#with too cold hands and feet but blazing hot head and neck

[lyriumsings]

fever finally broke from 101 to 99 praying tomorrow i can finally enjoy not being buried under school work

[diejager]

could you maybe do more of the Phoenix series or is that discontinued? But if you're still working on it can you maybe do something like monster TF 141 use hunter as a heater? Ik if it doesn't make any sense but like monster TF 141 are on a mission and its horribly cold and they're actually cold so hunter just walks up and turns into a phoenix? and just starts heating up the room 141 is in. idk I just have had this idea in my head for a while

Cw: human heating, tell me if I missed any. Note: Nope! It’s still on going, well, at least the original Au of the Phoenix hybrid!reader spinoff.

“I’ll have a bloody word with the tosser who sent us here,” Soap hissed, body wracked with tremors as he breathed into his mittened hands, hoping that the small bit of heat would warm him just a bit more than the failing heating system of their Siberian  safehouse.

They had planed to rest and warm up their temporary residence while Price took Ghost and you to survey the area, all warmly covered but mostly immune to such cold temperature. A dragon rarely needed anything other than the beating fire in their heart, kindled and powerful; a wraith, long since dead, had no worry about feeling cold or warm, only hunger and anger; and a phoenix, whose body was stuck in a perpetual cycle of life and death, had no fear of being cold when they were an embodiment of life’s fire. 

It was only natural that Price took the only people who could withstand the harshness of Siberia for a long and careful inspection when the others would freeze and shake in their thick boots and warm coats. They safehouse looked old, surfaces covered in a thin layer of dust, shelves filled with canned food - both expired and unexpired- and walls and floors as frozen as the loud winds blowing against the thick windows. It wasn’t much of a surprise that something would malfunction, the soviet era building left to appear rotten and forgotten to fit it’s intended use, and it seemed to lack any sort of upkeep. 

“We’re freezing our arses off in here!” Soap growled out, leaning closer to Gaz’s side to steal more warmth from under his wing, the soft feathers all ruffled, “Can’t even-”

Crunch

The two perked up, hands immediately reaching for their weapons, bodies tense and ready for a fire fight until your head popped in, huffing about the melted snow soaking your clothes. They jumped to their feet, running to your side for a lick of warmth that oozed off your skin. You froze at the grabbing hands, pulling you to the cold sofa and pushed under a mass of groaning and moaning bodies, happily soaking in your fire.

“Let me- ” you squirmed between them, shuffling out from under them to stretch your arms and back.

The four watched your neck crack with a wince, flames erupting from your feet, wild and bright embers licking at your skin until it engulfed you in a fiery blaze. It was both too hot to touch and too strong to approach, a fire that would threaten to burn if they touched you. It worked to protect you from an early death while you shifted into the majestic bird you were, a gentle flame in the form of orange and yellow feathers, softer than any silk and warmer than any suns. 

In your place stood a phoenix, lashes fluttering while your flapped your wings, stretched backwards to scratch the itch from the lack of use. You cooed, preening under their awed expressions before you flew back in your prior position, body heat growing hotter and hotter, strong enough to warm up the entire room. 

“Thank you, Hunter,” Gaz smiled at you, a sweet and grateful grin that made your feathers shyly ruffle up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[corroded-hellfire]

I've got this image in my head of very pregnant!AYW reader sitting outside with her feet in a kiddie pool, letting the older boys splash around and keep her cool on a hot day. Maybe a cooler full of frozen treats at her side.

I have had this one in my ask box forever because I wanted to write something I’d be happy with and I think I’m there lol. I hope it makes you happy as well 😘

Words: 1.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Of course. The August that you’re seven months pregnant is the hottest summer Hawkins has had in over fifty years. Of course.

Eddie could see how the heat was getting to you. Sweat would dot your forehead just moments after you’d step outside. Your ankles had swollen to almost double the size. It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that you were a little more irritable than usual as well. But your husband wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort you. Usually, his way of comforting you included wrapping you up in his arms but the one time he’d attempted to do that you’d given him a death glare that blazed hotter than the weather. He’d learned his lesson after that: no touching when the temperature is above a hundred degrees. 

One early Saturday afternoon, you and Luke are eating lunch while Eddie and Ryan run a few errands. Luke had wanted to go too, but ever since you started your third trimester, Eddie didn’t like the idea of leaving you by yourself. 

It’s quiet between you and your ten-year-old son when the back door bangs open, making you jump and swivel around in your seat–which was no easy task. Perspiration runs down Eddie’s forehead, Ryan’s own golden brown hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture. Patches of Ryan’s gray shirt are black and clinging to his skin from the sweat. If Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt weren’t so dark, you know you’d see the same thing on him. Despite how hot and sweaty they both look, they both have smiles on their faces and Eddie looks quite proud of himself.

“I f’ought oo were goin’ to da store,” you say around a mouth full of pasta salad.

“We did,” Eddie said, breaths labored.

“And we set up a surprise for you!” Ryan adds, his beaming grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“And me?” Luke asks optimistically, craning his neck to look over at his father and brother.

“Actually, kind of,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Come on.” Your husband waves the both of you over towards the back door before remembering he should help you up out of the chair–even though you’re capable of doing it yourself. 

The boys both run ahead of you as Eddie stays back with your waddling pace. It feels like no sooner than your bare foot hits the grass of the yard than sweat begins to break out along your hairline. You swear you’ll never complain about the winter being too cold again. 

“It’s small,” you hear Luke say. 

Your eyes catch on the short inflatable kiddie pool set up in the middle of the backyard, two white and blue striped lawn chairs set up beside it, and a large red cooler between them. The garden hose is hanging inside the pool, the green tube writhing like a snake as the water whooshes in to fill the empty space. 

“Cause it’s a kiddie pool, duh,” Ryan replies to his brother. 

“I thought,” Eddie starts, reaching up to rub your shoulders before catching himself, not wanting to make your discomfort worse, “you could sit out here with your feet in the nice cold water. Might help your ankles, too. And you know these two monkeys are always splashing so you’re bound to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Hey,” Luke protests, but Ryan nudges him with his elbow because they both know that their father is right. 

“And…” Eddie takes your hand and gently leads you closer to the chairs, where he opens the cooler that’s nestled between them. Inside there are different flavors of ice pops, ice cream bars, and cold drinks, all enveloped in gallons of ice that have a pleasant chill wafting off them. 

Words become trapped in your throat. Your wonderful husband did all of this for you just because he knows how the heat has been making you feel lately. And after you’ve been a pain in the ass. This would’ve made you emotional even if the hormones didn’t beat you to the punch. 

“Eddie,” you say, all other speech cut off as your bottom lip begins to wobble.

“Uh oh,” Luke whispers.

“No, could be a good thing,” Ryan mumbles back quietly. He was slightly better at understanding the emotional aspect of hormones than his little brother. 

“This is so sweet,” you say, turning to cup your husband’s face in your hands. 

“You’ve been hard at work cooking that bun in the oven,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Oven needs some cooling down though, she’s getting overheated.”

“Ahem,” you hear from behind you. Ryan moves into your peripheral vision, and you turn your head to look at him, sliding your hands down to Eddie’s shoulders as you do. The eldest brother is clearly holding something behind his back, and you scrunch up your brow as you look at him.

“Whatcha got?” you ask.

Eddie huffs out a small chuckle and presses a kiss to your temple before saying, “Ryan found something at the store he says is on every ad for the beach.”

“You bought me sand? The ocean?” you tease the boy.

Ryan rolls his eyes, another reminder that he’s a preteen now. 

“No,” he says. From behind him, Ryan brandishes a floppy hat, and he is certainly right—a woman is wearing one of those in every ad for the beach.

“Ryan, I love it!” you exclaim with a giggle. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you waddle over the few steps to the boy. He holds the straw hat out to you, a bright grin on his face at your happiness. 

“You know,” you say as you accept the hat from him, “I’d bend down so you could put it on my head but then I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.”

“Like crowning a princess!” Luke adds as Ryan laughs.

“Well,” your husband says, coming up behind you, “it’s a good thing I’m taller than Ryan then, huh? Or we could’ve just made Luke help you back up.”

Eddie plucks the hat from your grasp, the straw scratching lightly against your fingertips as he pulls it away. He steps in front of you, and you keep your head level, only raising your eyes to watch Eddie’s pale, toned arms lift to place the floppy hat on top of your head gently. 

“Your Highness,” Eddie says, bowing his head. Your giggle makes Eddie grin as he gestures towards the lawn chairs. “Your throne awaits.”

Twenty minutes later it’s as if the summer heat were merely an annoying insect that you’re only somewhat aware of. Even though the chill water of the miniature pool only goes up to midcalf, sloshes of water have hit you all the way up to your neck. The cool beads of moisture feel like heaven as they meander down your red tank top, though. The denim shorts you’re wearing will weigh a ton later since the boys’ splashing has gotten them so wet, but Eddie’s such a pro at taking your clothes off that he could use a little challenge this time. 

Luke and Ryan manage to find games to play in the small pool—after Luke’s failed attempt at Marco Polo, anyway. Toy boats glide through the water, a few of them on the grass from flying overboard. The two boys shout but they’re outside and having fun, and it’s nice to hear. 

The sound of the back door slamming shut reaches you as you tilt your head back, protected from the sun by Ryan’s thoughtful gift and the sunglasses you grabbed when you got changed. Eyes closed, you listen to footsteps in the grass as Eddie walks your way from the house. They come to a stop and you sense as he crouches down next to you. Lazily, you loll your head to the side and crack your eyes open. 

“How’re my girls?” Eddie asks, placing his right hand over the soaked red shirt covering your baby bump.

“Mmm, good,” you hum. “She’s very happy you bought strawberry shortcake bars.”

“I’m glad she liked them,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “What about you, princess? How do you feel?”

You pretend to consider his question for a moment before speaking.

“Kiss me?” 

You pucker your lips and there’s no hesitation as your husband leans in and gently presses his own against yours.

“Perfect. Now I’m perfect.”

[xoluvx]

I know you probably have a lot of requests lol😭 but I am FEENING for a little pool action with dom billie and fem reader 🙏🏾

um yes? duh yes!!!

“you won’t,” you teased pulling at the bottom of your shirt. billie watched you carefully, almost leaning back as she took in the sight of your silhouette in the dim outdoor lights.

billie shook her head prodding the inside of her mouth with her tongue in a ‘don’t test me’ look. she mimicked your movements. fingers curling around the bottom of her shirt as she tugged the fabric over her body. hair cascading down her shoulder. her pink lacy bra left very little to the imagination and her jeans hung low revealing the matching underwear. you swallowed reaching for your jeans. fingers toying with the buttons. billie reciprocating the action never once taking her eyes off you.

when your jeans pooled around your feet, you swore you could hear a change in billie’s breathing. it was ragged, like she was gasping for air but holding her breath at the same time.

she was the first to wrap her arms around her torso, unhooking her bra until her breasts spilled out of the fabric. until it was discarded on the floor. then hands tugged at her underwear and the little lacy thing slipped down her legs and she was standing in front of you completely naked.

“you won’t” she spit your own words back at you with a cocky grin on her face. she tilted her head, hands on her hips expectantly. nodding you raised your brow in a ‘watch me’ gesture and your shaky hands reached behind your body releasing your breasts from its hostage, your underwear quickly joining your bed of clothes.

billie bit her lip and even in the dim light you could see her eyes devouring you. her lips parting as she inhaled deeply. you smiled playfully before turning around running towards the pool. you didn’t care that it was late. didn’t care that you were skinny dipping with your friend. didn’t care that the water felt like icicles on your skin because she followed close behind. water splashing on your back when she dove in.

when you turned, she was so close you could feel her breathing on your face. her eyes piercing into your soul. the gravitational pull was undeniable. your fingers spread on her shoulder. hers on your waist. your hand hot on her skin trailed up her neck, bodies treadding closer until your lips were only centimeters apart.

then she laughed. laughed wickedly in your face as her hand wrapped around your neck. your eyes bulging at the sudden contact. heat consuming your body even in the freezing water.

“i don’t think so,” she snarled trailing her thumb up and under your jaw. palm pressing on your throat. your whimpers stifled by her grip.

“you’re such a fucking tease,” she whispered, lips close to your ear. your eyelids fluttered as your brain tried to process what was happening but you felt it between your legs. the familiar wetness that flooded between your thighs whenever she was around.

“you’re cute when you’re desperate,” she smirked and brushed her lips along your ear. a whimper escaping your body as you melted into her. legs too weak to tread. you were holding on to her body, only staying above surface at her mercy.

then it all happened so quick. her hands cupping your jaw. her leg between your thigh, back pressed against the cold pool wall. lips blazing on your neck. eyes shut as you moaned moving your hips on her thigh.

her hands trailed down to your hips holding you still as she pressed her thigh to your pussy. she ground your hips on her skin moving your hips in a rhythmic movement that had you moaning as you tossed your head back. then her fingers were hot on your pussy slipping into your entrance and she groaned feeling them glide so perfectly between your folds.

you begged and moved your hips pulling her fingers in further and further, chest rising. tits bouncing as your body moved. then her tongue was on your nipple and you trembling under her grip. your hands ran up her back as you pushed yourself down on her hand feeling her so deep you could swallow her fingers whole.

your fingers rested at the nape of her neck, pushing her face down on your breasts as she licked and nibbled scattering future reminders of your night together. bodies lapping the clear water, creating little waves as you moaned and held on to her for dear life. so close. so close you were about to explode.

[grandlinedreams]

|| did i make myself cry a little w this? Yeah

|| warnings: mentions of nightmares and light depiction of a panic attack, vomiting, Cassian is a good beeb, reader was UTM w Rhys

Cassian is dying. You know because he's in front of you, face down in a puddle of his own blood. There's so much of it, choking you with the copper tang ㅡ and you can do nothing to help him.

She knows it too, because Amarantha's eyes are blazing with cruel, triumphant light at the way your face drains of color. She steps towards Cassian, watches you flinch as she stands in the mess of his blood and bends, hauling him up just enough that you can see his face. "This," she says, "is what happens when you disobey me. I will take everything you love and destroy it in front of you."

It's dark when you lurch upright, dark enough that for one horrifying moment, you can't tell where you are. But then your senses are settling, registering the glimmer of stars outside the window, the billow of air that cools the sweat beading on your forehead. You lean forward, hand clapped over your mouth as you try to steady your breathing, the uneven jump of your heart.

You aren't there anymore. You're home, back in Velaris, back withㅡ

Weight shifts beside you, a hand that sweeps out to meet your body ㅡ and then Cassian is sitting up too, blinking at you as you stare mutely at him. "[Name]?" His brow furrows, concern tinging his tone. "You okay?"

No, you want to tell him, to laugh at the incredulity of being anything like okay. You haven't been in fifty years ㅡ and you're not sure you ever will be. Amarantha is gone, but you're not sure you'll ever get back what she took from you.

(Cassian's blood, thick and hot and staining everything it touches. The floor, his leathers, your skin because this is your fault, all your faultㅡ)

"[Name]?" Worry makes Cassian's voice sharp, and you flinch when he reaches for you. Your stomach lurches.

"I think I'm going to be sick," you rasp, and then you're on your feet, darting for the sanctuary of the bathroom. Your knees hit cold stone as your stomach empties, the violent twist of it as you gag and choke, eyes stinging with tears as your body forces everything up until there's nothing but spit and bile.

Your forehead meets the cool edge of the basin, chill sliding down your spine as you pant. You can't breathe ㅡ too tight, not enough air as darkness closes in on you, just likeㅡ

A hand meets your back, as warm as the scent that follows as Cassian kneels, reaching to pull you to him. "Breathe," he says softly, "copy me. Can you do that?"

You offer a shuddering gasp and a nod, fingers curling and uncurling as you fight to follow the steady rise and fall of Cassian's chest. He's patient with you, waiting until your breathing has steadied to push sweat-damp hair out of your face.

"Nightmare?" You nod, and he guides your head to his neck, cradling you to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head, and his grip tightens on you protectively as he gets to his feet, guiding you back towards your shared bed. It worries him, the amount of nightmares you've had since coming home ㅡ but neither you nor Rhys will talk about what happened. He doesn't blame you, he can only imagine the horrors you've seen and endured.

Cassian pulls you to him, holding you as tightly as you'll allow, hand at your back and his lips in your hair. He doesn't know if you'll go back to sleep, or if you even can ㅡ so he holds you, for as long as you want him to.

[call-sign-shark]

In the Heat of the Night || Modern!Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: As if blazing summer nights weren’t already annoying enough, you’re here to make Arthur’s insomnia even worse… 

He's a former soldier and a drug addict trying to get better. You are an unhinged punk girl living in the streets. You weren't supposed to meet... And now Arthur's fate and yours are forever entangled. Check the Masterlist here if you wanna read more about AU Loose Cannon, Or how a blue-haired rebel wrecked a soldier’s life and stole his heart.

Words: 2.8K

TW: Quick allusions to sexual abuse

Notes: Each part is individual and can be read as one-shots in no particular order.

A growl reached your lips as you rolled on your side, for the sensation of the sofa’s leather sticking to your sweat-covered skin was deeply irritating. Prior to coming to this country, you had been told that summers in the United Kingdom were usually not that warm. Somehow, you believed in the ever-lasting cliché of the UK always being under clouds and rain. Yet,  here you were, soaked up despite wearing nothing but your underwear. No matter how the windows were open and how many times you gulped cold water like some kind of thirsty girl lost in the Sahara desert, the hot air still felt thick and suffocating. 

You’ve been trying to fall asleep for hours now, but the temperature was preventing you from doing so and nothing seemed to work to overcome it. Besides, the huge malinois that was literally sleeping on you did not help in cooling down. When Arthur offered to take you home he had warned you about sharing the sofa with his dog, Hannibal, so you were more or less expecting him to sleep somewhere at the end of the couch,  What you did not expect though was that the dog would use you like some kind of pillow. Bringing your hands to your face, fingers clenched on your own skin, you kept yourself from screaming in frustration.  Moreover, the maddening sound of the living room clock was seriously rattling your nerves. No — it was definitely too much to handle. Gently dragging yourself from under the malinois without waking him up, you decided to walk to the bathroom to sprinkle cold water all over your neck and arms in the hope it would cool you down. You discreetly made your way through the corridor, your bare feet ghosting the floor as you moved in darkness like a swift shadow. Suddenly, an odd sound caught your attention and made you stop. It was coming from Arthur’s bedroom, whose door had been left ajar.  Even if curiosity killed the cat, you could not help but slipped your blue-haired head into his bedroom to check what was the cause of this mysterious background noise.  Suddenly your eyes widened, for you witnessed something you hope you’d have never witnessed.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

Your voice roared so loudly in the room that Arthur sat up straight on the mattress in one movement, panic visible on his face and right hand ready to reach for his gun. The soldier’s piercing blue eyes had to scan you for a little while before his traumatized mind understood you were not an enemy coming to kill him, “Here we go…” Arthur’s shoulders relaxed. “What’s the matter now?! Can’t even sleep at night!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You screamed right away, storming into the bedroom. You were so infuriated that your skin heated up even more but you could not care less: what you had just seen deserved some immediate explanations, “You had a fan the whole time and you did not even tell me,” You said with the most outraged tone you could do, “Worst, you kept it for yourself and left me to die in the living room! You’re one fucking selfish motherfucker!” 

“Oi! Do I look like fookin’ Mother Theresa?! I  gave you a roof over your head and food on your plate! Can’t you survive without a fan? Now get yer ass out of my room, you damn crazy bitch!” He surprisingly yelled louder than you, his husky voice making the whole house shake. Still, you did not follow his order. When he saw that you weren’t moving, Arthur grabbed a pillow and threw it at your face with a perfect sniper aim, “And don’t you enter the room without knocking! Could have been jerking off and seeing your stupid face at that moment would have been a real turn-off!” The soldier grunted, just wanting to go back to sleep.

“The fuck did you just do? Are you crazy? You wanna die?” Your voice had become suddenly quieter when you emphasized each word of your sentence, right after that awful affront. In truth, you did not let him have the time to answer your question nor to insult you for you jumped on the bed as quickly as a jungle cat and immediately start to mercilessly beat him with another pillow, “THE FUCK DID YOU DO??” You repeated, giving in to your destructive rage — well, not that really destructive considering that your weapon was a soft and squishy pillow but still you did try to look convincing.

“FOOK!” Arthur’s hoarse voice exclaimed, more irritated than anything, “Stop it! Stop hitting me or you’ll regret it!” He tried to warn you but it had no effect — you were still trying to murder him through a great deal of pillow smacks. Little you know, handling your small and little body was something he could do with closed eyes. After all, he had beaten the shit out of a trained elite soldier, so a little psychotic Smurfette won’t impress him. But you were blinded by your rage, hence you did not take into account the fact he was part of the elite forces of Special Air Service. Nor did you notice the smooth way he positioned himself to, all of sudden, turn you around and overpower you without the slightest effort.  A little scream escaped from your lips as he dominated you. When you realized what had just happened it was already too late: you were firmly pinned to the bed, Arthur’s hands holding your wrists above your head and his body weight keeping you still, “What are ye gonna do now eh, little one?” He snarled, teeth bared and fury blazing in his sharp blue eyes. Now you were fucked. Your enraged pout suddenly turned into a shocked expression.

“Let me go!! Let me go!!” You screeched, wriggling like a snake under him to set yourself free but you knew it was vein.

Arthur’s lips stretched in a sadistic smile as he saw you struggling under his grip, “Did not expect you to be that weak eh?” He taunted, enjoying the moment and having fun now that the table had turned. Maybe it was time to teach you a little lesson? He brought his face closer to yours, his cold eyes diving into your irises and his scorching breath fanning over your face, “You know I could do everything I want with you now that you’re trapped in me bed? I could snatch your throat with my bare teeth… What do ye think, me cute little prey?” 

“Arthur, let me go!” The beating of your heart was now chaotic. It pounded so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage. You started to quiver, feeling trapped. After all, you were so tiny compared to him…

“Want me to eat you alive?”  He purred in your ear, grinning like a hungry wolf. His husky voice sent tremors down your spine.  

And suddenly, it was not anger that was burning in your eyes anymore… It was terror. Genuine terror that coursed through your veins and petrified your whole body, just like a doe in front of a car’s headlights. You felt his bruising grip painfully tightening around your wrists.

 “Please… Stop…” You managed to beg, despite the almost choking lump in your throat.  It was all it took for Arthur to grasp the desperate tone of your voice and stop teasing you the moment he understood he had taken it too far.

“Shit!” He cursed, freeing your wrists and moving from the top of you to sit on the bed, “I’m fookin’ sorry, stinky rat. I was just playin’ ye know?” Slightly panicked at the sight of tears in your eyes, Arthur gently pressed his hand on your shoulder and helped you sit next to him. Still, you remained silent, requiring a little while to calm the creeping anxiety that had started to draw you into a pit filled with venomous bad memories. “I was just playing, really. I would never hurt ye…” Arthur’s gravel voice broke the silence, coated with the softest tone you had ever heard. Now he was starting to get really worried — he would have preferred  you to curse at  him, scream or even kick him rather than face your freezing silence, “Please, don’t be scared of me.” Something broke in his voice. Arthur wanted so hard to hug you but he didn’t want to scare you more, “I would never …”

“I know.” You cut him. Gently coming back to your senses, you looked at him and soon notice the gleam of fear that was glowing in his steel irises. A little sigh escaped from your still quivering lips,  “Tsss calm down, I wasn’t scared. I was just messing with you, fucker.” You mumbled, hoping he would believe it because, on the one hand, you did not want him to feel bad, and on the other hand you hated to display any sign of witness in front of someone. Especially a man. But unfortunately for you, Arthur was more than attentive to little details. And the way you had looked at him had betrayed your true emotions. Nevertheless, he did not want to hurt you more so he did not make any comment about it and just kept observing you to ensure you were feeling better, “Maybe you can do something to apologize like… I don’t know, giving me the fan?”

“Get fucked.” He straight off replied. As well as he wanted to make amend for the little fright he had just given you, giving up on the fan was out of question. Moreover, Arthur always tended to have a high body temperature, which rendered summer nights even more insufferable. 

“OH COME ON! Gimme the fan now!” You insisted.

“My ass yeah, you ain’t taking the fan out of me bedroom or I swear to God I’ll handcuff you to the radiator.” He threatened you, definitely breaking the brief moment of softness between the two of you. The fan was the house’s treasure and he wasn’t willing to let it go for the life of his.

“Fine, you’ve left me no choice.” You concluded. To be true you did not want to use this solution but you really had no other options left. Hereby,  you lay down on the bed and closed your eyes under Arthur’s confused gaze. Perplexed by such a weird move, he scratched his chin wondering what the hell you were doing.

“Eh?” He asked.

“I’ll sleep here then.” 

“What?!” Arthur almost choked at such unexpected news, “No yer not. Absolutely fookin no.” 

Confronted by the refusal, you raised your gaze toward him and bit your lower lip, crocodile tears suddenly filling your beautiful eyes like you had learned when cops sometimes caught you in the midst of a little mischief, “First you keep the fan. Then you hurt me. What did I do to deserve all of this? Do you really hate me that much, Arthur Shelby?” You lamented with the most heartbreaking pout he had ever seen in his entire life… And that was how guilt started to kick in. It was true he had scared you so, maybe, maybe, he could accept your request? Besides, he could not resist your puppy eyes.

“Fine! Just for tonight.” He said, defeated.

“YES!” You joyfully exclaimed in an almost frightening mood swing. You rolled on your other side to turn your back to him and closed your eyelids. All you heard was Arthur’s long sigh. At least you were shutting your mouth and he could go back to sleep without giving up on the fan.

Silence had fallen in the bedroom for a while when Arthur woke up soaked up in his sweat and almost suffocating from the heat. He sat on the mattress, slicking his hair back, and understood the reason why the room was suddenly so hot: you had moved the fan during his sleep in a way that all the fresh air blew in your direction. Rolling his eyes, he fixed the situation by moving it to his side, “Better,” He grunted. He lay back on the bed. The thing was that the soldier had barely closed his eyes when he heard you moving the fan again.

“Are you bloody serious?” The gravel in Arthur voice made you jump, for you did not expect him to be awake, “If you move that bloody fan one more time...” He left his sentence hanging for more dramatic effect.

“But you’ve got all the fresh air!” You exclaimed, your tone adorably hoarser with sleep.

“Sounds like your problem.”

“Arthur, the fan’s small. I can’t feel the fucking air because you take everything.”

Another loud sigh. At first, he wanted to retort something but he was definitely not in the mood to argue with you anymore. Plus, he knew you would not have it. If he wanted to have some peace, Arthur needed a find a good idea right now — And he did find one, “You’ll be the death of me... ” He simply said. You were about to ask him what he meant by that when, all of sudden, Arthur’s long arms wrapped around your body and pulled you against him in a way you could both enjoy the fan’s fresh air. 

Your beings snapped together and your blood immediately boiled in your veins as his hips crashed against your bum, perfectly hugging your shape. An uncontrollable and feverish exhale escaped from your mouth at the sudden sensations as if someone had just lit a fire in your core.  Your thoughts started to bump into each other in your skull — should you punch him or should you sink deeper in this sweet, oh-so-sweet, and comfortable embrace?  You stopped breathing, focusing on every little sensation.

His chest against your naked back.

His breath caressing your neck.

His legs entangled with yours…

In less than five seconds, your whole body relaxed as if you had always meant to be there. Maybe that was why you instinctively snuggled a bit more against the soldier, whose musky scents and powerful grip made you feel safe. For the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to believe you were shielded from everything… Because contrary to everyone else on this damn planet, you trust Arthur with all your soul. You finally closed your eyelids, soothed by the fresh air and by Arthur’s presence all around you.  Admittedly his skin was warm and you were both covered with a thin layer of sweat, but it was far from unpleasant. Quite the contrary, you low-key wished to stay in his arms forever and surprised yourself by thinking you wouldn’t be angry if he touched you a little more… But you’d rather die than confess it.

“And I don’t hate ye.”  He whispered.

“Yeah. I guess I don’t either… But I prolly will if you tell anyone I’m the little spoon.” 

He could not help but chuckle, “Alright, love.” The way he called you “love” made you feel fuzzy, “But yer definitely a cute little spoon.”

“Oh shut up, Arthur.”

No words were spoken after that because words weren’t needed anymore. Arthur buried his nose in your wild blue hair and enjoyed the peculiar fragrances of your sweet perfume, fragrances that were almost getting him high… It struck him all of a sudden: he did not feel the need to snort coke anymore tonight.

It did not take long for you to fall asleep, all comfy and safe in the soldier's arms. In truth, you had not been scared of Arthur but rather of the man you had seen instead of him when he had been pinning you to the bed:  Jack Nelson.

But if you slept well, it had not been Arthur’s case despite the fresh air of the fan and the comforting silence of his bedroom. And for once, it was not his PTSD nor the thought of Linda or his drug cravings that kept him awake: it was you. Only you. The sensations brought by your two bodies perfectly interlocking together drove him to the edge of madness, for far too many sensations stimulated him. The frictions caused by your slightest movement stirred surges of electricity through his core and made his blood boil in his veins. Also, what about that lovely face you had when you were sleeping? Arthur sighed in your neck, causing you to shiver in your sleep. He was well aware that tomorrow morning you’ll both start to fight again, insulting each other and fighting over trivial things, but in the meantime he just wanted you to wake up and, by an unexplained miracle, kiss him with passion, then pull him under the bedsheet for a more intimate way of knowing each other.  He swallowed the knot in his throat, trying to get the image of his hands exploring your gorgeous body out of his mind. Yeah, he just wanted you to love each other until the sun rose.  But you didn’t wake up and that was fine with him, for he was already glad to have you in his arms, all quiet and peaceful, despite the torture it was. 

Just one night, he told himself. He had to keep it together just for one night and then, you’ll be back on the sofa. 

Won't you?

♠️ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

♠️ Tag list: @cljordan-imperium @1nterstellarcha0s @raincoffeeandfandoms @babaohhhriley

[robinuntamed]

Forward

Wei Ying kisses him and it’s—ah—he can’t think past the frenzied burn of it: fingers in his hair and desperate sucking at his neck and ah, ah, it’s, it’s—all-consuming, and Lan Wangji’s mind was always, ah, the thread that keeps it all together—

Helpless, entirely and rabidly so, helpless, crashing against Wei Ying’s chest and grabbing whatever his shaky hands can find, it’s—it’s all he’s—not even allowed himself to dream, and he, he can’t, can’t possibly, can’t. Breathing… can’t. He’ll never stop, never, not if he has any—he has no choice, nothing to do but keep pushing forward, forward, forward-forward-forward. The tense line of Wei Ying’s abs is overwhelming. The scent at the place where his shoulder meets neck. It’s like he’s drunk, is he drunk, did he drink anything? He can’t imagine ever putting his mouth on anything that isn’t Wei Ying’s skin. The taste is… spicy?

He never… ah, the wall, at his back. Forward or backwards? The whole room is spinning. His head is, is, alight, everything too bright and blistering to the touch. He can’t stop touching. The soft skin beneath Wei Ying’s under-robes, the breathtaking squishiness of the lobe of his ear. Is Lan Wangji just squeezing it? Everything feels three sizes too large and a hundred times too loud. He wants it all, so badly he burns. Burns. Everything burns. If Wei Ying stops touching him something terrible would happen, something catastrophic.

He doesn’t, stop. Good. Lan Wangji doesn’t think he knows how to anymore. A distant part of his brain is saying something incomprehensible about ‘self-control’, and the entire concept is ridiculous. Boring. Anything that isn’t Wei Ying gets shoved out of the way, and in the immediate vicinity is all this Wei Ying, from his fingertips to his hands to his arms to his shoulders, to his neck to his cheeks to his nose to his forehead, to his hair to the nape of his neck to the small of his back, to the un-im-not possible curve of his arse, to his thighs and his knees and his shins and his feet. His feet. Under the socks are Wei Ying’s naked feet. Lan Wangji feels shaky with the knowledge.

He wants down. He wants to be released from the vice grip on his waist (never, never let him go), wants to slide gracefully (ha) to his knees and take those socks off and marvel at every single toe. He wants to kiss his way from the devastating angle of his ankle, up the sheer muscle of his leg, hide his face in the crook of his knee. He wants the whole tour, the entire thing, wants, wants, wants, so much that he forgets to breathe. Forgets to ask. Forgets to remember, because Wei Ying is on him and the wall behind so he doesn’t fall even when he staggers. It’s… too much. Lan Wangji is vaguely aware he’s begging.

It's only half-words. “Plea,” and “hnff,” and “ah-ah-ah,” and. He’d be ashamed, but there’s no room for much besides the aching, scorching thrill of it. The desperation is rising and rising and rising like water, like a flood, rising-rising and he cannot, won’t stop it. It’d be terrifying if he wasn’t exactly this vulnerable every time Wei Ying so much as looks at him. It would be terrifying if he had even an ounce left to care.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, solid and blazing-hot at the edge of his consciousness, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” like those words alone hold power, are magic. They must be, because the fever in his blood just goes ricocheting all the way up, he’s burning alive and he doesn’t care because Wei Ying is still saying, “Lan Zhan,” and he wants him, he wants him too, and that on its own is already too far. Lan Wangji can’t… can’t.

He tries to speak but all that comes out are aborted little mewls. He’s… drowning in all of this, somehow divested of most of his clothes, and the wall is cold on his shoulder blades and Wei Ying is impossible, hip to hip, grinding in some mindless rhythm that has Lan Wangji’s heart trying to rip out of his chest, clean through. No, it’s not his heart, it’s—ah! Wei Ying’s arms around him, crushing. Mouth right back to what has to be his favourite spot, somewhere under Lan Wangji’s ear, he’d love to say exactly where but he’s melting, his whole mind is melting, and—Wei Ying helps loop Lan Wangji’s leg around his waist. Oh, he’s in the air. On the wall. Oh, he’s… lost, entirely, and the little shivers he can’t stop are only making it more, more, touch, more friction, and he wishes and wishes he could grasp even a tiny bit of what’s happening and he can’t.

“Wei Ying,” he says, miraculously, out loud. Then again, “Wei Ying—bed—”

Wei Ying laughs, and it’s the sweetest and most outrageous sound. How is everything spinning? How is any of it possible. That Wei Ying. Pulling one arm, “Yes, yes,” as if Lan Wangji said the most important thing, as if Wei Ying is also—is also—

They move, they don’t, it’s frightening, and then he hits something soft (a mat? Please be a mat) and then he hits something softer (Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei—) and then he hits something hard and his mind snaps.

Open—he’s so entirely open. Wei Ying can ask for anything and he would give it. Wei Ying wouldn’t even need to ask. Lan Wangji is aching to give him: to give, to give, to give, himself and everything he possesses, that he can reach. Attempting to get his limbs back under control, to give—

But Wei Ying doesn’t want him in control right now. His eyes are alight with something fiercer than joy, something unbreakable and unfathomable and just bursting-piping-hot. How can anyone stand it, is beyond him; it doesn’t matter. Wei Ying is looking at him like he’s ravenous. His hand trails gentle lines down Lan Wangji’s bare torso (bare? He’s so bare), and his eyes, his eyes.

“Mine,” he says, and it comes out choked, like a plea. A prayer. Lan Wangji musters all of his strength (currently close to none):

“Yours,” he nods. “All yours.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasps, and then he’s on him again, and everything else shuts down.

It’s fast and scalding and desperate—

It’s slow and lingering and sweet—

It’s thudding in his chest like a warhorse through a battlefield, rampaging higher-higher-higher-higher—

Wei Ying kisses him and Lan Wangji thinks: yes. This, exactly this.  

[demise-seems-dead]

@askingkyborg 's main here to bring you some depressing chip mini fic time because im dying

SPOILERS FOR EPISODES 32-34 AND TW FOR suicidal ideation, self harm, and some mentions of blood.

chip in todays ep was so insane for me i just i couldn't resist.

Mathidle hasn't felt a lot of warmth in their after life, and that's alright. The thing about ghosts is that they feel in opposition to a human. When you're alive, you get a spring to your step. You feel the kisses of the sun bead down over your eyelashes. The wind stirs hunger in your stomach and you fight against it in a little human battle. Your hands get warm when you work for too long, calluses thrumming with your pulse and very very warm. Mathilde knows this to be true.

They don't remember holding a lot of hands, but they remember the feeling, maybe due to its stark contrast to know. When a person is very alive, their hands get warm, and when they are dead and gone, their hands grow cold. And thus for ghosts it works the opposite. When alive hands are as cold as frosty knives but when on the brink of death their hands would be ever so warm. 

Ellgas hands were moderately warm. Not technically undead but having lived multiple life spans she grew warm. With Barney it was impossible to tell. Sometimes his hands felt hot, other times too cold. Hard to discern. By way of logic Chips hands are the coldest of course. Being the youngest of the party somehow, and pretty physically adept, he was the most alive of them all, and thus the coldest. Mathilde can't touch the tieflings hands without a shiver climbing up his non corporeal body. 

That's what made today so different. Chip’s are blazing warm. 

They’d been giving blood to the vanian worker in exchange for currency. Mathilde put themselves close to the brink of death, but for good reason. There is a ghost after all, dying again would be a stunt and a half. Their body has started to float, and their items are starting to slowly fade through their body as he inches closer to full spirit than not. It's not as if they enjoy it, but the familiar tickle isn't a bad thing. 

From beside them a sharp gasp comes from Barney's throat. A head turn shows chip loading up his crossbow, using the cocking stirrup and his foot to slide the bolt back with ease. Its a weird action for someone who had initially seemed hesitant to donate any blood at all. Mathilde raises an eyebrow just as the purple tiefling points the crossbow down at his foot and shoots. A shot of blood stains the white of his shoe and he noticeably grimaces. JJ mews from beside mathilde, circling where his feet are dangling. Mathilde knows kittens know when people are close to passing on, and especially a ghost cat. Mathilde bends a bit to scratch her tiny little grey head to let her know they're okay. It's weird knowing you're close to dying, but as a ghost it doesn't hurt, so it's a bit easier. Another crossbow bolt is shot, and JJ’s ears flatten down a little. 

Mathilde looks back up towards chip. A fuzzy outline is starting to show on him, blue and purple swirly. His face is tight and screwed up, nose pressed into grooves and eyes watering. They can hear a crack of barney's voice, like he's about to say something but pauses. The old man's brow furrows. The teller behind the counter starts counting out money softly, and chip moves in a quick motion. Mathilde momentarily thinks he's putting it away, but after a moment it's drawn, but up by his head. 

“Mon ami, maybe be a little bit more careful w-” Mathilde doesn't finish their thought before the bolt is wedged in chip's neck. It drips a long red string, and mathilde can see ellga lick her lips ever so slightly, but does not ignore the slight worry in her brows. 

Mathilde knows Chip can't take many more shots. Three if he was lucky. Yet it doesn't stop him from moving again. Mathilde closes their eyes as he hears the loading noise, and with the shot the blurry ghost-like outline grows stronger, the purple colour bloombing out more. Another shot. That makes five. He can only take one more. JJ is meowing at the tiefling, who's struggling to stand, blood dripping out of his mouth and leaned over the counter. The clerk seems unphased. 

Mathilde closes their eyes again, and sees a new colour. A soft green pushing the blue and the purple away in the dark. Instinctually, as the light brightens, mathilde opens their eyes. Chip is shuttering audibly, eyes lazing open and shut as he braces.

“Carols gone, what else is there to lose…?” JJ bats at chip’s leg, as if in an effort to stop him. Mathildes face stiffens  at the assassin's comment, and they gently wrap an arm around chip, protectively surrounding him with his wings. 

“Alright, I think that's enough. We’ve got plenty of spending money, right chip?” “...Spendin’ money… r-right, right yeah! Were, were rich!” The brunette moves to pick up his currency and his fingers fumble uselessly, eyes lidded slightly. Mathilde makes their hands noncorporeal and gently scoots the coins to his hands without him noticing, not to make him feel coddled. The alchemist shoots a look over his shoulder at mathilde, and mathilde nods back. The mood remains a bit darker and dreary, but chip seems somewhat stable. Mathilde takes his hand gently. The tieflings hands are warm as can be, and it makes a flood of warmth come over mathilde themselves. 

Weirdly, if just for a moment, he feels a second hand reach over theirs. They close their eyes and see a ghostly outline of a tiefling woman, her hand over yours and chips. She presses a finger to her lips and gives a soft but saddened smile. She mouths to them gently.

“Don't let him down this path, mathilde…” A ghostly wiz-consinite voice whispers in their head. He opens his eyes again to see chip leaning down, smiling at a photo in his hand. Mathilde smiles softly.

“I'm glad she's watching over you, my friend.” they say even though the rogue will likely forget his words from the blood loss. He nods and smiles a bit more. 

“‘M glad too, mathilde…” 

[siremasterlawrence]

29 Days To My 37th Birthday Bash

Birthday Wish Come True

When you are on live television telling quite a few millions of viewers jokingly that you stay fit by sex says it all.

Doing good things does not preclude you from being vain that is all he has ever been and will be.

Henry Cavill is a nice guy but vain I think to myself in excitement at the prospect of what is possible.

One hour ago I am finally read and am in the act of celebrating my thirty seventh birthday.

When I pass strange store with a mirror at the front door glass calling to me a weird shape glows.

My hand leaches on to the handle turning it to the side as I walk in to the room standing out in the side of the room.

Inside a bright circular set of lights float high above my head glowing encircling me and it dances.

The lights speed in to my body set on a ripe blaze golden glory washing over my body it became my aura.

“Dear mortal! Can you hear me?”

“Yes of course, how are you ?”

“Do not give in to the fear”

“Who are you ?”

“A Allie”

“Make a wish”

“Happy birthday “

“I wish to possess someone’s body that world wide everyone wants”

“As you wish “

“Tomorrow morning “

“You will be in a new world”

“This is too good to be true “

My eyes lose vision everything is pulling far away from me I conk out in to the abyss of nothingness and I slip in to a coma line state of mind.

“Mmmm…what the? Where am I?” I yell at a high decibel not even aware of the strange accent coming from mouth as I plant my feet on to the bed.

Use my hands to propel my body upward till my head lays on the pillow propped up to the back of my neck and I stare at my off surrounding.

Giving up I yawn outstretching my arms till I calm down and start to put on my slippers I rise off the bed on to type floor catching the reflection in the mirror.

“Henry Cavill! This is unreal”I scream racing to his long full length and begin to process it as I touch my new face in utter disbelief at my sanity.

The reality sinks in about the same time the memory did about the store yesterday grant me a wish day for my birthday or yeah it is today.

“Oh My Goodness!” I think stepping on to a piece a paper with clearly his handwriting on it to my dismay it states that I can do anything right now.

“So the body is mine for 24/7 no penalties or consequences.”

“You chooses to keep him or not it’s free.”

“This has to be a gag. Right?”

“I already removed my payment from his bank account.”

“His memory kicks in as I check his bank account.”

“Well! Happy Birthday To Me”

“I love you Henry”

“This ass is mine”

“You feel that swat “

“Where do you keep your bathing supplies”

“Ah! Here we are “

“Time for a bath”

Considering it all I purposefully disrobe my new body unbuttoning my shirt, dropping my down pants.

Slipping my under pants then kicking both of them off to the side, socks falls off as I stand in the nude.

Doing poses in front of the mirror I do a little shake then a dance showing off my super ass physique.

The bathroom is prepped dropping the only window in the room down as the air swoops in for hood measure.

I can feel the air cooling me off as goes in and through my body soothing it in hot and cold.

Slipping in to the bathroom I flip the water as it rains down on him washing over my body and I soap it up.

Every bit of soap touching all of my crevices reaching to no levels cock is growing so so hard.

My cock blows up getting harder throbbing in my face as it cums a bit all I can do is get turned on.

Playing with myself in my new body more and even more hai scent rises in to my nose god I love it.

Wiping my body the clothes decorate me so tight adorning my body grabbing my keys, wallet and air pods.

Closing my bedroom door I descend down to the staircase and exit my home getting in the car.

I switch the the car one driving off with the windows rolling down, the radio blares on loudly as I sing along.

Parking at a hotel I slip out of the car walk to the hotel happily with hats, shades and on my face.

I hit the bell getting the keys to the room I land on the steps walking up to the main floor.

“It’s about time to you made it buddy”

“The fuck!”

“Tom Hardy”

“Give me a big bear hug”

“Everything is as you specified”

“Happy Birthday Babe”

“The body fit you well”

“Command me”

“Sweet!”

“Strip me “

“Hell yeah!”

“Shall we start”

“With pleasure”

“You are a good kisser Tom”

“Mmmmmm”

The end

[mvshortcut]

Wanted to get back into writing so here's a little fluff snippet with Constance and the kids!

Also on ao3 :D

Constance woke up hot. There was hair plastered against the side of her cheek, damp and sticky. When she tugged at the blankets tangled too-tight around her neck, her fingers were slippery with sweat. 

Oh, how she hated being hot. 

(The room had been freezing last night, after Constance had excused herself from all of the poorly-concealed looks of concern and trudged off to bed. An unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar decorations on the walls. She had shivered herself to sleep.)

To her dismay and disgust, Constance discovered that there was hair in her mouth. She tried to lift her head—all the better to spit it out—but discovered that she couldn’t. Some heavy weight was crushing the top of her head. She’d been so focused on the heat that she hadn’t even noticed—though, no doubt, this was partly the reason she was too hot. And now, as she came to her senses, she became aware of a sort of drone, reverberating in through one ear and out through the other. With some maneuvering, Constance managed to free herself from whatever was crushing her head and glanced around.

The source of the weight—as well as the noise, apparently—was Sticky. His chin had been tucked on top of head; his mouth was wide open, chest vibrating with every snore. Glancing down, Constance saw he had one arm flung over her torso. There was another arm tucked just below it, and tracing the limb back to its source, she found Reynie curled up on her other side.

Constance jumped as a rumbling noise pierced the quiet bedroom, rather like a lawnmower running out of gas. Glancing wildly about, she found the culprit: Kate, sprawled further down the bed at their feet. One hand was curled tight around Constance’s ankle. The other rested inside of her bucket, flip top propped open and ready—she hadn’t even unbelted it. She lay facing the door.

Next to the door was an armchair, covered in a rumpled pile of blankets. The blankets also appeared to be snoring.

Constance blinked. Outside, the breeze sighed, fluttering the branches of a tree just outside the bedroom window. The leaves parted, allowing the first faint rays of daylight to trickle into the room, onto the blanket pile, onto Mr. Benedict’s face.

She could barely make him out under there. But there he was. Breathing softly, the mound of blankets rising and falling, keeping time with his breaths. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen his face so peaceful.

The blankets were unfamiliar to her. They looked a bit scratchy, even in the low light of the early morning. No doubt that was Rhonda’s doing; Mr. Benedict would never ask for a blanket for himself, Constance knew, and certainly not fourteen of them. (Truly, they appeared to be smothering him.) She could just imagine the way Rhonda must’ve pestered Number Two’s mother until she had rummaged in some closet and pulled these out. (Or perhaps they had never been moved from the same closet they’d been kept in all those years ago. Perhaps Number Two herself had remembered.)

But now the question: why was Mr. Benedict in the armchair? There were enough extra rooms at the Two family farmhouse to comfortably shelter a whole army. Surely a bed would be more comfortable. And yet he’d chosen to sit here, presumably to keep watch over the children before his exhaustion had gotten the better of him.

Creepy, she thought to herself. He is going to be insufferable for the foreseeable future. Helicopter parenting. 

She watched the morning light dance across Mr. Benedict’s unruly curls, and felt her heart rate slow.

(It had been cold. People are being frozen—how amusing that it was literal? Cool water drip drip dripping down her spine, building up as the ice began to solidify, to climb, to encase her. She had felt it coming, and had known what was coming, and had been unable to be afraid.)

(Kate’s fingers blazed tight around her ankle. Sticky’s warm breath tickled her ear.)

A quiet cough. She twisted to her left. Reynie was blinking awake.

Constance quirked one eyebrow, which she knew Reynie would understand to mean, Why are the three of you here, breathing into my air and slobbering on my pillows?

He responded only with a lopsided smile and a sheepish shrug. 

Constance bugged out her eyes and stuck out her tongue. To her annoyance, his smile only grew wider.

Oh, how she hated having to watch him smile fondly at her. Too soft. Urgh. No, this wouldn’t do. 

But the thought of untangling herself and climbing out of bed was quite distasteful as well. Well. Seeing as it was still an ungodly hour in the morning, and—though she’d rather be brainswept than admit this aloud—she actually was quite comfortable here, despite the heat . . . 

Reynie let out a huff of surprise—which soon turned into a huff of laughter—as Constance half-wiggled, half-dove forward, burying her face into his chest. He adjusted smoothly, seamlessly, as if it were a mere afterthought of welcoming her into his arms, turning and tucking and maneuvering so that his elbow wasn’t digging into her already too-warm ears.

Behind her, Sticky gave a drowsy grunt and wriggled in closer against Constance’s back. Kate’s fingers tightened around her ankle. 

Constance let her eyes slide shut, and knew that she was safe. 

[lynxfang]

(Cw: injury description, death, some body horror ig, existentialism, lynx's dumb headcanons)

Gore dripped slowly down the slick, blue blade. A tear slipped down the cold cheek of the devil who lay there all wreathed in red and crowned if his broken horns. The sword had come down too hard upon his shoulder, and he hadn't been able to grab for the blade that he and scott had tossed aside in an act of virtue and honor. Their fists and claws had been all the weapon they'd needed... if the meteor hadn't struck when he had. The thick, acrid scent of burned fish swam through his nose as he cast his crimson eyes to the corpse of the merfolk who lay before him, wreathed in his own loser's crown of blazing laurels. A halo of blistering lava bubbled and popped as it seemed into the ground around the body. Scott hadn't even had a chance to grab their sword. Their legs had given out under them as the heat boiled their very will. Webbed hands were clasped around gills in a final act of desperate gasping, the smoke choking the air from lungs and gills alike.

Martyn felt the thrill filling his veins with a laugh. It was a hot, blazing pleasure that ran through his blood like lightning. It burned like pain, but it never did hurt. Others had said it hurt whenever you stole the time from another, but that wasn't true. It only hurt because they let themselves feel bad about it. He wouldn't do that. It was a death match after all.

Webbed hands twisted by the sea that gripped the blade losened their hold, and he only barely heard the sword fall to the red-stained grass beneath his feet. His boots had long since come off after his last death when he'd found they confined the large, webbed feet too tight. He clenched clawed toes into the wet grass. His arms felt heavy. Too heavy, and Martyn had to fight to stay upright as he laughed. No one was there to hear him laugh, but he threw his gold maned head back, every gasp of laughter making the pufferfish scales expand and flex under his skin, puffing up like the pauldrons of warrior. He laughed louder than he ever had before. Skizz had complimented his laugh on day one, hadn't he? Oh, how Martyn was glad Skizz had reminded him to laugh. Where was he now? With those listeners? Watchers? Taking his place among the contestants for the next match? Would Martyn join them then, too?

He sloughed the jacket from his shoulders, the banner of a long-lost land he could hardly forget flowing behind him like a scarf of blood from his waist. He flexed his claws- new additions after joining Scott- and looked down at those fishscaled hands. Were they stained red because of the blood he spilt? Or was it simply his scales matching his name? Filthy reds.

As he took a step forward, he lurched forward with an unnaturally long stride, feeling his muscles and flesh stretch with his motions like elastic stretched to its limits. His shoulder pulsed with his huffing breath. The fissures glowed purple, but he tried to ignore them. The time ticked down. The sand trickled through the neck.

That's my time.

He watched as every second passed in the pulse of his fissures and the beat of his heart. I need more time. He climbed the hill, every step more awkward than the last. It was like his legs didnt fit his hips anymore. He tasted the air, checked the tab. There had to be more time. Surely. He had drawn his blade with thirty minutes left. But now, Martyn wandered that familiar land for an hour. Maybe it was an hour? It was aimless and tired and hungry. Every second did not pass as a second, but as a beat of a time starved heart. Twenty four hours down to thirty minutes. I want my time back.

He broke into a sprint, tumbling down onto all fours. Drool (or was it blood?) Dripped down his chin as he scaled the towers, raced along the skynet, and over the hills. He scrambled around TNT craters. Had the meteor made those, too? The cake had gone stale. The bread had gone moldy. "Time... I need time. No, no, no, NO!" He snarled, his voice wet with bloodlust. After everything, he still LOST. He wasn't losing, no... no. But he watched as he lost. He stood before the hourglass, and watched red sand trickle down.

"CRUEL, YOU ARE CRUEL!" He snarled to the heavens, time-addled mind only forming words out of rage as he swiped with his claws at the sky. He couldn't hear their laughter. But he knew they laughed. They laughed and watched and listened and he had to wait. Is this how Grian felt while he buried Scar? Is this how Scott had felt before the watchers, in their infinate "mercy" slew him with a snap of their proverbial fingers? And Pearl? Did she relish the lonesome, or did she too curse the cruelty of those damn voyeuristic bastards overhead.

"Ren... Ren," he muttered, barely recalling whose name it is he called for as he held the tattered banner in his claws. "Scott... I..." He wasn't sorry. Betrayal had been in his blood since before day one.

Inthelittlewood Ran Out of Time.

[no-not-without-you-blog]

Flufftober 5th: Morning Person

Summary: Your husband Ari wakes up far too early.

Prompt by @flufftober Graphics by @firefly-graphics

You felt the bed shift as Ari rolled out of bed before the sun had even come up for the day. 

“Ugh, you should have told me before I married you that you were such a morning person.” You mumbled, shoving your head under the pillow slightly. He just chuckled softly and kissed your head.

“Sorry, my love. You’re stuck with me now.” He walked to the bathroom, closing the door before he turned the light on as he got dressed for the day. A few minutes later he emerged, his dark jeans stretched across his legs, a dark long sleeve shirt with a thick flannel over top. It was cold out so you imagined that he had also thrown on some thermals under his jeans as well. He gave you one more kiss before softly closing the bedroom door and trudging down the hallway, leaving you in your warm cocoon of blankets. 

You tried to go back to bed, but you were up for the day. If you couldn’t go back to sleep, you may as well start your day early. You had quite a list of tasks, the homestead never giving a full break, even in the dead of winter. You bundled up in  your thermals, a pair of your favorite pants, thick socks pulled over your feet, and a soft and warm sweater. You would trade it out for a more sturdy jacket before heading outside, but in the house, it was just right. You made your way to the living room and kitchen and saw the fire in the wood stove burning brightly. It made you smile, knowing that Ari had made sure it was blazing before he went out, leaving you with a warm and cozy home. You turned on the coffee pot and started in on breakfast, knowing that Ari would have already worked up an appetite. Eggs, Corned Beef, Skillet potatoes, roasted tomatoes and mushrooms, rye toast, and an apple cut up. It was a fairly easy breakfast to make, the corned beef already cooked and cut, just waiting in the fridge. The potatoes, tomatoes and mushrooms all going into the oven to cook. All you had to do was season everything, wait for the oven and then cook the eggs and toast the bread. You were able to sit at the window, slowly drinking a cup of coffee, looking out at your husband as he chopped more wood to add to your already behemoth pile. How was this man your husband? He looked like a model, his thick Carhart coat doing nothing to hide just how muscular and broad chested he was. His shaggy hair was poking out of the dark knitted beanie you had made for him last winter. You smiled as he looked up and caught you staring at him. The smile on his face taking your breath away. You tilted your head, inviting him to come back inside. He nodded to you and pointed to the last few logs he had in his to-do pile, letting you know that he was going to finish those last few and then come in.

You turned back to the kitchen, finishing up and plating breakfast and pouring him a cup of hot coffee. You heard him kicking his boots off and hanging up his coat before he made his way into the kitchen. He walked up behind you and bent down, kissing your shoulder. “Good morning, my love.” You took a deep breath, blushing as you loved when he would call you his love. You spun around, wrapping your arms around his cold neck, warming it up with your hands. “Good morning, darling.” He pulled you close and bent down to kiss your lips. His cold but soft, warming up as they moved against yours. He then buried his cold face into your neck, making you screech in surprise. He laughed and then also weaseled his cold hands under your shirt, making you squirm at the temperature. You playfully pushed him away and picked up the mugs of hot coffee while he grabbed the plates, carrying them over to the breakfast nook in the kitchen. You cozied up next to him on the booth seating, a blanket draped over you. It wasn’t practical to eat like this, but neither of you minded, preferring to share each other's warmth and enjoy the cuddles before the busy day really started.

“Sorry for waking you up this morning.” He said between bites and sipping his coffee.

“It’s alright.” You reassured him. Looking up at him, he smiled down at you and placed a kiss on your head. “Besides, if the mornings are like this one, I don’t think I mind it.”

Taglist:

@annasrefuge @chrisevansdaughter 

[thejedifairy]

Savage x fem Reader - Visions

The cool breeze of the night swept its way through the grand manor house which Maul now claimed ownership of. Carved within the mountain, surrounded by thick forest. The golden waterfalls were thunderous, drowning out any sound that came from the mountain. Its spectacular view distracted the prying eyes who dared wandered where they shouldn’t. The thin red silk that hung from the sculpted archways swayed gently with the cool breeze, it slowly engulfed the large room, creeping up the ornate legs of the low set bed, swirling its way around the sleeping pair.

The yellow and browned skinned night brother body did not pay any heed to the drop in temperature. His red homeworld: Darthomir was embraced by the bitter cold each time darkness fell on the planet. He and his brothers were accompanied each night by the heat of the roaring fire giving them the little comfort that was so often denied by both planet and their female counterparts. 

While his companion, who was much more sensitive to the shift in climate also made no fuss about the temperature. For her body was already drenched in sweat as if she had run miles under the blazing twin suns of Tatooine. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the sheets, tugging harshly on the thick fabric, toes curled as she dragged her feet up the bed only to straighten them out once again. Her back arched off the bed so slowly before she had no choice but to collapse back down on the firm mattress. Her head twisted side to side so fervently that had anyone been watching would fear her neck would snap. Soft “No’s” and whimpers left her chapped lips. Her mind fought for control of her senses trying to decipher what was real and what wasn't. 

The presence of the cosmic power of the force offered her a sight, one she did not think could ever come to pass nor ever want to witness. The death of her mate. The cloaked figure standing proud, watching his form slump to the floor, a blur of red appeared to his side and with the cry of rage that rang from the vision she too awoke with a scream of terror.

The large Zabarak tore from his bed, igniting his dual-wielding lightsaber; with a deep throated growl he scoured the room, his head snapping in every direction, his adrenaline wiping all remnants of sleep both his vision and his mind. He stood poised ready to face the immediate danger that presented itself to both him and his beloved.

His growl stuttered to a stop. Savage was beyond confused at the empty room before him and turned quickly to check on his mate. She sat up straight in bed, her chest heaving as her eyes were pressed firmly shut. Her usual thick hair was matted and stuck itself to her skin, while her nightclothes was dishevelled as her hands moved to grip her top. 

He moved to approach but at the sound of his footsteps her eyes snapped open, they widened as she stared at him. His strong fingers splayed as he reached to touch her, to comfort her for he could sense the fear that was flooding his senses through the force. But at the mere sight of his attempted touch, she flung herself from their bed, scream in her throat, as if his hand would be scorching hot to the touch.

The night brother was beyond stunned. Frozen, he dared not move, to wonder if he was perceived as a threat by her as his mind worked rapidly to figure out what had just occurred before him. She had curled herself into a ball, pressing heavily against the stone wall behind her. Her fingers gripped her arms so tight he could see the red marks blossoming against her skin. Her scream had turned into wails, one he could associate with a mother whose child lay dead in her arms. But it wasn’t a child’s name he could hear from her choked sob but his own.  

“Savage, Savage, Savage” she cried. Why does she cry his name? Surely, she could not see him, he stood before her in this very room. She looked at him. Or did she someone else?

Against his better instinctive judgement that was warning him of a potentially fatal outcome of approaching a cornered female. He rolled his shoulders back, tilting his head from side to side easing the muscles in his neck, reminding himself as he moved that this female before him wasn’t a stranger, but his woman, his mate. (Y/N) the person who decided that he was the one that she would walk through life with, no matter the path it may lead to.

He slowly sunk to a kneeling position, hands splayed palm up allowing her to see that he was unarmed and presents no threat to her. From her quivering position, she reluctantly turned her gaze to him. He could sense her shock at him being there. He knew now that her mind and sight were rightened and she had now ascertained reality from vision.

He watched as her chest swelled with the intake of breath. She shakily released it as she uncurled herself, moving to crawl on her hands and knees. He dare not move, he waited and watched afraid that sudden movement may agitate her. When she was only a few feet away she stopped. Her slender arm shook as she reached out, fearful that the man before her would disappear the moment her fingertips brushed against his skin.

When he remained solid, a choked sob escaped her lips. Her fingertips were replaced by her palm running the length of his chest, his pectorals muscle tensing under her passing touch, his twin hearts beating faster as the adrenaline left his body and being replaced by his relief.

To her amazement his body was fine, he was fine. No lightsaber burns. “Savage” flood of tears fell once more from her red puffy eyes. 

“My love, what troubles you” he griped her face softly with his large hands, tilting her face up to look at him, his large thumbs wiping away her endless tears. 

“Your death my love, I have foresaw it. You will fall to the Sith lord” 

Before he had a chance to utter a single word, she flung her arms around his neck. Latching herself on to him. “Hold me, I beg of you please” 

Without another word, the darthmarian lifted his mate. His muscular arms wrapping around the lower of her back and her knees and he lifted her bridal style before taking her back to their bed. Where he did as he was asked. He held her so tight that he believed that if he held her any tighter her bones would shatter. 

For now he would allow her to rest, then once the sun has risen he would press her for the answers he was curious to know.

[thesolferino]

Touchdown

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: smut, minors please keep scrolling!

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon

— summary: clay loses a football game, and while he’s already mad, you decide to rile him up even more.

“God fucking damnit.”

Clay muttered, pulling his helmet off and slamming it against one of the benches as he said the last word, making you almost jump as you quietly trailed along behind him, feet following in his footsteps. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, wiping beads of sweat off the sides of his face as he moved towards his locker, carelessly hanging the helmet in its place as he huffed a frustrated sigh.

The locker room was empty, no traces of anyone’s belongings left, as Clay took his sweet time yelling and arguing with the coach after he instructed the rest of the team to change and get out of his sight; everyone had left before he even reached the lockers. The game hadn’t ended well for his team - the game tied, and he was feeling confident, patting their center, Nick, on the back in encouragement, shooting a pearly smile to those who cheered them on and filled the bleachers. They played overtime, and a coin was tossed, during which his team ultimately lost. Looking back on it in the pessimistic state that he was in now, throwing the towel he used to wipe his face at the wall, that should’ve been the first sign it wouldn’t end well. 

The other team scored one final touchdown in the last three minutes of the game, the crowd’s cheers and protests mixing as the opposing team’s points shot up by six, leaving them victorious by one single point and Clay upset, pent up rage and bitterness stuck inside his body with nowhere to go now that the game was over and balls couldn’t be thrown. He stayed arguing with the coach for longer than he should have, even though he simply refused to budge. You’d managed to come down from the bleachers just in time to see him hold back a curse and speedwalk towards the lockers, following close behind, not even daring to call out his name.

“Damnit!” he shouted again, sitting down on the bench, running both of his hands through his hair fervently, huffing out large exhales every time they moved back and forth. The rest of his gear was still on despite coming here specifically to change - his jersey was still draped over his large shoulder pads and chest, one glove on and the other chucked at the wall as well as the towel, shorts and knee pads in place, too. You carefully reached out to place a warm hand on his shoulder, at least giving him some type of assurance, hoping it would calm the fire that burnt in him, mighty and frantic, at least a little. 

It seems to do nothing, though, and the fire in him just keeps growing taller and stronger, flames licking farther up his throat, seconds away from escaping, burning him to ashes.

They do exactly that - they engulf his entire body, and for the split second that his gaze catches yours, you can see his eyes glint with flames, before he stands up so quickly it makes you dizzy, and presses his lips to yours hungrily. His fire engulfed you, spreading through you like an infectious disease, warmness swarming you from head to toe as he pulled you closer to him by the waist, leaving fiery fingerprints everywhere his hands touched you like hot coal.

He grunted into your kiss as he walked forward, backing you into the wall. The kiss was so unruly, so much more dizzying than any of the delicate ones you’d share in your bedroom - it was forceful, daring, scratchy, and when both of his rough arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he murmured: “Jump.” into your mouth, you knew you weren’t leaving that room without bruises. 

Despite being aware of that, though, you couldn’t help but test his dominance, at least a little bit. Being bratty was second nature; after all, you were the air to his fire. When you blew strong enough, you could calm it down, but when you blew however you pleased, you’d ignite it more intensely than any gasoline ever could. And you couldn’t take the fire out this time, so you might as well fuel it to the best of your abilities. 

“I don’t want to. And take off the uniform, you’re not gonna fuck me with those shoulder pads on.” 

He pulled away, staying close enough to your face so you could feel every riled exhale, enough so you could see his jaw clench and green eyes boring into yours so madly that you almost cowered under his gaze - however, you persisted. There was really no reason to answer like that, and both of you knew it, but you wanted to toy with him, have him earn your submission, no matter if he’s pissed out of his mind or not. In hindsight, that may have not been a good idea, and you realised that the longer he said nothing and stared at you in pure anger, but there’s no going back now, is there?

“I’ll fuck you however I want.” Clay muttered through gritted teeth. “And you’ll like it no matter what.”

With that, his arms were back around your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist when he pushed you to lean against the wall. His lips were glued back onto yours in no time, your hand automatically darting to bury itself in his hair and pull, his fingers on your hips so tight they’d surely leave red marks. His lips left yours and you almost whined but held back when they moved to your neck, barely wasting any time before biting down on it, earning a gasp from you that you foolishly hoped he didn’t hear despite knowing there’s no way he missed it. He sucked on it, hard, to the point that you knew there’s no way it could be any shade other than dark, dark purple in a couple days’ time. 

He set you down briefly, and you did your best to try and hide how impatient and upset you were getting, but he grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it up, tossing it to the side before getting rid of the shoulder pads as well, your eyes swerving over his sweaty, naked chest as he silently raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to do the same. You did nothing except lift your gaze back to Clay’s and stare at him with no emotion whatsoever.

“Take it off.” He commanded, gaze switching between your chest and eyes, waiting for you impatiently. You exhaled through your nose, just short of a chuckle.

“Do it yourself.” You shot back, seeing him cock his head to the side in an attempt to compose himself and flush down the anger, despite knowing it won’t work. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He scowled, hands immediately grabbing at your shirt and pulling it off, fingers quick on your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. 

“And yet you still wanna fuck me like a dog in heat.” You retorted when the clasp loosened and he pulled the fabric down your arms, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips while he rolled one of your nipples through his fingers.

“You think you’ll still be talking to me like this when you’re begging me to cum and I say no?” Clay whispers in your ear right before his mouth moves down to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and neither of you fail to notice the goosebumps that cover your whole body. You don’t even get to manage a word out, syllables falling back into your throat when you swallow upon feeling his hands sneak themselves under your skirt, gripping your thighs. 

“With how she’s talking, I’m sure my little brat isn’t wet right now. Right?” you feel your heart speed up when his hand moves a little further to the right and runs his fingers over your damp panties, brushing over your opening, fingers barely ghosting your clit. His pointer finger catches onto the fabric and pushes the underwear aside, leaving space for his middle finger to feel the juices that pour out of you, his touch feeling incredibly cold against your heat, feeling the tips of his fingers coat themselves in you before pulling away. His eyes meet yours paired with a smug smirk that you’ll never get to erase out of your memory.

“Oops.” he grins. “Seems like I was wrong.”

And then, when you least expect it, his fingers shove themselves in you, eliciting a muffled whimper, legs stumbling backwards to lean on the wall again when they start pumping in and out, lewd noises deafening you as you feel drops of wetness slipping down your thighs. He still persistently works his fingers inside your underwear, thumb sneaking inside too to rub at your clit, and that’s when he pushes a moan out of you, a sign of defeat - music to his ears. You can’t help it, can’t help any of it when it feels so good, when every time his wet finger brushes against your clit it sends a jolt through your whole body, your own hands twitching at the movement. 

Your whole body sets aflame, head blazing, sweat escaping through strands of your hair the longer he keeps going, fingers stuffed in you, thrusting in and out like it’s his last, pushing you towards your orgasm more and more. Sure enough, your stomach starts twisting and your abdomen coils, something inside you pushing you off the walls as you arch more and more and grind into his unrelenting fingers. 

“Cl-Clay… fuck, I’m-!” just as the words pass your lips, his fingers pull out, and the pleasure is entirely gone, ripped away from your hands as you stare up at him, feeling betrayed. Your hands instinctively move to your heat, as if of their own free will, but he grabs at your wrist before they make it to their destination.

“Don’t you dare. You come when I say so. I think I’ve made that very fucking clear, haven’t I?” Both of you know he’s stripped you of your brattiness when you say nothing, just swallow to mend your dry throat and quietly nod - you hate it, he loves it.

Clay pulls his shorts and underwear down his legs, and that’s when you realise you’re finally getting what you’ve been waiting for, so you hook your fingers around the waistband and pull your panties down, stepping out of them when you notice his cock, finally free and painfully throbbing as he strokes himself a few times. His eyes catch sight of the way you practically drool watching him, and he does nothing but scoff before your eyes meet.

“Get on the bench. All fours.” He commands and you comply, climbing onto one of them, arms and legs trembling where you place them.

“Watch your balance. I won’t be slow.” Clay says, guiding his cock into you, slowly pushing the tip inside as you hold your breath, waiting for him to just get on with it, already plenty stretched from the way his fingers fucked you open just seconds before.

“Won’t you now?” You murmur in irritation, words escaping you before you can even rationalise the fact that they won’t do you any good right now. “If you can’t play good, at least try to fuck me good.” 

He stopped in his tracks and you froze, only realising that you may have crossed the line after the words were already long out of your mouth, and you opened it to apologise, but didn’t even get to inhale properly when he suddenly buried himself in you to the hilt, almost tearing you apart when his hips collide with yours and you let out a pained yelp, his cock stretching you out ten times more than his fingers had.

You felt his whole hand wrap itself around your throat before he pulled you up by it, pressing his lips close to your ear so you could hear every last breath of his.

“You know I play as good as I fuck - and best believe, I’ll fuck that brat out of you.” Clay growled into your ear before pushing you back down, not even giving you time to grip the bench before pulling out and thrusting back in with a low groan, setting a fast pace from the start.

You bit down on your lip with more and more force with every thrust - he filled you to the hilt every time, and you were sure you were drawing blood by now, a slight metallic taste coating your tongue from how hard you were holding back your moans. You were absolutely not gonna let him fuck the brat out of you.

He kept pumping into you wildly, pace brutal and unforgiving, and it took everything in you to be as quiet as possible, but then you felt a cold finger carefully rub at your sensitive clit, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, a loud moan getting pushed out of your throat.

“Fuck! Clay…” you whimpered, trying to stabilise yourself on your shaky arms but barely succeeding because the more he pumped inside of you, the more it felt like he was forcing every thought in your brain out, replacing it with only him and his name. The hand gripping your hips left them, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling it whenever he thrusted back in, making you hiss out in a sick mix of pleasure and pain.

“F-Fuck, I…” your throat ran dry from how fast and ragged your breathing stayed - it felt like he was going faster and faster every second.

“This good enough for you, princess?” he exaggerated, mocking you, a little out of breath himself as he pushed farther and farther, thumb never leaving your clit. You swallowed, not able to give him a proper response besides dumbed down words and broken syllables. He angled himself a little different with the next thrust, which made him dive into a spot he hadn’t touched before, making you see stars as you let out a huge gasp, grabbing at his arm that pulled on your hair in a blind attempt to ground yourself.

“R-Right there… fuck, please don’t-don’t stop!” you cried out, a new wave of heat flooding your entire body as he kept hitting the same spot over and over again, making you blind, white imprinted behind your eyelids. Your brain, along with any rational thoughts turned off completely, leaving you with nothing but moans and gasps of his name and how scarily good his cock felt in you.

You felt your climax creeping up on you, slowly but surely, the heat from every part of your body accumulating in the pit of your stomach, feeling the knot ready to come undone any second now. You clenched around him painfully, unable to help the spasms, seconds away from orgasm to the point you could practically taste it. It seemed like Clay could taste it, too, because he slowed down, thrusting into you lazily, like he hadn’t fucked your brains out a moment ago.

“Say sorry.” he said, voice as stable and confident as ever, unwavering compared to your shaky, barely still there one. 

“Wh-what?” It took the words a second to make their way from your ears to your brain, hazy mind clouded with nothing but him, unable to process what he’s even saying when he’s buried so deep in you.

“I said, say sorry.” he bumped into your sweet spot once again, leaving you mewling and your eyes closing on their own.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” you stuttered, trying to piece your thoughts together while you could.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. “Sorry for the things you said, or sorry because you know I won’t let you come?” 

“I’m-I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t-… I promise I didn’t mean it… Please, let me come, baby…” you whimpered out, grabbing at his arm again, trying to gain the little bit of sympathy you hoped he still had left.

“You’ll have to beg a little harder for me to even think about it, princess.” he chuckled, like the whole thing was damn hilarious, working his fingers on your clit again as your breathing stammered and you fought your best to get some words out.

“God, baby, please, you-you know I didn’t mean it… I’m sorry, so sorry…” you breathed out with another tired gulp. “You-...I-... please, baby, you can’t do this, I’m sorry, okay?”

“I can do whatever I fucking want to and I have some reason for it. What’s stopping me from using you like my own little fuckdoll right now and leaving you here with nothing except my own cum dripping out of you? What’s stopping me?” Clay snapped, pulling you by the hair again. You gulped again, feeling actually nervous this time.

“I… Please, baby, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said, please, can you just-” 

He interrupted you mid sentence with such a rough thrust that you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his fingers back on your clit, feeling like you’re getting lifted up to the skies themselves once again. He managed to find the same angle, hitting the spot that made you feel hell and heaven all at once, pleasure prickling at every part of your body as you loudly moaned, putting no effort into concealing it or keeping silent anymore.

You felt the knot in your stomach once again, quicker than ever, slowly unraveling itself and your cries turned into ramblings, begging him to let you come.

“Pl-please, can I please… Fuck! Please, can I- I’m so close, shit, baby, can I please-” you stuttered, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes as you could almost touch your climax.

“Fuck, baby. Come for me.” 

As soon as the words escaped his lips, you felt the knot finally untie itself and you let out a guttural moan, not caring who would hear or not - the pleasure was sickeningly sweet, almost making you ill, knocking you to your elbows as you couldn’t see, hear, feel nothing except the wave of pleasure washing over you repeatedly, beads of sweat running down your body.

The clenching of your heat against him while you climaxed drove Clay to the brink of insanity, coming himself before he could even realise it, filling you up to the brim with a few final thrusts. He stayed inside you for a few seconds while you were catching your breath, watching you uncontrollably spasm around him as you came down from the high, clenching around him every so often, all your senses overstimulated.

When your breathing evened out, he finally pulled out, grabbing the box of tissues from his locker as he slowly started to clean you up, wiping over your sensitive parts, holding you up lightly by the stomach so you wouldn’t fall whenever he touched one of the tender parts. You huffed out a large exhale.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Clay. Remind me to never provoke you after a game again, what the fuck.” you said, voice still shaky, and you heard him cackle behind you.

“I’ll probably be mad for the rest of the day anyways, but whatever.”

“You played good, by the way. Really good. I just wanted to piss you off.” You admitted, watching him stand up and look at you with a knowing smile, before pressing a light peck against your lips. 

“Yeah, I figured.”

[everythingfan589]

A Work In Progress

Chapter 17: Practically Glowing

Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving), fingering

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist

It’s the first time he’s slept with his helmet off around you.

Perfectly exposed and trusting you to hold true to your promise一one which you have no intention of ever breaking.

He’s so human like this and you can almost convince yourself that everything is normal. Just two people tangled together in blankets with no armor or weapons in sight.

The two of you found yourself back in the hull of the ship. In a makeshift bed on the floor with a pillow and blanket. It’s the most comfortable place in the world一because he’s there. Like you’ve grown so used to, he spoons you, sharing one pillow一only now, you can feel his breathing on your neck. Every exhale is unmodulated and you can feel it. There's no shield preventing the breath from passing.

His face is burrowed in your hair一he fell asleep that way. You don’t allow yourself to fall asleep because you just want to enjoy this. The feeling of being held by him with nothing shielding him from you but the darkness.

The hull is pitchblack. All lights turned off and no stars overhead to light the way. Even if you turned around to face him with your eyes open一you wouldn't see a thing. It’s nice一you don’t have to worry about slipping up and he’s at the same level as you.

Without thinking, you shift your feet back so they’re resting under one of his legs for warmth一but it’s because of this shift that he stirs, you curse the light sleeper in him always ready for anything. With a big sigh, he moves his head down to pepper light kisses down the back of your neck.

“Your feet are cold.” His crackling morning voice mumbles into your neck and you chuckle sleepily.

“And you’re like a furnace.” You fire back playfully, your own voice that hasn't been used for hours cracking slightly. He continues to kiss along the nape of your neck and you purr in contentment at the feeling. The sound only eggs him on more, continuing to kiss your neck to pull more sounds from you.

“We can’t stay on Ahch-To for too long. I need to get a job.” He murmurs into your neck, kissing in between every couple words, but you just hum in response. “Have to get credits somehow.”

“Or...we could just stay here forever.” You mumble, shifting around until you’re facing him一lips once kissing your neck colliding with your mouth. He groans at the connection, moving his lips slowly against yours.

“Doesn't work like that.” He grumbles into your lips as your hands slide up his unfortunately clothed chest一you don’t have time to be disappointed before your hands collect in his hair, twisting through his unkempt curls, releasing a low hum from him, vibrating through his chest.

“No?” You tease, continuing to work him up with your mouth and wandering hands. After a couple more seconds一it’s like he’s made up his mind.

He flips so he’s hovering above you, mouth still connected with yours as his hips find themselves between your thighs. You like this position. Only, he moves一

Downward.

His mouth moves from your mouth to your chin to your neck一to your stomach where he pulls up the hem of your shirt. His hot mouth peppers kisses all over your soft skin until he moves deeper一to the waistband of your panties.

You had only put them on before you fell asleep, not bothering with your pants as the two of you settled down. He teases, kissing on top of the fabric instead of pulling it down or to the side. Blazing mouth moving to your inner thigh, spending way to much time一in your opinion一kissing the tender skin.

“Din.” You plead, not receiving what his body seemed to be promising. Finally, his fingers move under the band of the underwear, pulling them down your thighs agonizingly slow. Once off, his breath fans over your heat, teasing you to no avail.

With one last kiss to your inner thigh, he moves to your cunt一licking one stripe up between your folds一sending a delicious chill up your spine. This feeling is different. It’s warm and deliberate一his tongue is so good.

This is a different kind of furnace. Lapping at your juices like it’s the sweetest fruit he’s ever known一like it’s even more for his pleasure than for your own.

His tongue moves up until it flicks your swollen bud一you jerk toward his mouth一responding instantly. The second time he flicks your clit, you accidently release a breathy moan一this makes him pull his mouth away.

“Wait, no一” You whine, already missing the feeling of his mouth on you.

“You have to be quiet. You don’t want to wake up the kid.” He whispers up to you.

Oh, right一

You nearly forgot about the kid with everything that just happened一but you forget about him once again as his mouth returns to your cunt, tongue dragging up between your folds with more pressure. This time he latches onto your clit, licking in slow circles around the bud and sending a soothing warmth through your body.

Instinctually, your hands find themselves in his hair, pushing his head closer to your heat, needing even more. You guess he likes the feeling of your fingers pulling on his hair because he groans into you and shit一the vibration of the sound feathering across your cunt threatens another moan from you, one that you stifle with the back of your hand.

“Din, keep doing that.” You hiss as his tongue works your clit until you start to feel warmth surround you. The familiar feeling of climax rushes over you as he continues, grumbling sounds escaping him just to send those delicious vibrations through your core.

Then he starts sucking and you near fall off the cliff. Biting the back of your hand to stop from crying out, your back arches, pushing yourself into him as you convulse on the floor of Din’s fucking ship.

And with one last lurch, you’re pushed over the finish line as your orgasm washes over you. You nearly pull yourself away from him at the overstimulation of his hot mouth still on your clit, but his hands on your thighs hold you still, as if he’s not finished with you.

“D-Din一fuck一it’s t-too much.” You whimper as he continues to lick greedy circles around your throbbing clit一desperate for a break. He finally releases it, only to crawl up your body until his mouth rests just beside your ear.

“I thought I told you to be quiet.” He growls in your ear and you just about go feral for him一but instead, you remain silent, tensing up as he drifts down again, face inches from your dripping cunt, already spent. He hums in thought, as if he’s considering something.

“Again.”

“W-Wha一” You mumble before his mouth has attached to you again, almost ripping another moan from you, but you hold it in一instead letting your fingers grasp his hair.

This time, you feel a firm finger travel between your folds, teasing your entrance while his tongue works your exhausted clit. You didn't think you’d ever be able to orgasm twice so close together一but Din seems confident as he works you just as determined as before.

Finally, his pointer finger pushes into you一a whisper of a sigh leaving your lips in pleasure. He buries his finger to the knuckle before pulling it out just as slow. He only does that a few more times before adding a second finger.

You’re overwhelmed一overstimulation building up in your stomach as he works you again. Two digits deep in your cunt and beginning to move faster. Your breathing has picked up significantly, as if you’ve just run a marathon and are being asked to do a hundred meter sprint to the end.

Then, his fingers curl inside you一hitting something just right.

“OHh一fuc一d-do that again一” You try to keep your moan as quiet as possible. He does as you request, burrowing his fingers as deep as they’ll go and curling them in such a way that pulls a sickening orgasm from your back pocket.

His fingers are moving fast now, mouth sucking on your clit while you try to hold onto every bit of consciousness you have left. All you can see is white一streaking across your lids like hyperspace only better.

Another couple seconds and you’re undoing around him一orgasm washing over you like nothing you’ve felt before. The effects of two consecutive orgasms leaving you paralyzed. Licking you through the aftershocks, Din drones in satisfaction before dragging himself up your body and kissing up your neck and under your chin.

“You’re so beautiful.” And yet those words hit you harder than his tongue on your most intimate area.

“You can’t see me.” You whisper, not sure how else to respond to the comment that sends warm sparks to your heart.

“Don’t need to.” He mumbles, mouth moving up until it can capture yours in a kiss. You can taste yourself on him一but you don’t care一it’s just a gorgeous reminder of what he does for you simply because it pleases him to do so.

With one last gentle kiss to your lips, he’s rolling off of you一taking you with him in his arms so that he’s holding you to his chest. He pulls up the blanket so it’s covering both of you again.

“Go back to sleep.” He mumbles into your hair and you nearly laugh.

“After that?” You chuckle into his warm chest and he just sighs, the same hidden amusement poking through in his voice.

“When the kid wakes up you’ll wish you slept.” He has a point一the kid is a handful when he has energy一you’ll take every opportunity to sleep you can. So, you burrow into his chest even more, if possible, and hum in content. This is where you’re meant to be.

He was right.

The kid was intolerable when he woke up. A little bundle of pure energy and excitement that used to be so easily quenched by letting him play with the other children. Now, you and Din are his only sources for entertainment, which gets tiring quickly.

And after two days in hyperspace looking for Ahch-To, you were just about ready to lock him in the refresher一obviously you love the kid and would move hell and earth for him一you’re just incredibly tired.

Finally, you’re approaching the planet. Sitting in the cockpit with the child in your lap, you watch eagerly as Din flies the ship toward the blue planet. The stories Kuiil told you slowly becoming a reality一more than just a dream you conjured to pass the time on Arvala-7.

It’s gorgeous一covered almost entirely in water一more water than you’ve ever seen in your entire life and it amazes you. It’s not a problem until the ship is through the atmosphere and you realize you don’t see land mass anywhere. Din continues to fly the ship across the planet’s surface, both of you keeping your eyes peeled for green.

“It doesn't look like this planet is anything but water.” He says apologetically but you’re not giving up that easily. You didn't bring them all this way for nothing.

“Just keep looking.” Your eyes don’t leave the window, desperately searching for any sign of land. And then, you see it. Just across the horizon一a spot of green. Din sees it too, continuing to fly the ship towards it until it expands to reveal a small island.

Guiding the ship across a rocky landing zone, he manages to find a smooth patch of grass to land the Crest. Hardly able to wait a second longer, you bound down the ladder and out of the hatch before he’s even turned off the engines.

Stepping onto the rocks of Ahch-To feels oddly familiar. Not exactly the feeling of being here before一but almost like you walked through this place in a dream. Smiling, you look out across the island and watch as the waves of the vast sea crash over the rocky shore. It’s beautiful. Just how you imagined it. You wish Kuiil could see it.

“It doesn't look like it’s ever been inhabited.” Din’s voice sounds from behind you as he descends the ramp. You spare a look away from the gorgeous scenery in his direction to see the child tucked comfortably in his arm. The big eyes of the child look around, just as marveled as you to see the planet.

“I never said Kuill's stories were based on fact.” You shrug with a smirk, turning back to the large island and beginning your trek.

You climb around the island, every nook and cranny, cliffside and cave一Din and the child following close behind, but giving you space. It really is like Kuiil described. Isolated enough to hide someone一a Jedi, though he never mentioned them by name. Endless green that’s wonderful to look at after your lifetime of watching a red sun rise against sand.

But, even as warmth fills you and the dreams become reality一you can’t help the dread that fills you slowly as you realize this is it. It’s beautiful, but there's nothing more here. It’s an island. That’s it. Nothing lives here.

Wait一

“Hey, look!” You exclaim as you spot something flying overhead. At your loud words, Din’s first response is to pull out his blaster and aim it at the sky一but you quickly grab his arm and push it down. His chest is heaving as if, for a moment, he thought something was about to attack you一but when he looks back up一

“It一It’s a bird.” He grumbles, shoving his blaster back into is holster.

“Yes. It’s a bird.” You grin, looking back up at the sky to see the bird flying around overhead. “And you said this planet wasn’t inhabited.” You elbow his arm and he moves it away with a huff.

“I meant by一”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you meant.” You laugh as you move forward, already following the bird as it flies toward the other side of the island. Your pace picks up as the bird starts to get smaller, desperately trying to keep up with it, until you’ve rounded a corner一and it’s gone.

“Kriff.” You kick up some dirt in disappointment, thinking that’s the end of it before you suddenly hear a chirp at your feet. You jump backward in alarm, only to see a furry little一bird?

It’s small and somewhat adorable, looking up at you with big eyes that remind you of the child. It just sits there looking at you, awkwardly, before picking up it's wings and taking off again.

“Wait一” You call after it, quickly moving forward to keep it in your sight.

You hear Din call your name from a little ways away, you’ve turned too many corners that he can’t see you anymore. You don’t mean to worry him, but you also want to see where this path leads. The path rounds the side of the mini mountain一one step to the right and you’d fall to the sea below.

Stumbling slightly on a loose rock right over the waters edge, you can’t see the bird anymore and are considering turning back and returning to Din, but something catches your eye. He calls your name again and you decide not to leave it unanswered.

“Yeah! I’m over here一I’m fine!” You reassure him before turning to look back at一a passage. It’s narrow一likely nothing bigger than Din would be able to fit through一in fact he might not be able to with his shoulder beskar.

You look back once before stepping through and following the rock passage. You’re walking into the mountain by the looks of it. Fingers skimming the stone as you walk through the dark, until it opens up to reveal一

A giant stone room.

Okay, this planet has definitely been inhabited. If not currently, then it has been before. The ceiling is so tall it must be what was under that stony hill you originally saw when landing on the island. The floor is smooth, not naturally occurring and definitely built by someone.

You slowly walk into the middle of the room, looking up as you walk and spinning slightly to see it from all angles. It’s when you make it to the middle that you hear a grumble from the narrow passage. You turn to see Din struggling to get through, holding the child out in front of him to not squish him. Holding back a giggle, you jog forward and take the child from his hands so he can get the rest of the way through.

“What is this place?” He asks once able to look around the stone room.

“I don’t know.” You continue inward until you reach the end of the room where it opens to the outside. It’s almost like a balcony一but in reality it’s a cliff off the miniature mountain. There’s a rather large stone on the cliff and you walk over, sitting on it with the child in your lap.

“Careful.” He warns, stepping forward quickly. “It’s a long way down.”

“I’ve got it.” You assure him as you look out across the horizon.

You can feel something. You’re not sure if it’s your own emotions or something else一but it’s new. It’s a comforting feeling that spreads through your fingers and up your arms. Is this the force that the armourer spoke of?

The child’s little hand lifts as he squints his eyes. You’re not sure exactly what he’s doing, but you let him as you close your eyes. You wonder if this is how he feels. This comfort from a force no one can seem to fully explain.

Your hands leave his sides一him still secure in in your crossed legs一you let your hands fall to the rock under you. Spreading your fingers, you rest your palms on the cool surface as your eyes remain closed. You’re not exactly surprised that Din is being so quiet, he’s likely just watching from the side in a mix of interest, confusion, and concern.

You focus all your energy on your breathing, calming yourself to a point of complete tranquility and letting every other sense go numb. It’s there一you can feel it.

You’re not sure if it’s connecting to you of the child in your lap一but you can feel it.

All you can see is blue sky as your head rests face up on his lap. You know that you have to leave soon but you don’t want to. There is something so calm about this place. A feeling of safety that allows you to let your guard down. Not to mention the sound of waves crashing over the shore line mixed with bird cries in the distance. It’s all so peaceful.

You’re so zoned out that you don’t feel Din’s hand move from the ground to your cheek. He was also leaning back on his hands to look out across the water while you looked up at the sky一but now one of his hands rests on your cheek, thumb moving gently to get your attention.

“You should start thinking about where you want to go next.” He says and you nod once, looking up at him. “We need to go back to Nevarro first.”

“Credits, right.” You sigh, but you can’t even find it in you to be put off by the realization when you’re so utterly comfortable.

“Can’t live off what we have for much longer.” You can tell he’s trying not to sound disappointed himself. This has been a real shift in lifestyle for him一while he’s not a fan of all the down time一he likes spending it with you.

“I get it.” You mumble, looking back up at the blue sky you never got while living on Arvala-7. It’s beautiful一do most people wake up to a blue sky?

Turning your head away from the sky, you look down his legs to where the baby sits propped up on Din’s feet, using his foot as a backrest. Unable to stop yourself, you burst into a fit of giggles, dwelling in the next few moments of utter contentment. You can even feel Din’s thighs shake slightly under your head in silent amusement.

You’re going to miss this while he’s gone.

“I figure you took my advice?” Karga’s amused voice rings from across the table.

You sit beside Din, your thighs can’t help but touch with the small confines of the booth Karga insisted you all sit at, not taking into account Din’s bulky armour. The baby sits happily in his crib beside you while Karga leans back on the seat across the booth, looking between the two of you with a smile, his eyes crinkling in delight.

“Advice?” Din’s deep modulated voice asks from beside you, sounding more than a little uncomfortable.

After the destruction left in the wake of Moff Gideon, Nevarro had to rebuild. The cantina used as a shield was destroyed and Karga is left to use a small pub across the way as his Guild headquarters.

“Looks like you two enjoyed yourselves. You were practically glowing when you stepped foot off that tin can of a ship.” Karga nods at you with a smirk and you try not to blush as Din’s hand finds your knee under the table.

“You have the pucks?” Din is quick to change the subject, likely worried Karga is making you uncomfortable. With a sigh, likely disappointed they’re going straight to business, Karga nods and reaches into his jacket.

“We have...a smuggler...last known location was Coruscant.” He places a puck in the middle of the table and you look down at it curiously, never actually seeing a holopuck up close before. As he talks, he pulls pucks from his coat. “A wanted mercenary, a missing person, and...another smuggler. Take your pick.”

“I’ll take them all.” He doesn't even hesitate and you can’t help but look up at him sharply. Instead of returning the look, he just squeezes your knee, continuing to look straight ahead at Karga.

“Now, hold on, my friend. Surely you have一” Karga starts to protest but Mando is quick to interject with a level voice.

“Fuel isn't cheap these days.” Is all the explanation he gives and you hold your tongue, not wanting to express your disappointment in front of Karga. After a moment of consideration, the man across the table nods, pushing the pucks forward.

“I did say you’d have the pick of all quarries.” He mumbles in amusement as you and Din collect the pucks, you place the fourth into the crib when it doesn't fit in his utility belt pouch. “And, I’m a man of my word.”

When Din doesn't answer, resorting back to his usual stone silence, you speak for him.

“Thank you.” You say gratefully and Karga gives you a swift nod in acknowledgement.

It’s not that Din means to be rude, in fact, it’s likely not his intention at all. It’s just natural. Why exchange empty words just to fill up space when silence always seems to get his point across?

“You should stay for a drink. I’m sure the little one could use some bone broth?” Karga looks down at the bundle of green he became fond of just like everyone else seems to.

“We should get go一” Din starts to decline but you interject before he can finish.

“We’d love to.” You don’t miss the way his hand tightens just a bit more on your knee, but when you look up at him, his gaze softens一not that you would know.

It’s amusing the things he’ll put up with to make you and the kid happy.

[muffindaddystyles]

OH NO BABY!!

Summary: It was Harry who swimmed in freezing ass water but someone else (his lovie) ends up catching a cold, caring boyfriendrry, a mighty bit momrry.

Turquoise chilly waves crashes against the dark coloured stones as Y/N watches her button sized boyfriend; summat all with rosy cheeks and nose, un-tattooed, wearing excessively short knickers (so tiny it shows the curves of his cute bum perfectly), being a cheeky giggly boy while shooting his swimming scenes. 

She wheezes a cold puff of breath winding her brown overcoat closer around to keep her warm but it fails to do so and she might get a scolding from Harry for being silly and waiting outside the whole time just to watch him but she doesn't care, she's extremely proud of him and comes by the sets of My Policemen once a time she gets day off her job early. 

He paddles towards her like a penguin buried into humongous coats and towels, his brows furrowing together trying to recognize her dainty self waving him quite enthusiastically from far and his face softens at that.

Shaking his head when her teeth clanks together from the gush of stinging cold breeze. 

"Lovie'," He wraps his nippy palms around her hands bringing them to his frosty lips to blow warm air, knowing she hates cold and gets real whiny from not being able to bear it yet she stood in it for two hours for him means alot to him because his assistant told him someone was waiting for him but didn't tell it was his actual sweet baby.

"How you're not a frozen chicken yet?" She asks sighing once in the heat of his given trailer and he makes an exhultant purring noise when she cups his face, lulling it left and right playfully, "Are you okay? She queries worriedly looking down at him with batted eyes and he muses a chuckle at her sweetness. 

"Baby 'm fine -- feeling hot by the way now you're inside the van." He grins bashfully tugging her closer with his knees pulled around her legs, "You better go back home .. I don't want your cutesy bum to freeze to death." She squeaks surprisingly when he smacks her ass playfully and drags her down by pulling the lapel of her coat to smear his lips against her's fondly -- heart bigger than it's normal size at her sight making his day 100x better. 

"I brought you lunch, it's on that shelf." She tells him standing at the stairs of trailer and he waves her blowing a heartious kiss her way, "Call me when y'reach, yeah?" 

"Kay, bye!" Her awfully pretty smile covets dimples into his cheeks and he just want to throw himself into the sofa piled with blanket and scream into it like a teenager girl.

Though, she keeps sneezing through whole ride -- eyes teary, nose runny and fingers twitchy not to mention her numb toes making her feel very uncomfy. Her eyes dropping from being too sleepy and lazy. 

She's about to catch a cold. 

Tiredly she drags her feet upto their flat and doesn't even pet their kitten strawberry on the way to their bedroom and when reaches it flops over blankets snuggling into them -- without even changing into comfy clothes. 

Sirens everywhere as she wakes up with a groan holding her forehead to subside the pound in it and it's feeling like blazing alarms are going off in her head making her want to puke. 

It's dark outside. She's been napping for hours. She manages to sit on the edge of bed deciding whether she should stand up to go to washroom or not for that all she could see is floating wooden floor. 

Weakly she trudges towards the kitchen filling a glass of water and pulls out a thermometer from one of the drawers -- she was too occupied in waiting for it to beep  then checking her fever that she didn't hear Harry announcing; he's home. 

She gasps quickly shoving it under her bum, "Don't you hide that thermometer from me!" He squalls rushing towards her in two big strides of his daddy long legs and her eyes widen comically. 

"I was just checking and I don't have any kind of fever!" She squeals not letting him get hold of the thermometer and he glares down at her sternly, "You're burning up, baby." He hisses, the back of his hand pressed to her forehead. 

She stands up and does a twirl for him shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, "See 'm fine —- " Only to pass out but Harry was quick to take her fall in his arms gracefully squinting his eyes down at her.

"Yeah . . . could see how fine you're." She gives in atlast. Knowing he's going in a severe mommy mode.

"Put your arms around me — Or just fall on me, yeah that works too." She nods and let him slip his socks clad feetsie under her soles to walk them to their bedroom, he sits her down and she wails when he opens their wardrobe to get her something comfy. 

"Nooo." She bunches up into a ball as he fists her vest top to pull it over her head, "it's freezing -- 'm feeling so cold." He frowns because he's sweating his ass off from the heat. 

He sweeps her hair away from her eyes rubbing a hand down her back continuously, "It'd be a sec, pet. Then I'll warm these blankets in the drier 'n make ye' some soup, so you'd be all cosy 'n snuggly … hmm?" She's very unconvincing when sick. Wants him and just him by her side. 

She wipes her nose with her sleeve and sniffs, raising her armpits in air for him and  shivers terribly when he undressed her completely, "Oh me poor baby." He leans in to kiss the corner of her lips but she pushes him away grumpy-ly. 

"You're g'na get sick too, dummy." He pouts childishly helping her to put her legs in her fuzzy pyjamas, plants tender kisses to her ankles once covering her feet in aloe-fused socksies.

When she stands up on wobbly legs with the support of his folded thigh he almost jumps asking worriedly. 

"Where are ye' goin', missy!??" 

"To washroom." Her voice barely audible her throat achy and scratchy, "'M comin' with you." He tells her demandingly and she groans knuckling at her eyes. 

"No."

"You wanna walk by yourself? Alright, let's see that." He leaves her wrist and she gasps tripping forward from weakness -- catching the nearest furniture before the damage. 

"Moppet, stop being so stubborn and lemme take care of you … look at you, an absolute horror –-- never been this frail." He's just so caring it makes her want to cry and have a full on water-works party. He pushes her from waist to himself pecking her sweet smelling hair and takes her to washroom. 

After that he tucks her beneath two fluffy blankets and leaves her to make some soup for her and bring her medicine, "Harry!" She yowls pinching the blankets closer around her round small head and feels bad when he rushes inside in a frenzy with an utterly concerned face, serving spoon in his hand and dish rag on his shoulder. 

"What happened baby? D'ya wanna throw up? Or are you feelin' freezy, should I blow up heat?" He asks in one breath and she blushes murmuring timidly, glossy eyes still very sleepy and exhausted. 

She sneezes loudly, "I just –- achoo!! –- " Another sneeze and she messes her words horribly, " –- you — " Drool on the corner of her mouth. 

"You achoo me?" He giggles softly fetching some tissues for her and wipes her nose with them as she struggles to clean it herself. 

"'M sorry, please come back." She sighs holding in an another sneeze to avoid wetting him with her yucky stuff. 

He strokes her head for a generous moment, "It's almost cooked –- oh fuck is it burning?" He sniffs the air then looks down at her with full on saucer eyes and slaps his forehead when she raises her shoulders, "Maybe?" Thankfully not all of it got ruined and his grin was obnoxious while bringing it inside. Trying to shoo away strawberry who's pawing at the frizzes of his socks. 

She smiles up at him with hooded eyes when he hovers the spoon infront of her waiting to feed her as if she's some sort of lil baby and when she tells him it's hot he blows at it and when she still tries to make excuses he stares at her strictly, "Baby." He warns her and she obliges quickly grabbing his wrist delicately to eat and his heart jumps consciously at the fact she's still burning awfully. 

"Did you even put salt in it? It tastes like nothing."

"Please stop wasting of what's left of ye voice on complaints about soup you can't even taste." He huffs and she giggles only to drive into fits of loud coughs. He rubs her back gently and puts the tray aside when she feels like throwing up from the effect of coughs and moves the bin where she's bended over the edge of bed and his legs. 

"It's okay, hmm just let it out." He caresses her back and holds her hair away from her face -- though nothing comes out since she hasn't eaten anything from morning. 

"I hate this." There comes the first sniffle and he instantly cradles her face in his soft hands, "I know dovie' you're feeling very icky right now but it'll be better in the morning, I promise." She shakes her head coughing into her elbow. 

"I don't want to eat anymore." Her voice groggy and hoarse, he lifts her gaze up towards him scolding her with a stern frown. 

"Hey, now none of that -- you're not allowed to sleep until your belly isn't full." She groans nodding at last and he kisses her shoulder as a little reward. She isn't very bratty. Infact she's Harry's polite girl. Though, When she's he makes sure to tug her back on line but at the moment he understands that how much she's suffering. 

How much she needs him to take care of her.

Taking care of her medicines and her cough syrup he turns on the lamp laying back into heap of pillows against the headboard and spreads his knees to bunch her petite weak body against his chest and closes them when she's properly snuggled on top of him, it's one of her favourite positions to sleep in when she's sick --- clinged and cuddled to him. 

Like babies on their mommy's chest with their bums sticked out.

He tightens his arms around her hiding his face into the crook of her neck and smooches tiny kisses to her sweet spot, "You're so cute baby makes me heart-ache." 

His tranquil heartbeat never fails to lull her to sleep and his hands loving on her sides always makes her feel very warm, "You shouldn't have come to beach -- moppet. Knows your immune against cold is terrible." He whispers cheek squished over her head and she murmures sleepyly —- hands bundled up between her and his front, "Just wanted to make you feel ….. loved." Her words jumblish but full of affection and drool sticks to his sweatshirt when she mumbles against his chest. 

//

Harry didn't sleep whole night making sure she's okay, making her sip her cough syrup in betweens and massaging her head but when his eyes barely dropped and the clock hit 4 in the morning whimpers and wails started slipping out of her lips as if she's in very much pain. Which infact she's. Her body shivers vigorously in his arms and even though she's sweating her fever didn't lower down a bit. 

He has never seen her in such a bad condition. 

He perches on his elbow immediately cupping her hot rosy cheek and gives it few pats crying out worriedly, "Hey baby -- wake up." When she doesn't listen his lungs felt suffocating themselves bile forming in his throat. He throws the blanket away sitting up fully and rests her head in the nook of his elbow.

"Y/N!?" He tries not to panic when she gives him no-response and before his anxiety driven self could duck down to press his ear to her heart her eyelids fluttered barely -- blue chapped lips moving slowly. 

"'M okay, bub. Don't worry ….. " 

"Bullocks. You're not okay! You can't stop shivering!! Looks almost dead." He growls angry at her and himself for not taking her to clinic soon, "You're so fucking stubborn, pet." He mutters rageously laying her gently down on the mattress and climbs down the bed to bring their coats. Almost stomping his way all around the bedroom to collect stuff. 

This time doesn't ask her if she could walk or not and glides his arms underneath her shoulders and knees to haul her firmly against his chest -- blanket still wrapped around her shivering body. 

"Shh, shh my baby. You're g'na be okay, 'm so sorry you're in so much pain." He tries to soothe her while walking down stairs of the building. 

Turns out she caught pneumonia. They had to stay two hours at the clinic for her drip and some injections for which he had to hold her down from wiggling and squirming her way out. 

Made her rest till the fever was gone temporarily then drives them back home when assured that her condition isn't worsening and right now when she's cuddled up into his side with strawberry sleeping on his thighs he nudges her lightly.

"Dovie' I love you so much but that doesn't mean you can scare the shit outta me like that." She just mewls sinking deeper into his side.

"No more set visits fo' you." He tells her seriously and she perks her head up coughing mildly and he raises his forefinger in a demand for her to stay quite, that there's nothing to argue, "You could watch me for once 'n all at the big screen." 

"Harry……" She whines tugging the hem of his sweatshirt.

"No, Harry." He pets her head down back on the pillow. 

Without saying anything she distance herself from him like a grumpy shrimp and fusses under her breath. He supresses his amused chuckles noting the silliness of this girl and drags her back by her ankle towards him.

"Come back here, you little betrayer." He gasps dramatically and squishes her in his embrace till she gives up and herself nuzzles up into his homely scented neck.