piling it on top of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later on when Astarion finally gets you both back to camp...

“You can’t sleep in wet clothes.” He says holding out a palm for you to drop them into. 

“It’ll b-be fi-fine As-Astarion.” Your teeth chatter and you bite down to keep them from clacking. 

You sit on his pallet with him towering in front of you despite his sitting position on the ground. His eyes darken as he looms over you. “You’ll take them off or I’ll take them off for you.”

Your heart quickens and you nervously chuckle, “I kn-knew y-you were kin-kinky bu-but-” 

Your words are cut off as his hand whisks you from the ground, placing you in his palm. “A pitiful attempt at seduction on your part my dear. You know I can’t in good mind accept your invitation when you are colder than me… now help me warm you up. You're tinier than a pixie.”

He’s gentle as his fingertips pinch the hem of your shirt to get it over your head. You undo the buttons at your breast to let it slip over your head. He sets them on the ground and lets you go about undoing your bottoms and the wet fabric falls with a slap to his palm. 

You don’t make a move to remove your undergarments. He gives you a questioning look with a lift of one eyebrow. 

“Oh no darling I meant it all. Don’t worry, although tempting I suppose I’ll leave you be tonight.” The side of his mouth quirks in a smile with your blushing face, revealing a glimpse of a sharp fang. 

You roll your eyes and shuck off the rest throwing your bra at his face. It lands on the slope of his nose, so he crosses his eyes to see it making you laugh. With an unimpressed look, he peels off the garment and lays it with the rest. 

“Cheeky little pup…” His eyes flicker up and down your naked form.

You blush and lean back into his palm, feeling very exposed. Not that you aren’t.

“I need some clothes you pervert.” 

Astarion’s eyes are heavy, darkening as he continues to stare. “I suppose you do. Though I don’t have a habit of carrying anything your size darling.”

“I’m not going to stand here naked! Besides I’m cold.” You whine.

He exhales. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

Instead of setting you down on the pallet, he brings you to his shoulder. “What do you expect me to do?” You ask him. Certainly, it can’t be safe up here.

“Climb aboard my little pet.” He purrs. Your stomach jumps from the name.

“Astarion! I could fall! And then you’d miss me and my terrible spellcasting abilities.”

“Ah! You admit it! You were dreadfully awful at it. I suppose you being the size of a mouse and quite adorable make up for it.” He maneuvers you in his hand, instead of standing he has only two fingers gripping your waist. He deposits you right beside his neck. 

The sliver of bare skin feels intimate as you begrudgingly sit down. You even feel his pulse beneath you.

“Hold tight.”

He stands up without warning and your soul leaves your body as the ground moves. It’s all you can do to find something to hold on to which is his beloved hair. Your death grip is certainly noticeable but you can’t seem to care.

“Ow!” Astarion shouts as you watch his hand appear and part you from your only saving grace. You hold tight, not willing to let go while your heart races.

“A little warning next time you stand or anything for that matter! Fuckin hells…” You squeak out.

He must sense your racing heart and relents, pulling his hand away. “Fine… let's come to an agreement. You keep your hands out of my hair as irresistible as it is. I’ll make a better effort to forewarn you of any sudden movements. Deal?”

You grunt and let go of his white curls, hands still shaking from the height you’re at. 

“Oh darling, scared of spiders and now heights…what am I to do with you? Hold on.” You begin to snap at him asking what in the hell he means by both those sentences when his hand engulfs you, tucking you snugly against his shoulder. 

“Ah here we are.” He says lifting his hand away and nudging you to the side with a fingertip. You watch as he puts on a chain necklace. 

When his hand retreats your left staring at it. Did he feel he had a fashion crisis and desperately needed an accessory?

“It’s for you so you feel more… steady. I understand it may be quite daunting to be up so high. And so you quit pulling my hair.” You can tell its hard for him to admit he cares so you quietly thank him and scooch over to wrap an arm around the chain. Instantly you feel more secure.

[vyingeyes]

Project Crown - 1 - Ground Zero

Geonosis was the kind of nightmare that nobody could ever really prepare you for. The Kaminoans had tried, but the divide between training and a real battlefield stretched unfathomably wide, and the only way to bridge that gap is to experience the latter firsthand.

Course was one of many clones deployed to Geonosis. He also seemed to be the only one with a functioning brain.

“48! Get back in formation!” Kyr snapped beside him.

Course didn’t bother turning to see what trouble their idiot brother was getting up to this time, far too preoccupied trying to patch up the unnamed clone that a Geonosian had flung down to their squad from one of the ledges a few meters above them in the canyon. The poor guy was thoroughly dazed from his short flight, but his wounds weren’t serious.

Kyr’s steady presence hovered by Course’s left side. “Status?”

“Stable. He’ll be able to keep fighting as soon as he’s able to think straight.”

The newcomer groaned out something vaguely interrogative, and Course turned to address Kyr head-on.

“Give me two minutes.”

Kyr’s visor tilted toward the ledges, and Course knew he was on the lookout for more bugs. “Hurry.”

There’s not really much I can do to speed the process up, Course thought dryly as their unit moved to block the wounded clone from any new avenue of attack. Nonetheless, he leaned over the clone.

“Break’s over,” he said bluntly. “As soon as you’re up we can get you back to your unit.”

“What… Where…?”

A flash of annoyance flickered through Course, and he tried his best to smother it. It was reasonable that a trooper would be confused after such an atypical experience. It wasn’t his fault he’d hit his head. Probably.

“A Geo dropped you down onto my squad. We’re gonna get you back up to yours.”

“Oh.” The other clone pushed himself into a sitting position, crest waving like a flag as he looked around to try and get his bearings back about him.

“Is he up?” Kyr called from where he spoke with 48.

“It hasn’t been two minutes,” Course reminded.

“I’m up,” the clone announced, pushing himself the rest of the way up.

Course sighed, but offered the clone a hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Myth contacted his unit,” Kyr told Course. “They’re sending down their gunner to help bring him back up. We just have to stick around to make sure no Geonosians interrupt their climb.”

The gunner in question just barely peeked over the edge of the east-side ledge, fiddling with something, presumably in preparation to drop down. The ledge wasn’t too tall, maybe six meters, but the wall was sheer, and the Crown-Green unit didn’t have the gear to scale it even if they wanted to. Fortunately, the unit above them seemed to be prepared for this exact situation, and in moments, the heavy gunner was descending.

Course knew that Green Squad alone could probably handle bug-watching, so he didn’t hesitate to use the lapse of downtime to head directly over to Myth and drag him under an overhang to check him over.

“Wh- Course!” Myth yelped, staggering as Course pulled him along. “I’m fine!”

Course ignored him, opting instead to remove Myth’s upper bicep armor with a quick click and pull of the release mechanism. Immediately, the magnets deactivated and the rerebrace fell away from his brother’s arm in two pieces. Course twisted Myth’s arm to better assess the area where a stray bolt had skimmed him earlier that morning during their first big firefight.

Course removed the hastily applied bacta patch from the sliver of blister-bright skin revealed by the incision in the body glove, and Myth’s hiss through clenched teeth told Course that he wasn’t enjoying it. But the bacta did its job, and as Course applied a new one (more careful now that he had the time to dedicate to it, carefully centered so that the bacta-infused center sat flush with the worst of the burn), he grew confident that it would be fully closed by the time all this mess was over.

“Seriously, it was fine,” Myth muttered, his words just barely making it through the vocoder.

“Don’t be a brat,” Course said. “Infection is one of the stupidest ways you could die. I’ve been wanting to fix that patch for hours.”

“We’re supposed to be watching for Geonosians!”

The sound of blasters firing followed immediately by a bright, “Got it!” from their unit made Course raise an unimpressed eyebrow under his helmet even knowing his brother wouldn’t be able to see it.

“I think they’ve got it handled.”

Myth’s visor dropped toward the ground, and for a moment Course considered poking fun at him for being so petulant, but then Kyr ducked into the cover with them.

“Dral’s back with Orbit-Nexu,” he informed. “We need to keep moving.”

Course latched Myth’s rerebrace back on. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Myth echoed absently, already moving back toward the unit the moment his armor was secured.

“Any problems?” Kyr asked, a hint of his Leader Voice peeking in past the otherwise innocuous question.

Course shook his head. “Just took a second to redress Myth’s graze,” he dismissed. “Didn’t have time to do it properly the first time.”

“Good. Let’s get going, then.”

Together, they headed back toward the unit, where 48 was giving Myth a dramatic retelling of what Course guessed would be the Geo kill that he had just performed.

“—hit it right in the wing, it went spiraling, and I—”

“Alright soldiers,” Kyr interrupted, “break’s over. We’ve still got a rendezvous to make.”

48 threw his head back, clearly personally targeted, but he moved with the rest of them to get back into formation. Kyr and Punch side-by-side in the lead, followed by Myth and Push, then Course and Pinch, Pull and Punt, and 48 on his own at the rear of the group. Comfortable. Familiar. Protocol.

Technically speaking, it was protocol to have infantry at the rear to prevent any specialists from getting attacked from behind. Course knew that 48 specifically got put in that slot to prevent him from getting sidetracked trying to talk to the person beside him, but it felt like a bigger risk that he would get a bright idea and leave the formation, and then none of them would notice until he was already gone. Kyr clearly had more faith in him than Course did.

“8ball is heading back our way,” Kyr announced over local comms as they continued the trek through the dusty canyon. “He says it should be a clear shot to the landing field.”

Kyr did his best to conceal his apprehension, but unfortunately, Course was also familiar with their brother. Just because 8ball thought the path was clear, that didn’t mean that it was by anyone else’s standards.

And, as the Crown-Green unit caught sight of their scout dashing back toward them, a small horde of B1s trailing behind him, Course’s skepticism was rewarded.

Their helmet comms crackled as 8ball connected to the local frequency. “Hey guys! Help!”

Blaster bolts filled the air between the two parties, and in a frankly impressively short moment 8ball found himself barreling into their formation at top speed. He did not slow down once he got past the leads, and Myth and Push jerked to either side to avoid getting run over. Beside Course, Pinch moved to the right. So did Course.

8ball scrambled to slow down in the two meters he had to realize Course was stepping into his path, sending up a spray of dust and grit as he tried to hit the brakes. Course braced. 8ball hit him with a loud CLACK, armor colliding with armor, and Course stumbled backwards to keep them both from falling to the ground.

Course gripped his brother by his shoulders and bodily turned him back toward the droids, pushing him a bit to give himself the room needed to raise his own rifle.

48 shoved his way up to be with the two of them, shooting all the while. “Y’know, 8ball, typically you want to shoot the droids that are shooting at you.”

8ball snarled something distinctly offensive as he fumbled to equip his rifle with its sniper extension.

“Focus,” Course snapped at the both of them. “This isn’t a sim.”

48 straightened up theatrically. “Yes sir, medic sir!”

Course scowled, but 8ball laughed and began lining up his shots.

“What happened to ‘clear’?” Kyr demanded over their comm.

8ball fired off a shot, and Course watched a clanker fall bodily into its neighbor. “I said ‘pretty clear’! And it is! Once we get past these guys.”

There was a laugh from someone in Green Squad at that, and in front of Course, Punch shook his head in the resigned sort of way that most sane individuals did after more than ten minutes alone with Crown Squad. Course would know it. He did it daily.

“Charge primed!” Punt announced behind them, and the unit scattered like clockwork while the ordnance specialist readied his shot. In an instant, the path cleared, and the explosive was flying through the air toward the unit of droids.

Even from the moderate distance between the groups, Course could hear the cartoonish, “uh oh” that came from at least three separate droids when the explosive rolled neatly into the center of the group. The explosion itself was quick and controlled, enough to fill the comm channel with brief feedback from the sheer number of open lines, but not enough to shake the walls of the cliffs on either side of them.

“Nice shot,” Kyr complimented, lowering his gun now that the threat was neutralized. “8ball?”

8ball flitted to the front of the unit. “Yes?”

“What the hell was that?”

“Well, I snuck by them really easily on the first trip,” the scout started, “but then on the way back they’d decided to get in the way and I couldn’t get back without getting their attention, and it’d take too long to deal with them alone, and I knew the SBDs would be too slow to follow all the way back to the group so I thought—”

“Supers?” Punch interrupted, head jolting back the way that 8ball had come and half-lifting his Z-6 like he expected a Super to appear dramatically out of the dust, summoned by the very mention.

“It’s just the Supers now,” 8ball said, a bit defensive now at the tone of the other squad leader. “That’s why I said it was ‘pretty’ clear. It was just two squads of B1s and the SBDs. That’s nothing.”

Kyr went quiet, head tilting, and Course knew he was trying to be patient.

“How many SBDs?” Course asked, shooting a glance towards Kyr that hopefully conveyed it happened, cope.

“Just two,” 8ball said, and the tension drained out of Kyr’s shoulders.

“Alright, that’s workable.” Kyr glanced toward Punch, then Punt. “Do you have enough ordnance to deal with both of them?”

Technically they all had some ordnance, but Kyr would be trying to keep them all as armed as possible for as long as possible, so taking care of these Supers would fall primarily on Punt.

“Easily,” Punt said, waving him off. “Leave the clankers to me.”

“8ball, I want you to be with him,” Kyr said. “You know the drill with B2s. See if you can’t get their plating to crumble before Punt takes his shot.”

Punch examined the group. “It might be useful to have 48 with them, too. I know he knows his way around a grenade, if it comes down to it.”

48 lit up even through the thick layers of armor, practically glowing under the plastoid. “Happily, sir.”

Kyr shot Punch a look, then 48. “It’s not a bad idea,” he permitted. “You three will head in. Course, I want you with them. The rest of us will be behind you to prevent a flank.”

Course wanted to argue against that. It made more sense to keep the medic with the bigger chunk of the group, especially when the men taking point would be ideally staying out of range of the B2s. But it wasn’t his job to question the order, and if Kyr was the one giving it, he’d follow it. Hopefully the rest of the unit would be staying close enough to them that it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway.

“Alright,” he said. At least if he went, he’d be able to stop 8ball and 48 from doing something inadvisable. He didn’t trust Punt to do as much.

Kyr grasped Course by the vambrace and tapped their helmets together for a few short seconds. “Good luck.”

Bastard. “You’re better off telling that to 8ball.”

An amused huff crackled through Kyr’s vocoder, and he gave Course one last pat to the back before moving to give 8ball and 48 the same treatment. The second Kyr stepped away from him, Myth fluttered up to Course.

“SBDs are slow but they hit hard,” Myth blurted. Then, all in the same breath, “Their plating is blast proof but there are weak points at the edges of each plate that if targeted can cause the internal components to be exposed and leave them more susceptible—”

Course shook his head. “Myth. We’ve got it. You focus on keeping the Geos away from us, we’ll worry about the Supers.”

Myth hovered a second longer, arms moving in little aborted jerks like he had more to say, before his head snapped into a nod and he hurried back toward Push and Pull.

An arm slung itself around Course’s shoulders and he tensed, turning his helmet and nearly clacking his helmet against 48’s.

“So… Babysitting duty,” 48 dragged out.

Course blinked slowly. “Yes. Babysitting you.”

“Kyr’s mad at 8ball right now, not me,” 48 dismissed. “You’re babysitting him.”

“You broke formation. He’s mad at both of you.”

“Yeah, but I only broke formation. 8ball’s doing 8ball-level stupid shit. He takes the lead.”

“Alright Crowns,” Punt sighed, pushing himself into their little bubble and grabbing 48 by the strap of his armor. “Let’s go blow up some B2s.”

They steered toward 8ball and, having collected their last stray teammate, set out into the valley that 8ball had scouted.

8ball darted to take point. “They should still be pretty far in, the big ones don’t do well with uphill slopes, if they even bothered chasing.”

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Punt asked, glancing around the steepening cliffs with a wariness that you couldn’t help but gain after having one too many Geonosians appear out of nowhere.

“There’s a gap between the cliffs that we need to go through to get to the landing zone,” 8ball said. “But a little bit before that there’s this place where a bunch of these mountain passes meet at a sort of crossroads. The droids were down the left one when I passed the first time. It’s only a few minutes out. I was thinking we could scale one of the ledges that overlook it and take pot shots from there.”

Course breathed an impatient sigh. “Coordinates, 8ball.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sending them now.”

A ping on the corner of his HUD appeared, and Course accepted it to update his local map with a location marker.

“We should probably start climbing now,” 8ball considered. “It’ll just get steeper the further in we go.”

Nobody was going to argue with a scout about local topography, so they began to painstakingly increase the distance between themselves and the ground, following 8ball as he made occasionally precarious hops between the cliffside’s sporadic footholds. Course’s only regret was that he wouldn’t get to watch the rest of their unit attempt the journey.

Course trailed behind the three of them, focusing his attention on the cliffs around them more than the conversation going on over their comms. Any sudden shadow made by the clouds drifting above them could be a Geonosian gunning for them, if not for the undisturbed quiet of the canyon. Geos typically didn’t run at them, though. All of the ones that Course had encountered thus far flew, and their wings made a distinct droning buzz that had reminded him of the insects they studied in their flash training modules—they hadn’t included audio, but the description couldn’t be like anything else. The Geos were presumably louder than a traditionally sized insect, but so far, he hadn’t run across one to compare them with.

“What do you think, Course?” 48 prompted suddenly over their comm. They were on relatively flat ground, now, and his brother peered over his shoulder back at him.

Course did not know what the topic was, but given the clones present, he didn’t think it mattered very much. He fixed his visor on 48 and stared wordlessly.

“See? I told you Course would agree with me,” 8ball bragged. “Your idea is stupid anyway. There’s no way that you’d be able to—”

Course rolled his eyes. “Stay on task.”

8ball sighed, but if he kept talking, it happened on a comm frequency that didn’t include Course, which was really all he could ask for.

They made it to the overlook in good time. Kyr would be glad, given that their rendezvous was supposed to be in twenty-two minutes and they were already pushing it. 8ball made quick work of dropping to his stomach and propping his sniper while 48 stooped to help Punt arm the grenades.

“Told you. I think they might be stuck,” 8ball crackled through the comm.

Course glanced over the ledge to get an idea of the scene and saw that, as 8ball had suggested earlier, the so-called “super” battle droids did indeed seem to be stuck at the bottom of a fifty-degree slope. Course struggled to think of too many other reasons the droids wouldn’t have gone to reinforce the B1s’ attack.

“Either that or they’re guarding the pass,” 8ball continued idly. “That’s the way we need to go. You need to make sure that you don’t blow up the entrance or I’m gonna have to find a new route and then we’re really gonna be late.”

Course looked past the SBDs and saw what 8ball must be referring to. Half blocked by the hulking frames of the supers was a crack in the cliff face. A clone could probably fit, if they took their time and entered sideways, but an SBD had no hope. Course just hoped that the rest of the pass widened out, if that’s the way they’d be having to go soon.

“Alright,” Course said. “Get to work.”

“Yeah? And what’re you gonna do, watch us?” 48 demanded. 

Course knew intrinsically that 48 just wanted to get a rise out of him, but he couldn’t help the slight air of annoyance as he said, “I’m going to watch your six so you don’t get ambushed. Hurry up.”

48 laughed as Course turned and stepped away to watch their flank. Course never did understand the carelessness of his brothers, but he wouldn’t be wasting the time trying to figure it out now of all times.

He was aware, vaguely, of Punt and 8ball coordinating their attack a solid few meters away, but Course examined the rocky ledges above and below them. This planet had an eerie atmosphere— eerie in the way that it seemed to house enemies that could appear or disappear in a moment. On the gunship down, Myth had rattled off a hundred different facts about the planet’s geography, but the one that Course remembered most clearly was that the Geonosians lived primarily under the surface, in dingy caves and tunnels. It made sense, if you wanted to avoid the glaring heat of the Geonosian sun, but it also meant that Course could never be sure that a shadow was just a shadow. The natural texture of the cliffs meant that there could be a tunnel mouth hiding just out of view at any point, and none of them would know any better.

“Ready?” 8ball asked.

Punt’s comm crackled as he spoke. “Go.”

A deafening crack shattered the quiet as 8ball took his first shot, followed quickly by a second. Course looked over just long enough to see Punt lobbing his first explosive down at the droids, a muffled blast following just seconds after.

“One damaged, one staggered,” 48 reported through their local helmet comm. “Eighty, target the one by the wall. Punt, the other one should be easy to finish off, its hull’s warping—”

Another crack as 8ball fired his sniper rifle, but Course didn’t look to see if it hit. Punt said something about the SBDs below, loud in Course’s ears as he fumbled to mute the incoming audio. A high pitched droning echoed in the walls of the canyon, quickly growing louder as its source approached. Where was it coming from?

“Course!”

That wasn’t over the comms, and Course didn’t have time to identify which brother had called out to him before unyielding hands grabbed him and hoisted him into the air.

Course had been trained for a lot of things. Impromptu, uncontrolled flight was one of them, actually, but it had always been in the context of jetkits, not flying enemies. He couldn’t cut the fuel line or unlatch this carrier from his armor. He couldn’t even complete a fraction of a twist, due to the hold the bug had him in, so wriggling his way out didn’t look likely. The droning from before now rattled his skull as the ground shrank underneath him, and he couldn’t hope to hear his brothers even if they somehow knew what to do in this situation—Myth would, but he wasn’t here either way. Course was alone.

Plasma bolts flew into the orange rock around him as the others tried to shoot at the bug, occasionally accompanied by the resounding crack of 8ball’s sniper, but either Course had been picked up by a master of evasion, or they were too afraid of shooting him instead of it. He’d love to tell them to just commit, because he’d much rather die getting shot than by whatever this thing had planned for him. The sound of rushing air muffled the shouts coming from below him, and as Course craned his neck to peer down, he realized that his window for surviving getting away from this bug was closing rapidly. Damned if you do…

Course would take death by falling over a secondary location any day. With that thought in mind, he ducked his chin as close to his chest as he could manage and slammed his head back into his captor with all his strength. He doubted he’d hit it anywhere important—the bugs that were big enough to carry a clone trooper had eerily long torsos—but between the barrage of blaster bolts and the headbutt, the bug loosened its grip enough for Course to jerk halfway out of its hold. The two of them dipped in the air for a moment as the Geonosian fought to maintain its grip on him, but with one arm free, Course was free to wretch the medical scissors out of his belt and stab at the bug until it gave up and dropped him completely.

Hurtling toward the ground was louder than heading up; the rushing air was familiar, and the absence of insectoid wings was more than made up for by the blood that roared in his ears. Somehow, both of those constants disappeared to highlight the sound his armor made as he skimmed the rock wall of the canyon. Course wasn’t sure if it would have been enough to slow his speed, but he had no time to run calculations. If he’d been thinking, he would have counted how long it took him to fall. It would give him an idea of how he should go about treating himself, should he survive the landing.

Unlike the first collision, Course did not hear himself hitting the ground. He could tell you how he landed—feet first, and then crumpling forward onto frantically-outstretched arms—but nothing else. He must have blacked out for a moment, perhaps upon impact? One minute he was falling, the next, he was flat on the ground. He knew how it happened but would be hard-pressed to describe it in any detail.

Sound filtered slowly back in through his helmet. Fuzzy voices of panicked brothers, indistinguishable without focus that he did not have. No more blaster-fire, no explosions, nothing to suggest they were still in danger. He found himself still on his front. The others must have caught up, because Myth or Pull would be the only ones with enough sense through the chaos to tell the others not to turn Course over in case of injury to the spine.

Course ignored the voices for a moment to focus deeply on the feel of his legs. They were in sharp, searing agony, which was nice. It meant that at the very least, he probably wasn’t paralyzed. His arms, too, ached, though not nearly as badly. But he survived, somehow, and although the realization slowly dawned that he hurt all over—no doubt from the events of the entire day, not just his impromptu flight—there was little more he could ask for.

Someone’s arm jostling his shoulder drew him out of himself, and a small sound of discomfort left him at the disruption.

“Course?” Kyr’s Leader Voice, unmistakably, which could only mean that he’d terrified his brother. “Can you hear me, vod?”

Course closed his eyes for a second. Can’t even fall out of the sky without having to do everything on his terms, he thought bitterly. He knew that was uncharitable. He also figured he was more than entitled to a little bit of a bad attitude, at that moment. He took a moment to brace himself. “… Yes.”

A chorus of identical voices broke out, quickly hushed, before Kyr spoke again. “What’s your status?”

Status? Course thought, astonished. That was… an unbelievable ask. He knew, logically, that Kyr falling back on protocol helped him to hold onto some sense of normalcy. His brother was definitely, certainly, very deeply concerned about Course. It still pissed him off. “… Blunt force trauma to the legs. Extensive. Probable minor damage to arms and skull,” he droned. “Recommended course of action is to administer one stim cannister to each leg and continue to the rendezvous.”

The chatter picked up again, and nobody shushed it this time.

“What?” Kyr demanded, pitch increasing in fractions. “You just broke both of your legs. You are not getting a stim and a pat on the back.”

“Protocol says I do.”

“This is an exception,” the Leader-Voice intoned, back in full-force and leaving no room for debate. “We’ve got seventeen minutes to get to the rendezvous. We can’t have you hobbling along behind us slowing us down. I’ll carry you.”

Course’s eyes shot open. “No, you won’t,” he argued, his normally flat tone lilting up with frustration and incredulity. “If you’d just administer the stim, I will be up faster than it will take you to figure out how to get me through that opening.”

“We’ll give you the stim and you can get through the narrowest part of the path,” Kyr agreed, “but once we can, I’m carrying you.”

“That is not protocol,” Course snarled, anger simmering up from his stomach.

“It’ll be faster.” Kyr’s voice held no concern for any potential breach in protocol. “The most important thing is that we make it to our rendezvous. How we get there isn’t so important.”

Course took a moment to process. If Kyr truly refused to relent on this… “Then I’ll be noting your disregard for protocol in my report.”

The quiet murmur of their other brothers cut out suddenly. Nobody said anything for a few long moments. A hesitant voice—who had to be either Myth or Pinch—was the next to speak.

“It’s really not worth it, Kyr. As long as we move now, we can still make it—”

“Write me up, then,” Kyr interrupted, ignoring the input entirely. His words grew sharper, edged in frustration. “I don’t care. I’m not having you walk on broken legs the entire way.”

He did not wait for a response, immediately injecting stim into the gaps between Course’s leg plates. Course supposed Kyr had spent the duration of the argument rummaging through Course’s med kit. A third, unexpected jab at the top of the neck startled Course, and he flinched away from it.

“I don’t trust that you didn’t hurt your back.” Kyr’s voice wasn’t so sharp now, perhaps in apology for the unwarranted extra shot.

Course did not grace him with any further reaction, instead rolling to his side and pushing himself upright. He ignored the influx of brothers at his every side, jerking to his feet with gritted teeth. Every pound of weight he put onto his legs sent screaming agony directly through his lower half, but he would not be encouraging Kyr’s disregard for regulation by doing anything other than breathe through it.

Kyr finally seemed to understand that he wouldn’t be getting acceptance out of Course today. “48, take point with 8ball.” Kyr continued to instruct the unit how they would proceed, fully ignoring the Green Squad Lead two meters away from him.

To Punch’s merit, he said nothing. He looked Course over and gave him a small nod as Kyr did his job for him. Course wondered how he just decided to let it go. Course wasn’t a squad lead. Wasn’t even kind of an officer, in any sense, other than being a medic, and even that being dismissed for what Kyr wanted to do was rage inducing. He couldn’t imagine spending his entire life being trained to lead others and then having some hard-headed ass swoop in and take that away from him.

They progressed to the ground level in a very nontraditional huddle of plastoid, half of them pointing their guns at every shadow on the rocks and the other half hovering around Course like he could turn to dust at any moment. If Course could focus on anything other than the amount of pain he was in, he was sure he’d tell them off so badly they wouldn’t ever look at him twice again.

The charred heaps of scrap that were once Super Battle Droids lay just in front of the narrow crevice that their unit would have to squeeze through. If Course was lucky, it would stay that narrow long enough for Kyr to drop the subject of carrying him.

Course glanced to 8ball. The scout inspected his sniper, uncharacteristically quiet, while 48 spoke lowly by the audio receptor of his helmet. What they were talking about, Course couldn’t say, but after a moment, 8ball nodded and pushed toward the front of the group to take point as previously instructed. He turned to the side and squeezed into the gap between the cliffs. A few steps in, he turned to face the unit again, waving cheerily.

48 went next, followed by half of Green Squad. There was a brief moment of concern where Punch nearly got his Z-6 stuck going through, but with a little pulling by 48, both clone and gun were in.

Kyr gestured Course to go first. Course assumed it was so that he could breathe down his neck the entire time, but bitterly followed the given instruction. Kyr followed close after. Blessedly, he did not attempt to hoist Course over his shoulder the moment they could walk straight.

Once the entire unit was confirmed to be in the passage, they began to make their trek. According to Course’s comm, they had approximately ten minutes before they were late for the rendezvous. Despite himself, anxiety began to bloom in the pit of Course’s stomach. The hard part of this deployment had already concluded—a brief firefight with Geonosian ground forces while the command class troopers and commandos knocked out the big stuff—and the only thing left was to show up on time.  What would happen to them if they failed to do something as simple as that?

He knew the others had to be feeling the same stress. Some of his brothers knew how to hide it better than others—he was pretty sure if Myth looked over his shoulder one more time, his neck would break—but every one of their lives hinged on a good combat report. Failure to do the one part of the mission that required them to think on their own feet wouldn’t look good. If they were lucky, they might end up somewhere nice and boring. If they weren’t—well, you don’t send your best troopers to fight on the front lines of losing battles. Maybe the Kaminoans would find the bleakest battle possible and deploy them there as cannon fodder.

About a minute later, the passage widened further, allowing them to pull up into a traditional two-lined formation lead by 8ball and 48 side-by-side. It was then that Kyr walked around Course and blocked his path.

Course fixed his T-visor on his brother. Kyr’s emotionless helmet peered back. He was sure both of them had their jaws set, could almost see the annoyed scowl Kyr must be wearing.  He knew all of their faces well, but he knew Kyr’s micro expressions better than anyone else.

Kyr didn’t seem eager to prolong their standoff any more than Course was. “You can let me carry you, or I will wrangle you into a hold.”

Unspoken: we don’t have time for this. Course knew that. At least Kyr didn’t feel the need to spell that one out for him.

Course said nothing for a moment. Reflected on the situation as a whole. Remembered the unspoken message he gave Kyr not an hour before—it happened, cope. He took a breath.

“It will be going in the medical report.”

“Fine by me.”

The air cleared suddenly. Course hadn’t realized it had ever thickened, but he felt it then.

Everyone else had expected him to cause a scene about it. They were waiting for him to dig his heels in and start an argument. Maybe because that’s what most of his batchmates would’ve done. Hell, if Kyr and Course were to trade positions, it was likely what Kyr himself would do. Maybe if they had any more time, Course wouldn’t let it fly so soon, but he knew that they didn’t have time to argue about it any more than they already had. So he let Kyr heft him over one shoulder.

Every step Kyr took, Course seethed. Not only was this a humiliating position to be in, but it was entirely unnecessary. Course had personally told Kyr of how every metric said they should proceed, and Kyr ignored him at every turn. The fact that he had gotten into this situation at all in the first place was ridiculous. There was no reason to send him on the team against the SBDs, except for that Kyr wanted supervision for the squadmates that he felt unable to trust with such a task. Which was stupid, given that all three had stayed on task just fine. Apparently, they even managed to take out the SBDs while trying to recover Course from the grips of the Geonosian. Punch should have been the one to go with 8ball, 48, and Punt. A heavy gunner would not only be helpful against the SBDs, but he would have stood a much better chance at deterring an oversized bug from trying to make off with a clone.

Anger rolled steadily through Course’s chest by the time they got to the rendezvous—with three minutes to spare, maybe Course had had some room to argue. Kyr set Course down just before they were swamped by other troopers. How kind of him. A company’s worth of clones milled about, a sea of shiny white plastoid ever-shifting as everyone tried to keep organized and stay with their squad while boarding the dropships meant to take them back to transport.

Kyr continued instructing their unit like he was the only one who knew what to do. Course listened as a formality, then turned to head toward the transport with their assigned number. They’d all read the brief—not just Kyr.

The troopers managing the transports gave him a nod as he limped up to the open door. Course couldn’t identify them, assuming he’d ever met them, but he did pity them a bit. Administrative tasks like they were doing weren’t the most impressive on a combat report. Might land them a title, but it’d be a title on some low-level base, given they weren’t command-class. It wasn’t the worst thing Course could imagine happening to a clone, but to many, it was world-ending.

Maybe clones were dramatic by nature, and it skipped a generation with him?

The rest of the unit piled into the transport, Greens brushing elbows with Crowns, and in minutes the ship was humming to life. Back to Kamino.

Course looked forward to his report.

-- -- -- --

Tumblr formatting is agonizing but I will learn it. Anything for my boys.

Chapter 2 can be found here

[heartfullofleeches]

I saw a prompt about a human servant working for a bunch of yan vampires and whenever they see darling clean up there "meals" they lose it well what about when it gets hot around the castle/mansion so darling starts doing there work while wearing like shorts and a crop top or sometimes even shirtless

I can just imagine the vampires just drooling at the sight of darlings huge thighs as they walk up the stairs with the laundry or how toned they are from the labor they do every day it would probably go like this

Darling: [out in the sun trimming the hedges without a shirt]

Vampires: [all under beach umbrellas and drinking blood from wine glasses while admiring darling from afar] your doing great darling

Darling: [annoyed and sweaty] BITE ME!

Vampires: oh don't tempt us with a good time

Another day, another grueling shift beneath your smitten masters. You felt like some celebrity being followed by groupies or eye candy as a beach from how they watched and followed you around. Today just like the rest with them stalking your ever move, but there was the added bonus of a blistering sun beating down on your back.

You were out in the garden, picking tomatoes for dinner. Your normal work attire had been swapped for a tank top and a pair of shorts cut right around your upper thighs. The shirt was a size too bigger and gave on lookers a peak at your chest from the right angle. You gained some muscle from your years as their servant; the entire fit showing off that toned skin and leaving your masters barking like dogs.

"Looking great, Dearest!"

You glare at the one who just shouted; fangs exposed from their toothy smile as they go for a sip from the glass in hand. Another whistles; having finally out your attention. Your gang of stalkers sit around an umbrella covered table; watching you over the rim of their fancy shades. The sunlight was horrendous even from their spot in the shade, but they'd be damned if they missed the opportunity to see their favorite little human in your current state of dress. Such a tease could only be made better by one thing. They turn their backs to you.

"So who gets to do it?"

After a couple rounds of rock paper scissors, one of the vampires saunters over to you; umbrella and glass in hand. They lean over your shoulder as you pluck another tomato from its vine; mischief dripping from their entire being.

"How are things going, Y/n?"

"Fine." You state, throwing the tomato in the basket before wiping the sweat off your forehead. The vampire smirks, licking their fangs at the sight. How they wondered what that supple skin of yours taste after all this hard work. Just need one little thing to make you a real feast for the eyes. The vampire takes one final sip of their drink.

"You look exhausted, Y/n. We wouldn't want you to get a heat stroke. Let me cool you down."

You clinch your sheers; knowing your fate before it even happens. Your master tips their hand, the remainder of the blood in their glass splashing onto your body. It dyes your shirt a light red and makes it cling to your chest; beads of it dripping down your neck. The ice cold liquid is refreshing in the moment, but not enough to stop the boiling of your rage.

Both of your fists tighten; squeezing the ripe tomato in your opposite hand. Your master bends forward and laps up the juices that run down your arm.

"Perfection~"

The other lords holler in excitement; some having to hold down another before they run over to you without protection. You stand up; sticky from the sweat and blood that covered you. This only gives the overgrown bats more of a show as the pool of blood collected at the bottom of your shirt drips down your shorts and over your thighs. Frustated and growing sick of their calls, you pick up the basket of fruit and carry it over to them; slamming it down on the table.

"I'm taking my break. Try to stop me and I'll break your necks."

"Oh we'd love to see you try, Y/n."

"Need a little help getting undressed? Maybe with a shower?"

"I think I have some dishes left in my room. Could you grab them first before you get changed? They're on my bed."

You storm away, much to their disappointment; even if seeing you walk away was yet another treat.

-

You return to your room, getting dressed in your regular clothes. You were going to sweat your ass off, but it was worth it to avoid giving them what they wanted. A knock on your door alerts you to someone's arrival. You go to answer; one of your master's greeting you with a happy grin.

"Y/n, dear, how are things? I know you're taking a break, but the pool needs cleaning once it's over. Here's your uniform for it."

They hand you a pair of swim shorts - and nothing else. They're even shorter than the ones you put on earlier. You shut the door; turning in early for the day.

[teejaystumbles]

Anything you would like to share for Orc Hob would be fabulous!

I'd love to! I have been plotting away at it recently, putting some ideas in order.

For everyone new, the orc Hob AU is called Good Intentions and has spawned last October thanks to several prompts, "sigil" and "orc". I wrote a drabble and it was really good and so I proceeded to flesh it out into a whole story. It features orc Hob who has escaped Burgess, and wizard Dream who is also on the run from Burgess, despite being his former court wizard, for reasons he keeps to himself. Dream asks for Hob's help in retrieving his ruby and freeing his friend Jessamy. Hob agrees (for revenge reasons) and so they go on a quest together. It features enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, a Witcher-like road trip, sexual tension, beloved tropes and magic. 😁 Everyone who frequents my thread in the Mr Sadman server has probably already read this but I'll just share a bit. (It gets so confusing after a while, I can't remember what I shared here or only there 😅)

Over the course of the day Hob has shed clothes as the temperatures rose. It’s the high end of summer and Hob’s furs and leathers must be uncomfortable, Dream thinks. He valiantly tries not to stare as more and more of the olive green skin of his companion is revealed and keeps his eyes steadfastly on the road, but the urge to look is almost overwhelming. When they make camp it is Dream’s turn to keep first watch. The orc falls asleep quickly and Dream takes the time to finally look at him more closely. Hob’s green skin glows with an orange sheen in the firelight, illuminating a myriad of small scars on the orc’s arms and half-naked torso. A tattoo in blue-black ink adorns Hob’s left forearm, a tribal symbol of some sort. While intricate in its design, Dream’s gaze is drawn away from it by reddish bands winding around Hob’s wrists. He leans closer to get a better look.  They’re not tattoos. These are wounds left by rope or shackles, Dream guesses. They look painful, new enough to look raw in the middle and old enough that it’s clear they’ll never vanish completely. Dream looks over what he can see of Hob’s skin more thoroughly and finds more rope burns around his upper arms, his thighs, ankles and even around his neck, all of them ragged enough that they’ll clearly scar. “What did they do to you?” Dream murmurs to himself, barely holding himself back from reaching out and touching the orc’s blistered skin.

[wormswurld]

hang me up to dry // cattonquick, one-shot, 718 words, homoerotic wrestling in the summer heat; enjoy! 🌾

the sun hung high in the sky over the saltburn manor, its blistering beams making its way down on the wine-drunken boys underneath it.

damp with sweat, oliver and felix lie on their backs, basking in the sun's rays like any other day at saltburn. turning his gaze towards oliver, felix admired his sun-kissed companion, drinking in the sight of the low hanging swim trucks on his waist. just daring to be slipped off and discarded into the empty field surround them.

the longer he stared felix realized they were technically his swim trunks, but that didn't matter to him. him and ollie have been sharing clothes all summer, how could he ever be annoyed at his favorite person for wearing his clothes. it's all he ever wanted.

"what are you thinking about olls, you look.." felix voice trailed off as he struggled to look for the right word. to be truthful, ollie didn't look like anything in particular, perfect of course, but felix just wanted to break the silence between them. having to hear ollie's voice fill his ears. always wanting to hear whatever oliver had to say. no matter it be the good, the bad, or the ugly. especially the ugly.

"i look like what felix?" oliver turned his face towards the boy beside him, resting on his cheek onto his sticky arm. his hair messily hair plastered to his forehead, mouth slightly agape, felix thought ollie could never look more beautiful.

smirking, felix thought he would have some fun with his ollie. fuck around with him a little bit. "oh nothing..." felix sighed, waving his hand in the air to dismiss his previously unfinished thought. oliver cracked his neck, looking at felix predatorily. he knew felix was fucking with him, but he had to know what he was going to say to him.

"oi!" oliver said accusingly, "what you gonna say?" his scouse accent coming out in full force as he spoke. this in turn making felix chuckle as he ogled at oliver's mouth.

"didn't know you were so fiesty ollie" felix chuckled, avoiding oliver's comment just to piss him off more. he knew the hold he had the boy and just had to push him further. push him towards the edge. felix began to make his way towards oliver, crawling on his knees.

oh god. oliver began to back up, attempting to escape felix's darkening gaze. he needed a back up plan and one fast. "felix..." oliver’s wavered, his guard almost fully down. brain short-circuiting, he was unable to comprehend what was going to happen to him.

“something wrong oliver?” felix questioned, licking his lips menacingly the closer he got towards his legs. sighing heavily, oliver flickered stare towards felix’s lips now wet with spit. fuck. what was he supposed to now? sit here and take this? no way, he couldn’t let felix win, at least not yet he couldn’t.

properly sitting up, oliver nervously forced himself closer to felix, breath cooling felix’s slight sunburnt cheeks. he knew he had the upper hand now, or so he thought.

tilting his head slightly, oliver curled his lips into a tight smile. “fuck off felix” he spat, maintaining eye contact with the tall man before him. before felix could even comprehend what ollie said to him he was quick to pounce on the boy. their clumsy limbs knocking into each other as they both wrestled, felix now slotting his knee between oliver's legs as a means of subduing his violent thrashing.

the two fought for dominance, neither of them willing to go down without a fight. though, it was proven no use for oliver quick, already being pinned to the grassy earth beneath him; felix made a self-congratulatory sigh. finally, he had ollie right where he wanted him.

breathless, oliver scanned felix's devilish features, utterly captivated by his eyebrow that glistened with sweat. the same sweat that threatened to drop onto his reddened face. the purest form of holy water. a sacred christening. my god he was flawless.

“are you gonna behave yourself?” felix teased, raising his eyebrows questionably at the panting boy beneath him.

“i dunno felix..” oliver replied gruffly, over enunciating every syllable of the older boy's name. “…are you?” his face plastered with a shit eating grin. oh, felix was gonna enjoy this.

[lady-pug]

Warm Sand, Soft Hands

Summary: As you and Din try and help Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens against the Great Krayt Dragon, a split second decision from Din’s part might just change everything and leave you heartbroken. Heartbroken and furious.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word count: 3,7k

Warnings: this one is quite angsty, plus a few descriptions of injuries (burns and blisters), but nothing further than that

Notes: okay, this is my first time ever posting on tumblr (other than a few reblogs, that is). I’ve only just gotten around to creating an account and I’m currently working on adding all of my already existing works on here. So I really hope you enjoy this! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

This work is part of a series, but all of the parts can be read as standalone one-shots (they are posted in non-chronological order). Reader’s gender not specified.

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Din couldn’t possibly discern what was wrong with you. You had been quiet for the entirety of the ride, your hands loosely wrapped around his waist. On more than one occasion he'd had to hold tightly onto your forearms while going over a dune, otherwise you certainly would have been thrown off the speeder. While he knew you weren’t particularly fond of Tatooine, too many bad memories tarnishing the planet for you, you had been fine when you first landed.

Once the speeder came to a stop near the entrance to the sarlacc pit you quickly hopped off, barely looking at him, and turned to move towards Vanth. But Din was faster and quickly grabbed your wrist before you could take a single step. Damn those bounty hunter reflexes. 

“Is everything alright?” he said, almost reverently “You seem tense.”

Shaking your head you tried to ease him, and yourself, with a strained smile.

“It’s nothing, Mando. No need to worry.”

“You know I always worry.” that seemed to make your smile shift to a more genuine one.

“I just-” you sighed “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“About what?”

“This!” you opened your arms and gestured around you in frustration “all of this! Slaying a krayt dragon is madness!” your voice dropped almost to a whisper “That thing could kill us all.”

His heart clenched at the look of pure fear in your eyes. Yes, it was madness, it would probably get messy really quickly but he had to do this. Too many lives were at risk if they didn’t kill this dragon now.

“You know I hate this as much as you do” now he was the one to sigh  “but we need to do this. The whole town and the Tuskens are depending on us.”

A sad smile appeared on your face.

“I know.”

You nodded at him and went to walk away but he held you in place with a hand to your upper arm.

“I won’t let anything happen to you” his voice was soft, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing up and down your arm “I promise.”

You chuckled halfheartedly.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

His thumb came to a halt mid rub as his heart skipped a beat. 

“Be careful out there, Mando.”

He gave your upper arm a light squeeze.

“You too, Cyar’ika.”

“How is that thing not dead?!” the Weequay bartender shouted over the deafening roar of the krayt dragon. The giant beast had managed to somehow dodge the explosion and crawled its way up a cliff. Sickly green acidic goo was projectiled from the creature’s stomach, getting a much better range than before.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake!” 

You knew from the moment you accepted Din’s (back then known as Mando) offer to be his live-in mechanic/nanny for The Child that this wouldn’t be a normal job. You just knew you would have to fend off bounty hunters, just like you had with Calican, and occasionally patch The Mandalorian up after a job gone wrong. But this certainly wasn’t on the job description. 

“I’m so asking Mando for a raise.” (not that you needed it, having him and the baby in your life was already payment enough on its own).

Out of the corner of your eye you could see two figures fly up towards the dragon. Din and Vanth landed on a slope and started shooting but even that didn’t work, as the dragon went back underground.

Disorientated, you, Tuskens and townsfolk started frantically looking around trying to predict where the dragon would pop up next. Turns out that was a little bit too close to where you were currently standing. You tried to fire your blaster at it but nothing seemed to work as it kept coming closer to you. You heard your name being shouted somewhere behind you.

“Get out of there!” Din’s modulated voice barely registered over the thumping of your heart on your ears. Sprinting away as the dragon came in your direction, you stumbled over your feet a safe distance away.

Suddenly it changed its course. It started crawling towards Din, Cobb and… a bunch of explosives tied up to a bantha.

“Smart, Mando. Very smart.”  

But your inner celebration was short lived. Din hit Cobb’s jetpack, making him fly away. But Din didn’t move; he wasn’t moving even as the dragon got closer and closer. In the few moments it took for you to realize what was happening and will your legs to start working again it was too late. 

Your feet felt glued to the ground. Your breath hitched and you felt as if your heart had stopped beating. Din’s plan had worked: the krayt dragon had devoured the bantha and with it, your Mandalorian.

You faintly heard someone screaming as the beast, seemingly satisfied, retreated back under the sand. It took you a few moments and two pairs of robe clad arms holding you back for you to realize you were the one screaming. Soft sand came in contact with the fabric of your trousers as your knees buckled.

It hurt. Maker, everything hurt. Your chest was on fire and you couldn’t inhale without being acutely aware of every particle of sand mixed with air as you tried to fill your lungs with oxygen. But it kriffing hurt. Something warm was running down your cheeks, blurring your vision and rolling off your chin and onto the sand. Tears. You were crying, sobbing, having witnessed your Mandalorian die a second time. 

The blood rushing in your ears almost led you to miss the distinct rumble of the krayt dragon re-emerging. Not again you thought. That thing already took too much from you, how was it not dead yet?

But then you saw something: as the dragon shot upwards something flew out of its mouth through an electrical storm, followed by the thing exploding up in flames. No, not something, someone. You squinted your eyes to try and get rid of the blur of tears against the harsh sun and realized… it was Din! He was alive and safe and very much not dead. 

As he landed before the dead dragon both the people from Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens started to congratulate and cheer for him. In that moment, the relief you felt just seconds ago from seeing he was okay suddenly shifted to a strange sense of embarrassment and anger. Your face burned in humiliation as you scolded yourself. Your tears previously born out of sorrow turned to ones of anger. Maker, you felt pathetic. Crying over a man who didn’t seem to give two bantha fodders about his own safety, about who he’d leave behind if he died or about you for all it seemed.

Getting off the ground you decided to give your- (No, he wasn’t yours to begin with) -the Mandalorian a piece of your mind.

He did it. He slayed a kriffing krayt dragon, a giant one at that. As his feet touched the ground he felt a small twinge of pride as the villagers cheered him on, but it was quickly snuffed out and replaced by relief. He only delivered the final blow afterall, it took a lot of combined effort from everyone to kill this thing, the people from Mos Pelgo, the Tuskens, Vanth, you… Maker, you were great out there. Well, you were always great, at least in his eyes, always making sure the kid was safe and protected. Where were you by the way? 

As he turned around in search of you he finally spotted you. But something wasn’t… quite right. You didn’t look happy or relieved, like he thought you would be. You looked downright pissed.

“Cyar’ika-”

The last thing he expected to happen was for you to shove him away from you. But his armor was still covered in stomach acid from the dragon and the moment your hands came in contact with his breastplate you pulled them away with a wail of agony.

“Cyar’ika, what are you doing?! Here let me-” as he took a step towards you and went to grab your hands in order to check them over you stumbled away from him.

“No!” you tucked your injured hands close to your chest “Don’t call me that!”

That made him freeze. He always called you that, ever since that fateful day in Nevarro, you were his cyar’ika. You may not have known what it meant but he knew you could easily guess it was something affectionate. 

“Are you kriffing stupid?!” you shouted at him, to which he stayed silent. “Why would you do that?! What were you thinking?”

“I saw an opportunity and decided to take it.” he mumbled after a moment, still a little uncertain about this whole interaction. 

You scoffed. That’s such a Mando thing to say.

“You jumped in the mouth of a Great Krayt Dragon, Mando!” you were practically shaking, vibrating with rage “You clearly didn’t think this through, did you?! Didn’t think about who you were leaving behind?”

He was about to retort, commenting on how he didn’t jump into its mouth, he was only holding the bantha and just happened to be in the way of its jaws when he saw it. Just a quick glimpse, barely there, but he managed to see it, his heart clenching as he realized what he was seeing. Beneath all the anger, the rage, was fear. The same look of unadulterated fear he saw on your face right before the fight began was back, and a lot stronger. Maker, he was so stupid, how could he be so dense? Of course you were scared, you just watched him die, again. It was the second time you thought he was dead in a too short period of time.

“I-I’m sorry, Cyar’ika, I-” you shook your head, your eyes turning misty and clouded, and walked away before you broke down in front of him.

Din felt something warm, uncomfortable and almost suffocating grow on his chest, crawling up his throat: it was guilt. He felt so guilty, he was trying to protect everyone, protect you, but he ended up hurting you in the process, after you specifically told him to be careful because you were worried about him. But no, he had to go and get himself eaten alive. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were feeling, first having left him to die (upon his request) in Nevarro and now this. He wanted to run after you, fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness, even if he felt like he didn’t deserve it, he would spend the rest of his days groveling if it came to it. But he knew you needed space.  

His inner struggle was interrupted by a hand being clapped down on his shoulder.

“Trouble in paradise?” he could smack Vanth’s smirk right off his face.

After having harvested the dragon for its meat (and one lucky tusken finding an incredibly large pearl in its guts) it was time for you to leave and go back to Mos Pelgo where you would be staying until morning (“Only someone with a deathwish crosses the Dune Sea at night, Din.” you had told him). He approached you oh so slowly as if you were a scared wild animal that would flee the moment he spoke too loud or too fast.

“Are you ready to go?”

You barely looked at him, the only indication you even heard him was a slight tilt of your head. Was that how most people felt when talking to him?

When you didn’t answer, he sighed. Sensing the overall discomfort, Vanth chimed in from where he was tidying his speeder (if you could even call the engine of a podracer that).

“You could ride with me.” he said, taking a look at Mando, but quickly turned to address you again “If you want.”

That didn’t sit right with Din. He wanted you to ride with him, so he could know you were safe. So he could keep you safe. But when you nodded, he could only sigh as he watched you climb behind Vanth and speed off. A sad coo sounded from the rucksack strapped to the back of his speeder, as the baby’s ears sagged pitifully.

“I know, kid.” he addressed the kid, who was confusedly staring at him “I kriffed up.”

Holding onto Vanth during the ride back proved to be nearly impossible. Ugly blisters had started forming on the angry red skin of your palms, making them really sensitive to the touch. The only solution you found was locking your wrists onto one another circled around Cobb’s waist, resulting in him having to ride very slowly so you wouldn’t get catapulted off the speeder.

The slower pace was quite a nice change from the usual deafening engine roar as you could actually hear yourself think for once. After riding for a few miles Vanth’s voice broke you out of your trance.

“I get that you care about him.”

You knew exactly who he was talking about.

“I do.” you sighed “What are you getting at, Vanth?”

A beat of silence followed before he spoke up again.

“He cares about you too, you know?”

You blinked once, twice before his words finally registered and you looked down at your lap. Only a couple of moments later you found the strength to answer.

“I know.” a bitter laugh escaped past your lips before you could stop it “That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?.”

“Come again?”

A sharp warm sting burned in your eyes but you refused to let the tears brimming in them spill over.

“He cares about me and the kid. A lot. But he doesn’t seem to care about himself in the slightest!” you protested frustrated “What does he think would happen to us if he’s gone? I would get stranded on this Maker forsaken planet, with no credits and a green magic baby to take care of!” 

He stayed silent for a second before speaking up softly.

“I don’t think those are the real reasons you are so upset over this.”

You swallowed your tears some more.

“How does he think it would feel if he… how I would feel if he did…”

You couldn’t say it. Die your brain filled in for you. Din’s had multiple close calls, more than any person should have to go through in their entire lifetime. You understood that his job came with its fair share of dangerous situations, and had even been there to witness some of them. But he didn’t need to jump headfirst into it like he did today. He didn’t get out of the way, even when the dragon was charging right at him. There would certainly be another shot at killing the beast, there would be another option, but he didn’t get out of the way. He was ready to die. And it wasn’t the first time. Back in Nevarro he was ready to sacrifice himself so the lot of you could escape through the tunnels. That had absolutely broken your heart, even if you hadn’t known him for long. You had never wanted to feel like that again. 

How could he possibly think you would be okay if he was gone? You finally had something good, the closest thing to a little family after so long on your own-

And then it hit you. Din wasn’t being reckless just for the sake of it; when he was originally traveling alone he would just do whatever it took to finish the job as quickly as possible to just get it over with and be done with it. He was so used to traveling on his own, to being alone, that he often forgot that there were people who cared about him now. Maker, you felt so stupid; while you originally meant it as an angry insult, you quickly realized that he indeed did not think how you would feel if he died.

A deep feeling of shame started crawling up your chest and constricting your throat. Feeling childish for your outburst and angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner, while still feeling upset over thinking he was gone for good this time. You overreacted, you told yourself, and guilt was threatening to consume you whole. How were you going to face Din again? He probably thought you were just a pathetic, whining child, exactly how you felt right now. The pain on your hands didn’t feel so bad now with the way your heart was clenching painfully tight on your chest.

So absorbed in your own spiraling guilt you didn’t realize Cobb had already parked the speeder in front of the cantina back in town. Swinging a leg over the side of the vehicle, he hopped off but before walking away he gently grabbed your wrists, wary of your injured hands.

“He just did what he did to protect us. To protect you.”

And that was the nail on the coffing of your shame and guilt. The tears you were so desperately trying to hold back started cascading down your cheeks, a sob lodged in your lungs. Getting out of the speeder as fast as you could without toppling over in the sand you quickly ran inside the cantina and up the stairs towards the small room you were sharing with Din. In your haste to get to your room and under the covers you didn't even notice the black visor of a helmet staring your way from the bar.  

Finally in the safety of your shared room you leaned heavily back against the door at last acknowledging the turmoil of emotions swimming in your head and in your heart. While finally letting yourself cry freely, you couldn’t give in completely to the sobs that wanted so desperately to fly up your throat as anyone could hear it from downstairs. Instead, you felt yourself slide against the door and onto the ground, shoulders shaking and head tucked between your bent knees. 

After what felt like hours you heard a hesitant, almost silent knock on the door you're still slumped against. Your head was pounding from holding back sobs and you didn’t feel like speaking to anyone but that would be just downright rude. Getting up and swiping across your cheeks to get rid of the evidence of your despair, even though your tears had already dried, you opened the door, instantly regretting it.

Mando’s helmet was unreadable as he stared at you, his visor giving nothing away. Opening the door wider and stepping back into the room you allowed him in, but you kept your back to him. You heard the door close softly behind him and his boots coming further into the room, followed by a shuffling sound, as if he was going through his things. Or maybe he was going through your things. Oh, Maker, was he packing your stuff? Was he going to kick you out? Would he really-

“Let me look at your hands.” his stern yet soft voice cut through your inner rambling. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last one you were expecting, prompting you to turn your body sideways and glance at him out of the corner of your eyes.

“What?”

“Let me take a look at your hands, Cyar’ika.” turning fully towards him you caught a glimpse of a medkit clutched in his hands and a wave of relief washed over you. Nodding, you sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to start assessing your injuries. He knelt down in front of you, gingerly grabbing your hands, holding them in his own, palms facing up. A small hiss escaped from his modulator as he pulled out a bottle of bacta spray to apply over the blisters.

He was handling you with such care that it made you feel guilty all over again. You couldn’t look him in the visor, choosing instead to keep your gaze fixed on his gloved hands. The cooling sensation of the bacta was wonderful against your palms, but did nothing to soothe the ache in your heart. He was being so gentle, why was he being gentle?

Din kept working on your hands, hoping to start fixing some of his faults. A sudden whimper made his head snap up so quickly it almost gave him a whiplash. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered. Although you wouldn’t look directly at him, he could see the trail of crystalline tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Din, I’m so sorry!” he could hear the desperation in your voice.

“What for, Cyar’ika?” he asked in the gentlest voice he could muster, the one he often used when talking to the kid. 

“I-I was so rude to you a-and-'' your hiccups cut right through him, as he realized you blamed yourself for whatever your mind had conjured.

“No, Cyar’ika, no.” he shook his head and gently brought your hands close to his chest, almost tucked under his chin “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“B-but-”

“No buts. You didn’t do anything wrong.” oh how he wished he could kiss each and every one of your knuckles right now “If anything I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who made you worry.”

His words brought a small smile to your tired face. He stood up and brought your trembling frame into his arms, your face tucked safely into the beskar of his breastplate as you finally allowed yourself to fully cry.

“I just-” you sobbed before whispering the next sentence, which promptly broke his heart in a million tiny pieces “I don’t want to lose you.”

He shook his head. 

“You won’t” he whispered back “I promise. Ni ceta, Cyar’ika. Ni ceta.” he felt like he could cry as well.

Din laid his head on top of yours, gently whispering “I’m sorry.” over and over. 

As you slowly calmed down, you nuzzled further into his arms. Thinking with a clearer head made you realize that, while dangerous situations like the one you faced today would continue to happen, he would always come back to you, and you would always find a safe place in his arms at the end of the day. Now he had something worth coming home to.

Bonus: *gasp* “Where’s the kid?” “With Vanth at the bar.” *stare* *sigh* “Which thinking about it now doesn’t sound like a great idea at all.” *giggle*