#you took a boiling hot bath with the door closed and hoped the steam would clear your sinuses and that didnt help

[im-am-not-a-weenie]

🍓playing with their hair for the first time

Writing bg3 hc Now! Will also still be doing rdr2 a/n at the bottom for more info! spelling errors

Gn Reader

Gale, astarion,halsin,

Establish relationships

🍓Gale

You see Gale sitting all alone enjoying a good book. He always looked cute when he was enjoying what he was reading, he looked so concentrated and expressive

You couldn’t help but walk over to the wizard. “Mind if I join you?”. He smiled and patted the ground beside him “Of course, what’s better than a good book? Good company to share it with”

You sat down and made yourself comfortable ” What are you reading” You looked curiously over at the book in the wizard's hands. “Ah, It’s nothing really, just another tail of dragons and knights. I could read it aloud if you wish?”

He looked a bit nervous “On second thought you’ve probably grown tired of hearing my voice”. You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze “Never”

You laid back, Gale didn’t look very comfortable, being hunched over “Here,” you said sweetly and pulled him down so his head was on your lap “Better?” He looked a little stiff but quickly regained his composure “Yes, yes it’s quite nice”

As He started to read Your hand absentmindedly went to his hair, and your fingers started to card through his brown locks, you felt him tense but then relax back into it

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back listening to him read, but after a long you heard him trail off, opening one of your eyes to peek at him you could see he was starting to doze

With a smile, you gently took the book out of his hands “Huh?” He opened his eyes to look at you. ”you were falling asleep” your hand still in his hair

“Could You…could you maybe keep doing that?” Gale mutters sheepishly. You just laughed softly and smiled

That night Gale fell asleep with a smile on his face and your hands in his hair

🍓astarion

The party decided it would be best to stay at a tavern that night, treating themselves and of course, astarion headed straight towards where the bath was located

It had been an hour and still no sign of him, getting a tad bit worried you decided to go check on him, you knocked on the door softly “Star? Are you alright in there?” You were met with a muffled “Yes darling quite alright”

After a few minutes you hesitantly “Can…can I come in?" he automatically responded with a "Yes darling"

as you opened the door thick clouds of steam poured out. "hurry my love, we wouldn't want it to get cold in here now would we?" astarion was sitting in a bath you could only assume was boiling hot water "Star, how hot is that bath? your skin is red" he waved off your concern

"now what did you need?" his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "I was hoping to join you honestly" his expression dropped as he opened his mouth to speak but then closed it

"You can say no" your voice filled with nothing but love and encouragement. he hesitates for a moment before finally saying "It's just I don't believe the tub would be big enough for us both that's all" he flashed you a charming smile. you knew there was a deeper reason but didn't push

"i was actually thinking of just sitting in here with you. Would that be ok?' he looked taken aback "You just wish to sit here with me that's all?" you gave a nod "Well I mean who wouldn't want to sit here and marvel at my beauty, go ahead"

as he reached for the soap you beat him to it "Here let me." pouring a generous amount of soap into your hands, making your way behind him, first lathering the soap in your hands before sinking them into his hair

"What are you doing?" his body tensed up slightly. "washing your hair what does it look like" teased him with a sweet voice as your fingers gently massaged his head. "I get that darling but why?" his voice sounded unsure, not used to non-sexual intimacy.

"Because I love you, and you deserve to get pampered" his breath caught in his throat and quickly cleared it "Of course I do, I'm glad we're on the same page." you gave him a small laugh as you kept washing his hair, he closed his eyes and lent back into your hands. you swear you could hear him purring

you both sat in comfortable silence until he softly said "I love you too" You could hear the faint smile on his lips without having to see it

🍓Halsin

this morning was a rare morning, not only did you wake up early voluntarily, but you woke before Halsin which never happened. (to be fair he just got back from a long and exhausting journey but still!)

waking up feeling warm. not sure if it was because of how the sun was hitting your face or because of the giant man holding you close to him

your eyes fluttered open and you were met with the sight of a sleeping Halsin. he looked peaceful. the sun made him look radiant, glowing almost, as his chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm. something else caught your eye. he had his hair down

yes his hair was always down but it was always pulled back, but this morning it sprawled messily over his pillow, and a couple stray strands laid on his face. you couldn't help but reach out and brush it away

his eyebrows frowned before he quietly spoke "Your hands are cold" You quickly retracted your hand. "sorry" you whispered back, Halsins eyes opened slolwy. blinking away the sleep, he smiled and grabbed your hand and placed it back on his cheek, and kissed the palm of your hand. "it's ok my heart"

you could feel your face heat up all you could do was smile dumbly "It's down" was all you said and tucked a few more pieces behind his ear. "does it bother you my heart?' you shook your head, all too eager to see the druid with his hair down. "no, I like it"

running your hand through his usually well-kept hair. "how is it so soft" you wondered out loud, Halsin just chuckled and let you have your fun.

he let out a content sigh. "awfully affectionate this morning. not that I mind" his lips pressed against your forehead. "Is something the matter?"

"no, I just missed my bear that's all" You studied his face, taking in every detail. "I think I finally understand the whole "appreciate nature's gift" thing." the druid just laughed warmly and shook his head fondly

the two of you spent all morning like that. his arms wrapped around you and you playing with his hair

🍓A/N

hey guys im back! so much as happened i graduated and im 19 now? life has been crazy!! i know this is different from my usual content but playing baulders gate gave me inspiration to write again. dont worry i will still take requests for RDR2 but i will also be writing for BG3. With that said im cleaning out my inbox so if you see your request finally go through a year later.............🤷‍♀️. i will also be taking BG3 requests. i did astarion, gale, and halsin i think i can write them comfortably. but do not be scared to request other characters if you really wanna see me write for them or have a really specific scenario in mind. i will also try to post every other Wednesday

love yall and thx for the support <3

[zombiesama]

My little sister is just. Crying in the bathroom bc shes so sniffly like. Mood. I get it. But pls I just need to brush my teeth, not listen to the story I lived for 14+ years.

[darling2411]

Comfort

I found the gift on Pinterest, credits to the owner

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: You comfort Charles after his loss at the Grand Prix in Imola

warnings: swearing,fluff, so none really

word count: 800

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Charles?Love where are you?”

“M’here” came, muffled from the direction of the bedroom.

Leaving your things on the kitchen table you went straight to where you adumbrated your boyfriend.

When you opened the half closed room door fully you noticed your lover laying on the bed, tangled in the sheets and head buried in his pillow.

“Hey” , you greeted Charles softly while sitting down.

“Hello mon ange.”he responded.

“Can I bring you something? Do you maybe want a Chamomile tea?”

“No,I don’t want anything,” he said, sounding dejected.

“Oh my love.” You sighed. You had to do something. Had to get his hopes up again somehow.

Before you left the room you kissed Charles’s head softly.

You walked into the bathroom and started preparing a bath.

When the tub was filled with hot water you once again went into the bedroom to find Charles in the same position as before.

“Hey baby. I drew you a bath.” You couldn’t see it but he smiled at your sentence. It wasn’t necessary but he loved that you wanted to make him feel better.

“Okay” he responded prior to him standing up with a heavy sigh.

You gifted him a soft smile that he absolutely adored and then took his hand, pulling him into the bathroom.

“Mon amour?”

“Yes?”

“Can I maybe get the Chamomile tea now?”

You smiled and answered” Of course, you get undressed and into the tub and I bring you the tea. Would you also like to eat something?”

“No, just the tea, thank you.” He said with a kiss to your hand.

While the water began boiling in the kettle you thought about how else you could cheer Charles up. Maybe he needed to talk? Let his frustration out? Sex?

Maybe everything?

You hated this. Hated that he felt so bad and that there was nothing that you could do really to help him.

You could only be here.

With the steaming cup of Chamomile tea you made your way back to Charles.

“Here you go darling.”

He had his eyes closed and his head rested on the back of the tub, when he heard your voice he opened his eyes.

“Merci,my love.” Taking the tea from your hands he sat up and took a sip. Immediately hissing due to the temperature.

“Merde! This shit is hot.”,he cursed.

“Charles,” you laughed,” what did you expect? Of course the tea is hot. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” You shook your head still laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me mon chérie. It’s not funny. Look, I burned my tongue. “ His words accompanied by him sticking his tongue out for you to see ,made him sound funny.

It made you laugh even harder.

“At least one of us is having fun.” Charles said with fake hurt feelings.

Rolling your eyes you wanted to leave the room and go start on dinner, but you were interrupted by Charles calling”

Wait! Where are you going?”

“Start preparing dinner?”

“You are not coming in?”he asked.

“Oh. I assumed you wanted to be alone. To relax or something like that.” You shrugged.

“No no. I want you to give me company. “

You nodded and undressed yourself before stepping into the hot water.

You were now facing him. His and your legs touching.

Before you could even register anything he grabbed your sides and pulled you to him. You were pressed against each other, chest to chest. He probably could feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“Do you need anything else?” You asked a little breathless.

His lips grazed yours lovingly.

“No nothing, I just need you. You and your comfort.”

Then he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet and short. Too short, but before you could dive back in for another one he pulled you impossibly close to him and threw his arms around you before burying his face in your neck where he let out a content sigh.

„I'm here for you, my love.”you whispered.

“I love you mon chérie.

“And I love you, Lord Perceval.”

You could feel his laughter kiss your skin before he really pressed kisses to it.

“ The water is getting cold, let's go and cuddle in bed please.”

“Alright” you answered with a content smile.

Wrapped in towels you laid down in bed where Charles once again pulled you to his chest and then kissed your forehead before closing his eyes.

Looking utterly at ease.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

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

Steamed Buns and Spicy Fried Chicken

Woooohooo guess who was inspired for tooth rotting sappy birdie romance? You guessed it, me! Here's a little piece for honey baby Hawks.

Pairing: Hawks/ Reader

Summary: Hawks takes you on an impromptu first date on the roof of the tallest skyscraper in Fukuoma and things take quite the romantic turn.

Tags: romance, fluff, the smoochies™

"I think you should let loose for once."

The small urban street you're walking in is flooded, deemed and outshone by the numerous dark silhouettes of bypassers that seep onto warm golden light that eagerly emits from each tiny shop. Their voices are loud and they merge into one another creating an unbearable buzzing that you can feel thudding in the hollows of your chest. Yet, despite that, despite your ears filtering most of the words that are spared from left and right, rising amongst others, you make out his voice perfectly.

The playful raspy voice licks on your eardrums and spreads a honey flavored pleasure and despite the fact that it makes you freeze on the spot, you can feel his words spill out of your ears, drip onto your earlobes and rush their way to the back of your neck.

Your hand irrationally sneaks up to your nape and taps on the harsh skin there in hopes of catching a guilty crimson feather on the spot, but you're surprised to find that you're merely shivering on your own. You let out a huff of air exit your mouth as you bring your empty fist and rest it on your uniform clad chest, the skin in your fist tingling from the raw force of your skin-digging fingernails.

"I'm loose all the time." You shrug.

"No you're not!"

Your eyes don't bother leaving the shop's window and tangerine lights bathe your face in the most iridian way while white quivering dots of adoration dance on your (e/c) orbs, as if they flicker like the dying fire of a candle light.

Before you, protected by a transparent tempered glass that looks like it has been licked to a shiny perfection lay the most beautiful sight you could ever set your eyes on. A plethora of round, puffy, ivory colored buns that gush ribbons of beautiful delicious steam. You almost taste the fluidity and jiggle in their teeny tiny movements as they coo next to eachother, your mouth watering by the extraordinary delight that causes serotonin to blast through your brain like a firework.

Your mouth is drenched in the bitter taste of craving, the all too familiar sheer saliva produces in gushes from the underside of your tongue and your wet muscle can't do anything other than bow down to it, bucking away every few seconds for the watery substance to wash inside your mouth.

"You're so stiff even when you're looking at something that you like." Hawks dares to speak again, and you bask away from his voice that is masked with what you perceive as arrogance.

But it's not.

It's not, but there's not way for you to know because you fail to notice how his hand shoots up to you to comfortly rest on your shoulders or how he pulls it away as if he's been electrocuted even before he manages to reach you. It's not, because you've only chosen to perceive him as your cocky millennial boss. It's not, but you won't let his kindness get through you. And that what's killing him ultimately and all the time.

At least, that's what he has come to understand from your interactions. Nevertheless, tonight's air feels a different type of fresh.

But for now, before letting his mind be filled with any other thought that bothers him, he can't help but stop and stare. He's standing only a few meters behind you, his feathery wings shivering from time to time as he refuses to jolt his body to your direction. His golden honey colored irises are fixated on you and a contintinuous thudding inside his chest is slowly growing louder by each passing second.

Could it be what he thought it could be? The mellow sweetness of a live that he's yet to even proclaim to himself taps in the back of his brain occasionally and tonight it's decided it's going to break down the norms. The little pitch of self control bows before the coiling in his stomach, the little monster that is cooking him up and torturing the words he doesn't ever dare speak out loud.

Looking back, Hawks would be lying if he said that he hadn't arranged your patrols in perfect synch. You were the perfect jewel to his agency, the most fierce adding to his team. With the heart of a true, selfless hero you had wiggled your way into the hearts of the citizens, and apparently, into his own as well. And rightfully at that because when he was a high profile celebrity bathed by the cold, yellow light of the limelight that followed him everywhere, you remained a vessel of self sacrifice for the masses a strong youth that strayed away from the public eye.

He was amazed by how you had stated that you didn't want publicity when you took his offer to be scouted by him. He was even more amazed by your borderline barbaric nature at times, but he attributed that to your brute quirk. Inhuman strength and stamina was what you had been blessed with and you had taken your abilities to a level that no one in your category could ever reach, rightfully earning your hero name, Amazona.

And somewhere between being you feisty, angsty and a little bit of a naive sweetheart Hawks had found himself unable to rip himself off your presence. He usually contemplated on whether he annoyed you or whether you were just secretly hating him, but despite the snarly remarks and the harsh glares you'd shoot him, the kindness and respect you showed to his person was unmistakably honest.

And thus the throbbing of his heart pumps scarlet blood in violent a gushes in his veins and a tiny spec on his thigh twitchs quietly, probably by the exhaustion of previous days and his eyes squint in borderline adoration while he is watching you as soft creases of skin accentuate the sides his puffy undereyes. Hawks feels his body shiver despite the warmth his camel jacket provides for him and his shoulders spasm slightly in quick bird like movements.

He has never seen you under such light both quite literally and metaphorically, but there's something about the way coral colored LEDs concentrate on illuminating your hair and the way your eyes shine in the wettest glimmers that allows them to remain wide in this heavenly state. Hawks feels unable to resist to this gut churning charm and for once, he decides to close the distance between the two of you.

He hopes he's right to do so because his anxiety is chewing on the inside of his intestines like a hungry wolf.

People occasionally comment on his public appearance, they throw small waves at him and mouth small greeting words but at the moment he misses all of them, his eyes fixated on your reflection in the window. Lingering his gaze between your reflection and your side profile Hawks' mouth falls agape, a few strings inside his chest close to ripping. He takes a notice of how your eyelashes graze over the top of the apples of your cheeks, or how your lips curl upwards in the tiniest bit, despite your lips being pushed in a thin line, resting between your teeth.

"I mean... take a picture it'll last longer." He comments awkwardly, as if it's something that will make you let him in and that previously reluctant hand of his is wiggling its way into your clothed shoulder.

You shake your head, your face falling into it's typical nonchalant expression. "Haha, very funny Hawks."

"What?" He smiles a sultry beam at you, his right eye squinting almost to a tiny blink, making you click your tongue.

You grunt a small yet harsh groan and snap your head to the opposite direction of his, trying to escape his golden gaze as you feel your insides boiling with anger as your hands cross under your bussom. He never fails to amaze you with his arrogance and his constant teasing, but tonight he's way too close to you and you need to be alone because shit, his cologne is making the inside of your nostrils cream in orgasmic jolts. Well, with a sniffling and and cringle of your nose you try to attribute the runny nose to the chaste kisses of tonight's wintery breeze.

"Do you want to buy them?"

"What?"

"You're basically ready to propose to these buns, might as well have them in your stomach."

Its only for a second that you turn your face to his direction, your foot stomping on the ground as your pouty face stares back at him. Your puckering lips are prominent, the little creases on them carrying all of the fun in your expression and in the fragment of a second Hawks' espression falls into a stable, serious one, mimicking you.

"Quit acting like a child, you want the buns right?"

Despite the fact that there's little distance between the two of you you feel like you are miles apart. And for some reason your heart screams at you that you want to get closer. He emits a burning hot light that pulls you in and it's hard to ignore. You've never wanted to admit that you were drawn to it but here you were, watching his chest falling and rising underneath his camel jacket, your brain freaking out as it tries to regulate the air supply to your lungs in any case your breathing can match his.

What is it about him that makes your heart pulse and your stomach coil? You were supposed to be mad at him for being sarcastic over your buns, weren't you?

Your legs rub together, the longer pieces of your skirt wiggle in the air as another cold breeze blows on you. You don't realise how you come to nod to him, but it happens before you even have time to hold back in your reactions.

Hawks is known for his unmatched speed and thus your gut oozes in panic as you see him turning his feet to the direction of the store's door. Your hand extends unconsciously to his direction, sort, swollen fingers grip onto the white feathery fur of his jacket, giving a tiny tag on the spot. Fortunately it's enough to make him stop.

"No."

"No?"

Honey eyes stare into yours from over his shoulder while a few of his red baby feathers dance in your vision. Long panting sighs emit from both of you, materializing in the air and falling perfectly onto each other's ears despite the surrounding commotion. Hawks takes back the few steps to you and you prompt him forward with your hand.

"Ever since I came to Japan," you confess, your voice barely under your breath, but he still catches it "I promised myself I'd first have them only in a special occasion."

"Oh really?" He questions, his bushy brow quirking. "Can this occasion be me helping you let yourself enjoy letting loose for once?"

This time you don't shrug, you simply knowingly nod.

Hawks doesn't need to be told more, if he is quite frank. The impromptu need to act like an irrational teenager hits him and a smirk is plastered on his adorning face. This time he doesn't hesitate to run inside the store, shagging your hand away from his jacket. His head shoots in your direction every few seconds, taking in the glints of surprise in your expression and the everlasting amusing nature of your pouting lips.

When he exits the store with an enormous, thick duffel bag your lips automatically loosen up, your spit forcing it's way down your throat. You fix your eyes on him harshly and huff through your nose in slight defeat. Under any other circumstance you wouldn't let him know he's broken down your usual defense but today is not a normal day.

Hawks reluctantly gives you a prompt by tapping his hand to the small of your back while the delicious smell of the freshly steamed buns reaches your nostrils and hits you like a tsunami. If it's even possible you swear that Hawks smells even better than the buns and the non existent distance between the two of you only proves to you how enchanting the smell of coconuts and axe wood is.

"Are you hungry?"

You cock a brow to his direction, your hands finally letting loose from the linking they had perfected over your chest and coming to sway loose on your sides as your mind goes to work. You feel your stomach protest and scream in excitement at the thought of food and before you ever have a chance to speak out a loud growl violently makes it way to Keigo's eardrums. For once, your brows don't furrow as you watch him fall into a dazzling moment of bubbling laughter, you simply smile back, a few chuckles escaping you as well as your stomach protests again.

"My speed is unmatched even by your stomach!"

"Yeah."

Despite the fact that you're not immensely talkative, your voice is rather soft and fluffy. Hawks is smiling at you with a wide luminous grin as his chin cringles and wiggles everytime his lips switch positions on his face. His chin hair puffs as he comes to scratch it; the slightest indicator that he's trying to put his mind to work.

"Well how about spicy fried chicken?"

"I also want fries."

You don't miss the way his face lights up when you speak the words.

"Come with me I know a place!"

....

The downside of living in an urban, overpopulated city in Japan lays on the fact that the sky is lacking its eternal beauty, the white ball spectrums, the numerous shining jewels that form shapes which are aknowledged by all generations and all cultures; stars. In a respectful attempt to make up for such atrocious deprivation Japan offers a vast scenery of over illuminated roads and buildings, decorating the ground instead of the sky.

As a pro hero you've come to understand the importance of being able to look down while trying to aim for the stars. And nonetheless the city that lays below you is alive, much like its winged protector who's sitting right beside you while you lay on the tallest rooftop in Fukuoka, munching on the delicious food you previously purchased while roaming around the town.

His shaggy bleached hair is flowing as the strong winter breeze blows on you creating a halo of blond hair around his laid back head, emphasizing his angelic appearance. His cheeks shine in a sheer peachy red and every time he sniffles the little watery substance that begs to run from his narrow nostrils his nose shines like a prohibited red button on a remote control.

You hate to admit but there's something biblical in the way you're looking at him. Mostly because you keep comparing him to an angel when he's not even close to being one. In fact none of you is. And you pretend to blind when it comes to that fact, momentarily hoping he'll see you as an angelbird too. Not as bird of prey.

You bite onto your chicken breast with a slurp, avoiding to make your eyes meet his despite how much you want to. Hawks is enthusiastically enjoying his food as well, gobbling on numerous tenders of the chicken in his large carton bucket.

You steal glances at him occasionally as you try to keep up with the conversation he has started -something about how he plans on financially supporting new costume designs for all of your team in the agency because he wants to enhance your capabilities with costumes that don't get in your way. And when he looks back at you with the slyest of glares you purge your lips together and snarl away, giving into that little cat and mouse game the two of you currently beg to always have established.

You decide it's the way that he looks under any light that makes your heart skip beats and then race at despicable paces. The blood producing and pumping organ is rooting for him, it's basically hanging from the tip of his tongue, ready to fall down along with the words that he speaks to you.

When you reach with your hand for your buns though you find your wrist cooed inside Hawks' fist before you even have a chance to realise that it has happened.

"Nah ah!" He says, wiping his hands with the napkin in the small paper bag next to him while managing to offer one to you as well "I gotta show you something first."

He blinks his honey orbs in yours with a lingering hint of a tease in his smile, his brows wiggling continuously in a playful manner. You gulp down some saliva, the strong desire for the buns you've had for so long urging you to muster up a snarly remark at him.

"Please I don't want to see your dick on the first date." You chuckle.

"Very funny, I actually wanted to help you let completely loose before you taste the buns, you know so you enjoy them to the max. Plus they don't get cold, it has something to do with the baker's quirk yada yada." He smiles and you nod at him sturdily. "Ah wait, so this is a date?"

Cheeky bastard, of course he wouldn't let that slip.

Naturally, you pretend to resent the way his hands come to cup the sides of your face by pushing your brows together but your heart is hammering beyond the point of regulation at this point. He blinks his eyes into yours for the upteenth time this evening and teasingly bites his fuller lower lip as he notices you're staring at it.

Instantly you take notice of a small freckle that rests on his lip and you almost feel your self heat up by the idea that even his flaws seem to be so fitting to his picture perfect and it's pulling you even deeper into him.

"Hawks, you're so pretty that it hurts to look at you." You breathe, panting cold puffs of air onto his face.

His eyes squint painfully as he pulls in impossibly closer. "Keigo. It's it's just us call me Keigo."

With his lips barely brushing against yours you take a deep breath, preparing your self for what's about to happen and how much you're only craving for it. His nose is pressed against yours, your tips freezing up eachother as your breaths mix under the crystal air. He is so warm that you feel your cheeks sweating, your lip is probing down to stay agape for him as he leans in closer.

And as your heart spreads to the point you think you're going to black out he pulls back a few of his feathers lifting you up in the air and right onto his back. Your eyebrows furrow in a whiny manner but you refuse to let it show further, your lips protesting in the absence of the kiss they had been expecting. The way he's keen on edging you whether it is for your sweets or a secretly long awaited kiss is driving you beyond wild.

A few feathers run away to his demand, picking up any mess you've left behind while lifting the duffel bag in the air before vanishing into thin air.

Hawks flies swiftly in between skyscrapers while taking leaps from now and then to avoid being spotten by the media. You pass by thousands of buildings, your eyes fixating on every possible angle of the town you've never similarly witnessed before. The few sounds of surprise you let out every now and then only sound like a robin's song to him, prompt long him to maneuver his way higher in the air.

He's not done leaping down the building in an almost too dangerous manner, his excessive speed making it hard for you to feel anything other that rushes of adrenaline in your whole body. Your hands instinctively spread wide open over his wings and you think you hear him grunt a little moan as you press your chest to the base of his wings to steady yourself.

"This is astonishing." You admit, cooing your head to the crook of his neck.

Suddenly an idea strikes you, the impulse that has been gifted to you by the ability to slice through the air on top of the winged hero catching up to your adrenaline rush. It's crazy to think about and it could go deeply wrong but your gut is telling you to trust the man who has just set an intimacy between you by merely giving you his coveted first name.

"Hey don't close your eyes, here's the best par-"

"Drop me!"

"What!?" Hawks practically screams

"Didn't you say I should let loose? Drop me off birdie, if you're fast enough you can catch me right?"

Reluctantly he turns his head to your direction, catching you with the corner of his eye. Slyly you bob your head to his direction, shooting him an amused, genuine smile and that's all he needs to comply to your wish. If he can manage to pull this off he might have a little plan up his sleeve.

"Shit, this is the craziest idea I've ever heard." He hisses. "Try not to scream because the media will notice."

He says, to which you nod with determination.

As you slide from his back gravity starts to pull you in maniacally, furiously putting tons of dead weight into your body. Your ears fall deaf to your surroundings, a mellow tingling silence conquers the depths of your brain as stories of strangely illuminated skyscrapers start to appear. Your stomach drops and twirls while a numbing sensation overtakes it, it feels tons heavier than a kick in the stomach by a Nomu.

Your eyes are focused on Hawks and the gleaming worry in his eyes that contrasts with the childish, sheepish smile that is plastered on his lips. Buildings rush in vertigos around you, the strong feeling of gravity still taking a toll you is now more prominent than ever.

Before you can start feeling a hint of worry two lean arms come to wrap around you and you skyrocket in the open sky; the warmth of Hawks' skin pulls you in and you find yourself being twirled in the air, feathers flying everywhere around you as scarlet wings swoon all over your form before they jet on his back like a bird of pray.

The only thing missing is a vast moon on the background.

Hawks' is looking at you again, his eyes traveling the distance between your eyes and lips feverishly a thousand times per second, as if he's hesitant to make a move, as in if he can't hold back now, he won't be able to do so ever. One gloved hand reaches for the tuff of hair that's stuck on your chin. A slight, boiling touch is placed on the spot she drags it opposite to the tress of hair, aiming to tuck it behind your ear.

Simultaneously his other hand prompts you on him, resting on the small of your back tenderly. Once the task of getting your hair out of the way is done he cups your cheek, feeling your hammering pulse even through the harsh leather material of his glove and you lay into his palm like a touch deprived puppy, ogling at him with such adoration that sets his gut on fire.

And it's only then that he doesn't hesitate to slam his face into you, because this is the easiest way to go with it. He knows that if he waits for a little longer he will hesitate, he will try to mask away his eagerness and the anxiety you're causing him with snarly remark and he doesn't want that. He wants to feel how your lips will feel against his.

Your lips respond to his immediately, shyly moving against his. When he is sucking with passion, hungrily opening up his mouth to savor every spec of your lips you act sophisticated, tenderly opening up your mouth and closing it over his lower lip, giving him tiny little sucklings and kitten licks, casually worrying the flesh of lip between your teeth.

You resist pulling back for air, your chest begging you to let it melt under his touch and you comply, feeling your insides turn into hot destructive lava, swiping every vital organ in its passing and only he and his cooking tongue can stop your body from turning into Pompeii.

Your own hands grip on his face, pulling him impossibly closer and now you decide on fighting back, angrily opening up your mouth with need to rub it against his. Soon it's teeth that are colliding and noses that are bumping and chins that crush into one another as your tongues lick around each other, your saliva mixing in the sweetest mixture you could ever taste.

It's him that pulls back with a hitched breath and an erotic look on his face. His cheeks are bright red, if possible more so than his wings, his lips swollen and his eyes half lid. If you know him, he's about to let out a comical remark.

"Do you kiss everyone like that on your first date or just me?"

See, you know him way too well.

"Ah, so this is a date!?" You mimick his previous remark, causing a bubble of laughter to escape him as he bumps his nose into yours. "This is what happens when you tell me to let loose."

"Well maybe you should let loose more often."

And he's right. You should. But for now you want to enjoy his sweet feathery pecks while you nom on your mountain of red bean paste buns. He's worked hard on making sure you will enjoy them so you own him that one.

Don't you?

AHHHH THANKS FOR READING ALL OF THIS SMOOCHES TO YOU :*

@sasageyowrites @nobody-knows-anymore here you go babes, I hope this is something.

[novaiya]

After Midnight - Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell.

Summary: Having spent the entire day traveling with Sean, Charles and Micah, Arthur wants nothing more than to let the sleep overtake him. His plans are sidetracked when Micah wouldn't leave his hotel room, and Arthur has to concentrate hard to ignore the man and his talk as he tries to fall asleep.

Words: 2,313

Warnings: none.

AO3 Link.

A/N: Long story short, I was able to trigger a “Companion��� bug in which camp members can follow you on your adventures around the world. Google/Search it on YouTube to get a better sense for what I’m talking about. Anyway, I got Micah, Charles and Sean. I robbed and killed with them for a few hours before deciding to call it a night and went into a hotel. I got Arthur a bath, and as I’m laying in the bath, I see an icon moving toward Arthur’s room. When I left the bath and went into the hotel room, who did I see lol? Micah wouldn’t leave the room no matter what, so Arthur slept with Micah watching over him. Only when Arthur woke up the next morning did Micah finally leave the room. Weirdly enough, only Micah stayed with Arthur in the room, not Sean or Charles, though all of them were supposed to follow Arthur wherever he went.

~ ~ ~

It was nice to hang out with the guys for a change. More often than not, Arthur was alone; he would go hunting alone, collect bounties alone and help people around the country, alone. He enjoyed the solitude, of course, but something about riding with his fellow gang members down the dusty plain, all of them on their respective horses, had him treasure every minute of it. The conversations that they engaged in were a welcomed change to the usual silence that accompanied Arthur on his journeys, and the safety in numbers did not go by unnoticed. He could feel, as they passed by fellow gunslingers and bounty hunters on the road, eyes watching them warily. No one dared to look at them wrong, just the sight of all four of them, with iron on their hips and scars on their faces, made any attempt dissipate as fast as their horses did down the dirt path.

The night had fallen when they rolled into town. The shops were closing down, saloons becoming quieter and streets emptier as they rode through the Main Street. Arthur could feel a yawn make its way up his throat and did nothing to stop it. The day was long, with enough endeavors to last some people a lifetime, and he wanted nothing to do than to wash it away and go to sleep.

As they continued their way up the Main Street, Arthur saw a hotel; a small construction that by the looks of it barely stood together with the rotten boards and rusty nails, but with no other options, it would have to do.

Despite offering them, Sean and Charles declined spending the night in the crappy hotel and said they rather camp outside of town. Arthur didn’t have a chance to extend the same offer to Micah (not that he wanted to either) for the fact that he couldn’t find him (he went to the general store), so after bidding the guys goodnight, he went into the hotel, paid for a room and a bath and went to the latter first.

The first few minutes of being submerged in the water were always the best. Arthur could feel every ounce of stress leave his body along with the dirt. These few moments of peace always made him think of his dog, and despite the fact that the boy was long gone, he always smiled when he remembered him.

As okay as he was with bathing in rivers and lakes, he much preferred the steaming hot water of a hotel bath. He took the time to thoroughly wash himself, sliding the wet rag up and down his arms, legs and back. A satisfied groan would leave his lips now and then as he washed his hair, adding a slight pressure to massage his scalp.

After he finished cleaning himself, he took a deep breath and reclined against the rim of the bath. The smell of peppermint soap filled his senses and with the soap bubbles acting as a blanket, he felt himself drifting off to the dream world. A commotion outside made him let out an exhausted sight and open his eyes. He furrowed his brows as he heard someone enter the room next door, his room.

Perhaps it was Sean or Charles taking him up on his offer, deciding against bunking with coyotes and skunks.

He heaved a deep groan as he exited the bath. After drying himself off and putting on a fresh pair of clothes, he went to his room.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Arthur said as soon as he entered the room.

Micah’s back was turned to Arthur as he stood by the window of the room, looking outside. The town was quiet and all its citizens asleep. Micah enjoyed the nighttime, the quietness and calmness it provided. Like all the nighttime creatures, Micah felt the most comfortable when the sun was set and the moon loomed over.

“Well,” Micah said as he turned around, holding a cigarette between his fingers, “As you forgot to invite me, I decided to take matters into my own hands and welcome myself in.”

“Get out of here,” Arthur said as he moved across the room to a nightstand by the bed, removing his satchel and placing it there. He made a point of ignoring the man by the window as he took off his gun belt and placed it next to his satchel.

Micah didn’t move from his spot by the window, though he wasn’t looking through it anymore. As he held the cigarette between his fingers, puffing on it from time to time, he watched Arthur remove his belt, his jackets and his boots, all while his back was to him.

As Arthur turned around, ready to start pulling down his pants, he saw that Micah was still there, eyeing him in such a way that Arthur all of a sudden felt flustered.

“You still here?” he said.

Micah motioned with his hands and shrugged his shoulders without saying anything, implying that Yes, as you can see, I’m still standing here.

Micah moved from his position near the window to lean against a dresser in the center of the room.

Arthur wondered why he hadn't pushed Micah out of the room yet, and why he was now pulling his pants down, stripping down to just his Union suit in front of the man he’s known all 5 months. Not that the length of time they’ve known each other would have an effect on whether he would strip in front of him or not, but still. Perhaps he was too tired to pick a fight.

When down to his sleepwear, Arthur sat at the edge of the bed. The sleep had long passed him, and he was sharply aware that Micah wasn’t moving from his place by the dresser.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Arthur said.

“Do you want me to stand somewhere else?” Micah replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes before saying, “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Micah placed the cigarette back between his lips and inhaled the smoke. He kept his eyes on Arthur as he let the smoke escape in a cloud in front of him. After wetting his lips with his tongue, Micah replied as a matter of fact, “I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t-You don’t sleep?” Arthur said, a genuine surprise in his voice at what Micah said. Now that he thought about it though, he realized that he has actually never seen the man sleep before. He’s never seen him sleep, never seen him in his sleepwear and never even seen him lay down. In fact, he didn’t even think Micah had his own tent or a cot to begin with.

“Nope.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Arthur said and waved his hand at Micah, “Everybody's gotta sleep.”

“Not me.”

Despite how outlandish the statement sounded, Arthur found himself believing Micah; If the wrinkles and bags under the man’s eyes were anything to go by.

As if it only now dawned upon him, Arthur cocked his head at Micah and said, “So what did you come here for then? Watch me sleep?”

Micah chuckled, the same way he did when he wanted to undermine someone or simply be an ass.

“If that’s what you want, cowpoke,” he said.

Arthur was far too tired to engage in a pointless verbal quarrel with Micah.

Without replying anything else, he shook his head, got under the thin covers of the hotel bed and turned his back to him, determined to not let the presence of the blonde man ruin his rest.

The sleep didn’t come to him as easily as he hoped. He was hyper aware of Micah behind his back, and in the dead silence of the night, could hear the faint sound of him inhaling the cigarette smoke. He squirmed in the bed, tossing and turning as if the position was at fault for his restlessness and not Micah Bell the Third’s eyes which he could feel on his back.

“I had a brother once,” Micah said, breaking the silence, “Suppose I still do.”

Upon hearing Micah’s voice, Arthur stopped moving and laid still, listening.

“We ran together for a while; me, him and our pa. Did a lot of good stuff. Did a lot of bad stuff. You might’ve even read some of it in the papers,” Micah added with a snicker. “I trusted him. We was brothers, beyond the sense of the word.”

Micah was silent for a good while after, letting his words settle in the air and letting his own thoughts settle as well. The images of all the vile savagery they’ve done together; robbing, stealing, killing, assaulting; flooded his brain, and he couldn’t help but smile at the recollection. The smile fell however, as he remembered what followed after; his brother's hesitations, his wanting to go straight and to leave the life behind. The anger that always boiled inside of Micah came on raging as he remembered the last time he and his brother talked before the latter bailed on him and his father.

Any jest left his voice as he continued. “And then he found himself a whore, knocked her up and hightailed to the West. Last I heard he’s living a cushy rancher life in California.”

The cigarette between his fingers was long forgotten, the cinder from it falling to the ground.

Arthur was now laying on his back, his head slightly towards Micah. “What’s his name?”

“Amos. Amos Bell.”

Arthur let the newfound information settle in his head, before he finally asked, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Micah shrugged his shoulders before saying, “Thought you might like a bedtime story, seeing as you couldn’t fall asleep.”

Arthur groaned before closing his eyes and said, “Remind me to never let you near Jack.”

Whether it was Micah’s “bedtime story” or the exhaustion finally getting the better of him, but within a few minutes Arthur was out, sprawled out on the hotel bed, light snores coming out of his open mouth.

Micah, just as he said, didn’t sleep all throughout the night. He smoked a couple more cigarettes, drank some whiskey, checked the cabinets and the dressers, and even read Arthur’s journal. The man was deep in slumber, judging by his snores, so Micah didn’t feel any hesitation to reach into his satchel and pull out the one item that Arthur was always protective over.

He casually flipped through the pages; a drawing of a horse, a drawing of a bunny, another drawing of a horse, a portrait of a random camp member, another drawing of a horse?! For a moment, he thought Arthur was carrying around Jack’s drawing journal, with all the doodles of horses and squirrels and birds that he saw there. That was until he started coming upon short chronicles and daily logs, some of them detailing mundane things such as the bounties Arthur caught or strangers that he helped, other, more grim, such as plans of bank robberies and the friends who had fallen.

As he flipped through the pages, a log caught his attention.

November 12, 1898

Got into a bar fight when Dutch tried to sell that gold we found few weeks back. The locals don’t seem to take too kindly to strangers in these parts. Can’t blame them. We was fighting to an inch of our life when a stranger joined in. I wasn’t sure if he was on our side or not, but when the opposition started dropping, I understood. Micah Bell's name is, I think. Dutch offered him to join the gang, and he accepted. Not sure what I think of him yet. He seems hot headed and reckless, but he’s good with his guns and that’s all that matters. We’ll see.

As he flipped to the next page, something that almost never happened with Micah did; he was caught by surprise.

The very next page after the previous log was fully dedicated to a portrait of him. His mouth hung ajar as he looked at himself on the paper. The carefully drawn eyes, the long, unkempt hair, the horseshoe mustache, and his classic white hat. Even the fire and the fury in his eyes was translated onto the paper, and in the top right corner, two letters in cursive, MB.

All of a sudden, Micah felt flustered, another emotion that rarely made an appearance. He shot close the journal, a little too suddenly, and his eyes flew to Arthur’s sleeping form on the bed. He was sprawled on the bed, sheets entangled in his legs and his arms above his head, still sleeping. Micah walked to the nightstand where Arthur satchel was and slid the journal back inside before going to his previous position by the window.

The night was as dark as ever, with the sky littered with innumerable stars. Micah lit yet another cigarette and brought it to his lips. He hesitated for a moment, sending a side glance to Arthur. Vulnerable and frail, asleep and practically naked, Micah could kill him right now. No one would hear a thing as he’d plunge the knife deep into Arthur’s chest, killing him so quickly Arthur would barely have a moment to open his eyes. It would take hours for them to realize something was wrong, and at that point, Micah would be long gone, his horse’s footprints the only thing left.

A small rasp from Arthur brought Micah back to reality. He shuffled a bit, turning to his side before pulling the covers tighter over his body. The night once again fell quiet, only the sound of coyotes crying in the distance. Micah stood motionless for a few seconds, his hands itching, before he turned his attention back to the window and put the cigarette back to his lips.

[lilyharvord]

Would u consider writing a marecal fic where Mare gets pregnant without knowing in the middle of everything and then has a miscarriage during like a battle scene and she’s all confused and hurting and Cal is freaking out and then he helps her through it??

May I... may I interest you perhaps in Cal not knowing at all?... And it’s sort of in the middle of everything sort of not.... and she loses the baby while she’s alone? Um...so yeah, for some reasons I couldn’t stop thinking about that scene in The Help while I thought about this ask, so here we are...  wow this shit was sad... ): 

Closing the door as softly as he could behind him, Cal smiled to himself before softly setting his bag down next to the end table that took up more space in the tiny hallway than necessary. Edging forward to glance around the corner at the living room, his smile slowly died when he realized it empty. 

There was a set of schematics on the beat up coffee table, and a cup of tea next to it though. 

Stepping completely into the room, he ran his hands along the worn back of the couch, and glanced at the papers. They appeared to be a set of battle plans for an assault on a Lakeland stronghold. Tyton’s name was even signed at the bottom of them. Cal flipped the folder closed, not to stop him from looking at it though. The door was unlocked, which meant anyone could have been here. Gisa could have walked from her shop a few blocks over, or Ruth could have swung by and dropped off the tea leaves from the little terrace garden she kept. Neither of them had clearance for those files, and if they had seen them it put them at risk.  

“Mare?” Cal called softly, and regretfully. He hoped that his visit would be a surprise. He had a whole evening planned. First he’d surprise her here, then they’d take a walk into downtown Ascendent, and then he’d buy her dinner at her favorite restaurant on the lake. Plan never lasted the first ten minutes of battle. He found himself repeating that phrase more and more lately. 

When there was no reply, he walked back into the hallway and poked his head into the kitchen. The tea box was open, and he took the two steps it always took him to reach the counter. Mare’s shoebox apartment sometimes drove him insane, simply because it was so small they were always on top of each other when he stayed here. But it felt oddly empty without her loud personality filling it right that second.  

He set his hand on the kettle and lifted the lid. It was still practically full, and the water was hot. She had just poured her tea and sat down... he smiled and then gently closed the lid and spun around to search the kitchen. 

“I told you once that I was a good hunter. I still am a very good hunter, and if you want to be found...” trailing off with a smile, he edged back into the hallway and walked towards her bedroom. Opening the door quickly, he almost jumped into the space. The bed was mussed, she obviously hadn’t made it this morning, and her sleeping clothes were thrown on the chair near the window, but there was no sign of her. 

Now he just felt stupid for calling out like he did. 

Something clattered in the bathroom, something heavy. It almost made him jump out of his skin. “Mare?” He called to her. When she did’t reply, he crossed the room to the worn bathroom door. He remembered having to sand it down when she first moved in because the last tenant had left it a mess. 

The handle stuck when he turned it, and he tried it twice more before recognizing that it was locked. Knocking softly and calling through the wood, he tried to keep his worry out of his voice. “Mare are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Just need... a few minutes. Go to Gisa’s shop and wait for me.” 

HIs brows drew together when he heard the strain in her voice. Turning away from the door he crossed to the nightstand on the other side of her bed where he thought she kept the emergency key to unlock any door in the house. The landlord had warned her it was an old house and the doors tended to lock on their own and that it was best if she kept that key on her at all times just in case. 

Before he could open the door, there was another heavy clatter followed by a something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Spinning on his heel, he dropped his shoulder as he hit the door as hard as he could. It splintered under his weight and he ended up almost spilling onto the ground when he fell through. 

He managed to catch himself on the sink but the first thing he still noticed was the metallic reek of blood that permeated from almost every direction in the bathroom.

“Get out! Get out Cal!” Mare screamed as she threw part of the towel rack that had fallen to pieces around her at his head. He barely managed to dodge it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the puddles of blood around the tiny bathroom. His heartbeat was practically in his throat as he slowly raised his eyes to see Mare curdled up on the floor against the edge of the bathtub, her face red and tear streaked. She looked terrified, or perhaps sick. All the color was gone from her face, and that scared him more than anything. 

Hesitantly, so he didn't touch anything around his feet, he slowly crouched down, searching Mare for a wound. There’s wasn't a visible one that could have possibly spilled that much blood. 

“There’s so much blood. I didn’t think there’d be so much.” Mare hiccuped before gripping her hair in one hand and clenching it into a fist. When she closed her eyes, more tears rolled down to the join the others in neck of her thick sweater. 

“Hey, okay, it’s...” was it going to be okay? Cal didn’t think that was best thing to say anymore, so he slowly rose to step over the blood and join Mare on the other side of the puddles. 

“I lost it.” Mare whispered as he slowly sank down onto the floor with her. “I lost it.” She repeated once more when he slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her towards him so she could bury her face in his neck.

 Her face was burning against his still wind kissed skin. Glancing around the bathroom once more, Cal slowly began piecing things together. His stomach dropped to his knees when he reached the obvious conclusion, but he didn’t dare say anything in case it made this whole thing worse for Mare who seemed to have finally quieted in his arms. 

“I barely had it,” she croaked, “I didn’t even know if it was a boy or--or a girl. It didn’t even have fingers or toes.” 

He ran his hand up and down her back slowly, trying to keep her sobs at bay. She didn’t seem in danger of dropping into hysterics, but then again, Mare had always been spectacular at hiding how close she was to the edge. 

“I told Gisa... and she told my mom.” This time a tiny sob escaped. “I told Sara I was coming to see her tomorrow.” 

“Let’s get you in a warm bath.” Cal whispered against her temple. He pulled a hand away to stretch and turn the bath on when she didn’t protest. She only curled his jacket into her fist, but didn’t say anything else, not even when he slowly lifted her to remove her shirt and the remainder of her undergarments. Tossing them into the corner, he slowly wrapped an arm under her legs and lifted her off of the ground. Steam rolled out of the bath and around the room, fogging the mirror. The room was horrible at ventilating, it always had been. It drove him insane when he showered because it was like stepping out into a muggy Archeon day when he finished. 

Setting Mare in the water, he picked up a towel and set it over the largest puddle of blood before grabbing one of the small washcloths. When he turned around, Mare had drawn her knees up to her chest and was staring blankly at the other side of the bath. 

Dunking the cloth in the water, Cal sank to his knees outside of the bath before pressing it to the base of Mare’s neck. Squeezing it to run the water down her back, he whispered, “The next one...” he swallowed, realizing the mistake, and ended up biting his tongue. After this traumatic incident, he highly doubted there would be another one ever again. 

“I dreamed it was a boy two nights ago,” Mare’s spoke as if she hadn’t even heard him. Then again, maybe she hadn’t, because her lips had curled up at the edges into a whimsical smile that made him pause from wiping the cloth up and down her back. She closed her eyes and expelled a long sigh along with one more tear. He tracked its path as it rolled down her cheek, counting the long seconds that she sat in silence. The last thing he wanted to do now was say something that pushed her deeper into this terrible moment. 

When she spoke again, it was with a crushed whisper. “I’d already named him Shade.” Her shoulders caved with the name, and she dropped her head to rest it on her knees, as if suddenly the weight of that idea, or dream had become too much. Dropping the cloth into the water, he replaced it with his hand on her neck, caressing the heavy branching scars there. 

 “Then we’ll bury him by the lake. Near your favorite tree.” He whispered, and she finally turned blank eyes on him. He’d seen a similar ache in those eyes before, when she’d lashed out on the Blackrun, and when she’d stared him down on a balcony after making a decision that had almost ruined his life. It was a bone deep sorrow, an ache for a future that could never exist. 

He gave her a halfhearted smile in response, and she nodded before reaching out with a dripping hand to cup his cheek. Water rolled down and droplets landed on his pant leg, and still he couldn’t pull his eyes from her face. She returned his smile, but that look didn't leave her eyes. 

Reaching up, Cal closed his hand around hers and slowly brought her fingers to his lips. “I’m here. For as long as you need me to be, I am here.” And in that boiling bathroom, surrounded by smoke, he let unspoken words hang between them. 

And I will be there long after you no longer do. 

[janekfan]

hi mom! quick update: i had a panic attack at work the other day. luckily my coworker/manager knew what it was and helped me out but i still had to do the rest of my shift but at least i got the next day off. hours are still bad but everyone around me is talking about how proud they are of me... i just barely managed to scrape up a 50 cent raise... im one of three people on my shift... i cant take time off. i know you already did one for me but... i dont have much else to bring comfort

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072691

My darling child! <3 <3 <3 This is inadequate! And I shall do better soon! But I love you and hope this offers a little comfort!

When asked later if he’d known, Tim lied. Of course not. He hadn’t realized just how sick Jon had been, certainly didn’t know how long it’d been. After all, no one really saw him most days, skulking as he did around the archives, a flickering, limping shadow among the stacks. Jon didn’t have use for them and Tim didn’t have use for him. Not until they enacted their plan of attack and finished things once and for all.

So no. When he’d dropped by to toss Martin’s research at him he ignored the pallor, the beads of sweat dotted along his forehead and matting his curls. He paid no mind to the dark flush high in his face, the glazed distance in his eyes, the shortness of his breath as he fought to form one coherent thought. A plea veiled in a request and it gave Tim all the excuse he needed to conveniently forget to fetch Martin for him.

“T’Tim...could, could you ask Martin to, to.” Jon could barely finish a thought. Exhausted, he’d been under so much stress, running himself ragged on adrenaline and awful, terrible statements, and he just wanted to see someone kind. Someone who might help him instead of hate him. Someone who maybe didn’t want to hurt him or kill him. Or worse. “I’d like t’to speak with him? P’please?”

“Sure, Boss.”

Martin wasn’t coming.

Martin wasn’t coming and Jon was miserable. But he didn’t blame Martin for staying away. It was alright. He was probably upset with him or angry or had a hundred other reasons to avoid seeing him and it was fine.

Jon let his cheek collide with the tea-stained blotter and slow tears slipped down to join the other watermarks, the rust traces of his blood. With a thin, trembling finger he connected the scars etched into the surface like constellations, each one tied to a memory; some he remembered, some he’d forgotten, some he wished he could forget. Why the old desk even had this second skin he would never know; it was already damaged and scratched and why bother protecting it when it could never go back to the way it was before? Heaving a shaky breath that didn’t give him near enough air to sustain him, Jon closed his eyes. It would be a lovely thing if sleep restored anything or made him feel anything other than relief for the blissful span of unmeasured time he spent not feeling. Floating, dizzy and suspended here in the dark, so tired it seemed like the room was expanding around him with every hard won exhale, shrinking to crush him with every inhale.

It didn’t seem worth it.

Like he wasn’t worth it.

When Jon was asleep, he drifted along unfamiliar currents, memories that didn’t belong to him or anyone that he knew from hundreds of years ago, from mere months ago. From far underwater he listened to the sounds of the office fade away through a closed door that may as well have been a kilometer away for all the strength he had left. Everyone was leaving for the weekend and he wasn’t able to stand. Everyone was leaving and he wasn’t able to call out, snared in these fathomless depths and sinking fast.

Silence.

Thick. Blanketing. Suffocating.

He was drowning in it. Struggling to breach the surface only seconds at a time to snatch at sips of air and seawater.

The safety lights cast shadows that slipped along the floor like oil, into the cracks, up the walls Jon clung to, casting just enough light to see by and aggravating his head. He wanted to sleep. He needed water and it was how he found himself in the dingy break room leaning heavily on the sink, holding on for dear life as he weathered the salt swells, the tilting of the room and the vertigo swirling up, up, up. The first glass met its end on the floor when it slipped from Jon’s grip and he could have sobbed from the loss, from how hard he’d worked for it only to let it go. The next he cradled close in both hands, sitting at the rickety table and gulping down close to half before coming up to breathe. Cool rivulets trickled down his throat, soaked into the neck of his borrowed tee and he shivered. It was always cool down here. For the documents. Only now he was freezing, longing to fall into the cot, just rest, but it was too far away. He’d never make it as he was. He drank the rest of the water and went through the trouble of a second glass. There were no bottles in the fridge, none in the cupboards. He’d never be able to carry it back to his office. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. Why was this so hard? Laying his head on folded arms, Jon let the frustration come, shoulders shaking, and when he woke again he forced more water on himself and limped to the doorway.

Which way?

This time, a cough bubbling up in his lungs jerked him out of the deep. It was harsh, painful, and he lost the remaining water in his stomach from the force of it, tasted iron behind his tongue. Groaning, clutching at his aching chest, Jon realized he was on the floor in the hallway. Not even halfway to his goal and he didn’t remember collapsing. His limbs were lead, movement sluggish because of it, and he only managed to drag himself another meter before the spiraling of the corridor forced him to close his eyes. The fever was relentless, sapping him of everything, throbbing in his bones and boiling in his blood. Jon coughed again. The hot, tight tangle in the center of him drew tighter, a noose, instead of giving way and the black lurking at the edges of his vision swallowed the rest of it.

Martin adjusted the blanket in his arms, thinking again that it would have been easier to have put it in his bag for the walk from the train. He didn’t regret his choice though. He remembered how cold it could get down in the archives and Jon looked like he could do with a bit of comfort these days. Maybe being wrapped up in this monster would do it. Shouldering it, he took the narrow stairs, surprised that no one else was here yet. But considering none of them really wanted to do much actual work these days it made sense. Martin got his things situated at his desk, leaving the comforter overflowing in his chair before heading off to start the tea kettle warming. Glass crunched under his shoes and when Martin turned on the light it was clear Jon had dropped it. What was confusing was that he had left it. He wasn’t the most fastidious about his appearance or his surroundings but even he wouldn’t leave broken glass just lying around. WIth a crease in his brow, Martin swept it up, dumping it in the bin before turning off the squealing kettle. He prepared two mugs as usual and the only reason he didn’t drop them upon seeing Jon crumpled up in the hall was because he froze stock still.

“J’Jon?” He abandoned the tea on a desk, skidding on his knees to a stop at his side. “Jon! Oh, no, no. Jon, wake up.” Ashen, burning up under Martin’s fluttering hands, chest stuttering with half breaths. Had he been like this all weekend? Had he been like this before they all left? How did, why didn’t he check on him? Only when Martin slid his arms beneath his body did Jon stir at all, a pitiful sound of pain pulled from between his lips when he was lifted. A halfhearted cough ending in a moan. “It’s alright, Jon. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” He should call 999. That’s what he should do but with all that had been happening, was that the right choice?

“Mmar’in…” He toed open the door to document storage and laid him down, brushed back his curls and took up the cold hand Jon was reaching with. “Ma--” His grip was barely there when the deep, damp coughing jag stole the air right out of him, so strong Martin levered him forward, worried he would choke. Days. Days alone like this. He swept the tears away with careful fingers, traced the shadows like bruises beneath his eyes.

“It’s alright.” He propped him up against the corner, wishing there were more pillows to make him comfortable and pulled away, heart twisting up when Jon whimpered at the loss. “Hush, now. I’ll be back, I won’t leave you.” Quick as he could Martin gathered supplies, medicine for the raging fever, the blanket he’d brought along, a thermos of tea, checking on Jon in his fitful sleep with each trip. He sounded bad, he was having too much trouble breathing and the crackling wheeze was terrifying. The next time he came back it was with a basin of hot water and a towel. He placed it in Jon’s lap, sliding behind him to steady both him and the bowl, gentling him when he startled. “Just breathe, Jon. This, this should help.” The steam rose, bathing his face with humidity and it was probably wishful thinking but Martin thought each breath came a little easier. When Jon coughed Martin pressed a handful of tissue against his mouth, tossing the mess into the bin and letting him curl up against him for just a few moments. He was so warm. Too warm and Martin plied him with paracetamol and tea, as much as he would take before letting him fall back to sleep, smoothing a damp flannel over his forehead and leaving him to rest.

Soft, cool hands, kind, reassuring words. Jon drank them in like a desert after the rain, let them flood him, take away all the fear and loneliness he was holding onto. Martin was here. Martin was helping. Martin was holding him, saying things he didn’t quite understand in a steady voice. He wanted to cry from the relief of it, of having someone, of not being alone and he thought he might have but there was no teasing or threatening. Nothing he did made him hurt more. Everything he did made him hurt less. There was tea and pillows and blankets, warmth to replace the memory of lying on a cold floor and drifting in and out.

But he was gone now. He’d left him alone and Jon wanted him here. Struggling to his trembling legs he gave himself time to steady, limping out of the room and following the familiar voices and latching onto Martin’s. He sounded upset and Jon wondered if it was because of him. Most people were upset with him these days. He heard Basira and Melanie and Tim and he didn’t want to see them but Martin was with them and he wanted to see Martin. Martin with his kindness he didn’t deserve. He was cold. He was shaking.

Tim was yelling.

It made something in him afraid.

It made his chest hurt. It made it harder to breathe. It made him want to hide. And when he became even louder, Jon shrank into himself. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t.

“And speak of the devil!” Tim’s mocking tone rang in his head like a bell. “He shall appear.”

“Tim!”

“I’m. M’Martin? I.”

“What, Boss? What else could you possibly take that you haven’t already?”

“J’just--” Still human enough to want, too much a monster that he wasn’t allowed to have. Tim took a threatening step forward, and Jon forgot what he was going to say in favor of stumbling backwards, falling to the ground and knocking the air out of himself. He clawed at his neck, suddenly completely unable to breathe when Tim stood over him, towering and tall and seconds later Martin was taking up the whole of his horizon. Just Martin.

“It’s alright, Jon. Let’s get you back to bed, hm?”

“W’will you stay?” He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, the sniggering coming from behind the larger man confirming what he already knew. Martin had already helped him. He had no right to ask for more. But again Martin carried him to document storage and again he placed him on the cot and this time, he stayed with him, wrapping him up warm and safe and tucking his head beneath his chin. Jon shuddered, the aftershocks of his panic and embarrassment still rocketing through him. “Martin...don’t. Don’t feel well…”

“I know.” Martin pet his head slowly and Jon relished it, pressing his ear against his broad chest and listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. He probably wouldn’t remember this anyway, not with a fever like this already making everything so fuzzy, and he wanted, just for a little while, to feel safe. “I’m sorry.” It was nice to hear even though Martin had nothing to apologize for. It was still nice that someone would say sorry to him. Exhausted all over again, the space between blinks stretched longer and longer. “You can sleep, Jon.” But what if he left? He didn’t want him to leave, the thought of it wetting his face and just like before Martin wiped the tears away. “It’s okay, just close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

For the Two-part Drabble Game: Jaskier, 8 and 8! Have fun! 💜

This WAS fun! Thank you love! Hope you like it!☺️

_____

Grave digging was grueling and sometimes rather pungent work, but of course that's why the family hired Geralt. This was no fresh grave either. No, this man had been dead far too long but not long enough. 

"Darling you smell like death and shitty perfume. Bath. Then bed." Jaskier wasted no time in ambushing Geralt with orders when he'd finally finished the countercurse and come in for the night. 

"It's the herbs." He grumbled, letting Jaskier guide him to their room. 

"And a decayed corpse." Jaskier argued, opening the door to reveal a still steaming tub of water. Geralt meant to ask him how he always got the timing right, but he was always too tired. He kicked his boots off and removed everything but his shirt with ease, arms shaking as he tried to pull the fabric over his head. His hands seemed to be incapable of gripping anything but a shovel anymore and he couldn't keep hold of the collar.

Jaskier placed his hands on Geralt's elbows, "Straight up." He instructed, pulling the shirt over Geralt's head in a practiced move usually used under much more lively circumstances. 

Geralt melted into the hot water, completely submerging himself in hopes the stench would simply boil off. 

Jaskier was two steps ahead of him, soap and rag in hand, scrubbing his shoulders as soon as he surfaced. 

"You don't need to do that." Geralt always felt guilty when he did. 

Jaskier snickered, "Yes I do. You took over six hours and you're so tired you couldn't take your shirt off. What took so long anyway?"

Geralt sighed and closed his eyes, giving in as he always did in the end, "They buried him upright. Would've been quicker with help."

"We agreed I don't do graves." Jaskier chided, moving down the length of Geralt's arm, making sure to massage the tendons in his wrist. He hummed as he went, something old and familiar. 

"What's the new one you were singing this morning?" Geralt, though he pretended not to, had every one of his bard's songs memorized. 

Jaskier groaned, "A real bitch honestly. It's half an idea with an indecisive melody." 

Geralt frowned, "I liked it."

"You liked my first draft of Elaine Ettarial too." 

"What was wrong with that?" 

Jaskier laughed, hooking a finger under Geralt's chin and kissing his nose, "You're lucky you're cute, because your taste in music is awful." 

Geralt smiled, bringing his other arm out of the water to grip the bard's hand, "Cute?" He asked, placing kisses along his wrist.

Jaskier's pulse quickened, right on cue, "Absolutely adorable." 

[myownworstenemyyy]

All I Wanted - Part 10

a Javier Peña x Reader series

Word count: 4.9k (gif by @pedropcl​)

Warnings: angst, trauma triggers (mentions of blood/gore), SMUT, unprotected sex, mentions of scars, fluff, mentions of vomiting, ANGST, cliffhanger (let me know if i need to add something please!)

S/O: my lovely Tumblr wife Sarinaaa @captainclod​ 😘

A/N: this takes place right after part 9 (the morning after, anyone? 😏) i really hope y’all enjoy it! thanks for reading 🥰 (masterlist in bio)

Part 10 – Misguided Ghosts

You’ve been awake for some time now but you’re so comfortable in Javier’s warm embrace, you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed. He has one arm draped over your middle and his face is buried in your hair, his breaths tickling the skin on your neck. Throughout the night you would feel him pull you closer to his body, but even in his unconscious state, he was mindful not to squeeze you too tightly so as to avoid exacerbating your injuries. 

Occasionally you would hear him mumbling in his sleep, things like sí, mi amor and love you and be safe. And you’d smile to yourself, knowing he was dreaming of you. 

Eres el amor de mi vida, he had promised when he was making love to you - when you were making love to each other. The moment he said those words it was like the tether between your souls solidified, forming an unbreakable bond that both fills you up and steals the air from your lungs. Since that moment, every breath you take is like the first - so new and pure. You see the world with brand new eyes and you know you’ll never be the same.

Javi stirs behind you and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest, sleepily planting a kiss just behind your ear. You think he might be waking up but then you hear his breathing even out again and you chuckle lightly at how exhausted he must be after your activities from the night before.

You wish you could stay like this forever, but your bladder seems to think otherwise. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, before you slowly slip out from under his heavy arm.

“¿A...dónde vas, hermosa?” he whispers when you stand up from the bed. You turn and find him watching you with sleepy half-lidded eyes. His lips are plump and slightly pursed and you can’t resist pressing a kiss to them. He instantly deepens the kiss as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, pulling a moan from you. 

He places his hands on your hips and starts pulling you back onto the bad. Reluctantly, you press a hand to his chest, whispering against his lips, “bathroom.” You chuckle when he pouts and lets his head fall back against the pillows, “hurry back,” he pleads and you almost roll your eyes at the childlike expression on his face.

You shake your head with a smile as you turn towards the bathroom. When you reach for the doorknob you hear him call your name, making you turn back towards him with questioning eyes. After a beat of silence, which he spends ogling your naked body, you fight a blush and breathe, “Yes, Javi?” and you place a hand on your hips as you face his heated gaze head-on.

His lust-filled eyes travel back up your body and finally land on your eyes, saying, “Nothing, I’m just - admiring,” while he licks his lips. Feeling bold, you wink at him and bite your lip, making sure to turn extra slow as you saunter into the bathroom and close the door with a click. 

You lock it out of habit and lean against the door as you place a hand on your stomach, trying to calm the butterflies that took flight just from that small interaction with Javier - he is just pure sex, you sigh as you push away from the door.

After you’ve done your business, you look at yourself in the mirror and your jaw drops when you see how disheveled your hair is, though your skin practically glows. You run your fingers through your hair, trying to untangle the numerous knots but with little luck, so you decide to just take a shower - especially after you realize how…sticky your skin feels. 

Without a second thought, you step into the shower and turn the water on. Normally the water takes only a matter of seconds to turn warm, thanks to the sweltering heat this time of year. But as soon as you feel the freezing temperature on your skin, your stomach drops and your heart hammers in your chest. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as goosebumps rise all over your skin. “No,” you croak out as you lean against the tile wall for support but find yourself sliding downward, knocking over a couple bottles of soap along the way. Your vision becomes blurry as the memories flash in your mind–

You’re then greeted with a bucket of ice water to the face as a voice exclaims “MIRA quién por fin se despertó,” the sound echoing off the walls and making your eardrums ache.

“¿Sabes qué, putana? I change my mind - why don’t you shut the fuck up so I can actually enjoy what I’m about to do to you.”  

“No! Stop–p-please,” you screw your eyes shut and cover your ears to block out the loud banging coming from somewhere in the room as another wave of memories crashes down on you.

“Good girl,” Serpiente says before he lowers the knife and plunges it into your stomach.

“Hey, stay awake. You’re gonna be OK, mi amor, I promise,” Javier’s eyes frantically search yours for any indication that you’re hearing him. “‘Mi - amor’?” you whisper.

The rope burns into your wrists and ankles as Javier’s lifeless body is consumed by a river of blood, just before the monster slices his blade across your throat.

“NO!” you scream when you feel warm hands wrap around each of your arms. You push back as hard as you can but your back hits the wall and there’s nowhere for you to go. 

“Hermosa, it’s me! It’s Javi,” the concern in his voice breaks through your brain’s assault. You open your eyes, trying to catch your breath but it’s like your lungs refuse to expand, making it impossible to breathe. You see spots in your vision and find his eyes through the steam of the now-hot shower. He’s somehow managed to squeeze into the small bathtub with you, his knees pushing against yours as he squats in front of you with the water from the shower raining down his naked back. He brings his hands to your face, saying, “Breathe - it’s okay. I’m here - you’re safe, mi amor.” 

Your teeth are chattering and your whole body shakes uncontrollably. It’s like you’re still in that chair, frozen to the bone though the water in the bath is almost boiling hot. “Th-the w-w-water,” you stammer and as soon as Javi understands what you’re saying he turns and shuts the water off with one aggressive turn of his wrist. “There - it’s off. OK? You’re safe,” he keeps repeating until the look of sheer terror on your face crumples with a shuddering sob.

Your head would’ve fallen forward against your knees if Javi wasn’t holding it in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the sides of your cheeks as you weep. He doesn’t try to shush you or stop you from shedding the tears that have been building up inside you ever since the day he found you. He just sits with you as he alternates between resting his forehead against yours and pressing gentle kisses to your skin, quietly reminding you, “Aquí estoy - you’re safe.” 

When your breathing finally calms down and you regain control over your limbs, you bring your hands to Javi’s wrists, causing him to lean back and stare at you with concerned eyes. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks quietly as he brushes hair away from your face.

You stare back at him for a second, then without warning, you crash your lips against his and wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer when he starts pulling back from you. You trace your tongue along the seam of his lips until he allows you entrance and when he does, you plunge into his mouth with a moan. He puts his hands on your hips, his fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts and you break away with a gasp, your chest heaving against his.

“Fuck it out of me, Javi,” you breathe against his lips as he watches you with confused eyes. You place your hands on his shoulders for balance as you tuck your legs under you so that you’re kneeling in front of him, the tops of your thighs brushing against his shins.

You reach for one of his hands and place his palm against your throbbing center. “Wait–” he starts to pull his hand away but you tighten your grip, pleading, “Help me forget - please,” you swallow the lump in your throat as you search his eyes for - for what? Understanding? How could he possibly understand what’s going on with you when you don’t even understand it yourself? Christ - you were just having a panic attack and now you’re asking him to fuck you? 

What the fuck is wrong with me? 

Your shoulders drop in defeat as you look away from him, your bottom lip quivering from trying to contain another wave of tears rushing to the surface. Maybe I should just...leave. You look towards the door and notice that the doorknob is hanging from where it used to be embedded in the wooden door, and chipped pieces of wood litter the tile.

Jesus, he broke the fucking door. You look back at Javi who watches you with a worrisome expression. He holds one of your hands in his and when a stray tear falls down your cheek, he squeezes your hand. He swallows hard and shifts his body so that he’s on his knees, the two of you mirroring each other. 

“Please,” your voice is barely audible and you wonder if he even heard you when all he does is stare back at you - his expression unreadable. 

But then he’s reaching for you, his strong arms wrapping around you as he kisses a spark of life back into you. You almost sob from relief, and another emotion you don’t quite comprehend. He lifts your hips and helps you to your feet, but he remains kneeling in front of you. Your breathing speeds up when he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and makes a trail of kisses up your inner thigh until you’re practically hyperventilating from anticipation. Then he looks up at you through those beautiful lashes of his and whispers, “I love you,” before he buries his face in your pussy, flattening his tongue as he licks from your wet folds to your sensitive clit.

You moan his name as you thread your fingers through his hair, and your legs nearly give out when he starts circling his tongue over your clit in an intoxicating rhythm. You feel one of his hands slide up your stomach until he reaches your breast and expertly rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Your head falls back against the tile with a desperate cry when he slowly inserts one finger into your aching cunt as he simultaneously sucks your clit into his hot mouth. He’s only pumped into you four times when you start to feel that jolting tightness deep in your belly. 

“Oh, god - Javi,” you breathe when he adds a second finger and moans, the vibration nearly making your knees buckle beneath you. He must sense your impending demise because he lowers his hand from your breast to your hip, holding you steady. He curls his thick fingers inside of you and sucks hard on your clit, sending you plummeting over the edge of an orgasm so intense your knees actually give out. But Javi reacts quickly and he’s standing up to catch you with one arm while his other hand remains between your thighs, his thumb vigorously massaging your clit to draw out your orgasm.

Your whole body feels like jell-o as you place your hands on his shoulders for balance, pressing your lips to his and dipping your tongue in his mouth to taste yourself. He brings a hand to your ass and squeezes, pulling a gasp from your lips, “Fuck - you taste even sweeter than I remember,” he breathes into your neck before sucking on your skin with a pressure that will surely leave a gorgeous bruise.

You reach between your bodies and find his cock stiff as a rod, dripping into your hand as you slowly start to pump his length, “I want you inside me, Javi,” you murmur into his shoulder before biting into his flesh, pulling a surprised hiss from him. He pulls back and captures your lips in a bruising kiss.

When you pull apart he takes a step out of the tub, presumably to lead you to the bed, but you tug him back, saying, “No, here. I want - I need–” the words get stuck in your throat as you try to think of a way to express what you’re feeling.

I need to replace a bad memory with a good one. It sounds simple in your head, but for some reason, the idea of actually voicing it out loud is utterly terrifying - because it makes it real. It gives life to all of this. Your fear and your pain - all of it becomes real the moment you acknowledge it to the rest of the world. But you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet.

As if he can read your mind, Javier steps back into the tub and cradles your face in his hands, promising, “Anything you want, mi amor - I’m here.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, but you instantly deepen the connection, needing to be so overwhelmed by his touch and his love that you forget about everything else in existence. 

Breaking apart from him - and before you can change your mind - you reach behind him and turn the water on, your body instantly tensing when the cool liquid hits your skin. You close your eyes and try to focus on the warmth of Javi’s body flush against yours as he slides a hand down your ass to lift your thigh and hook your leg around his hip. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips back to yours with a newfound purpose. 

This is real - Javi is real - I’m safe in his arms, you think as Javi reaches between you and teases the head of his cock along your entrance. And when he taps it against your clit, you moan loudly from the current of electricity it sends throughout your whole body, your cries echoing off the walls of the intimate space. He rests his forehead against yours as he looks into your eyes and thrusts his entire length into your throbbing cunt.

“JAVI,” you cry out from the intense pleasure of being completely filled by him. You dig your nails into his shoulder blades with a grip that’s sure to draw blood if you press any deeper. He slowly pulls out of you only to slam his hips back into yours, swearing, “I’ve got you, hermosa - never letting you go,” he breathes into the crook of your neck as he starts to move with more rhythm. 

You feel wetness on your cheeks - either from your own tears or from the water cascading down Javi’s back and splashing onto you, you don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter because all you feel - all you are - is Javi’s body connecting with yours over and over again as he brings you both closer to that state of absolute euphoria.  

He fucks into you with fervor, hitting a particularly exquisite spot deep in your core, and you whimper against his shoulder when you feel the pad of his thumb press down on your clit. “Fuck, Javi - s-so good,” you praise as you thread your fingers in his damp hair and bring his lips back to yours.

You’re teetering on the brim of another earth-shattering orgasm, every snap of his hips inching you closer and closer to the edge. Then all of a sudden he’s lifting your other thigh and wrapping your leg around his waist, pinning your body against the cold tile as he drives his cock home with more urgency.

You dig your heels into his ass to push him deeper as your walls begin to clench around him. He drags his teeth along your throat as he groans, “Love the way you grip my cock - ’s fucking incredible,” he breathes into your skin and when he bites down on the region where your neck meets your shoulder, you lose all sense of reality as your orgasm takes over.

Javi follows you right over that blissful peak as his hips stutter against yours, his warmth filling you in the most primal way. He pumps into you a few more times as he comes down from his high and you bring a hand to his cheek, captivated by the lines of his face as his expression softens when he meets your eyes. You run your thumb along his bottom lip, swollen from your own lips’ passionate embrace. The warm water streaming down his face continues down your hand and onto your breast, leaving goosebumps on your skin. 

Your legs slide down his body, your feet silently landing on the tile while he slowly pulls out of you. He winces from the overstimulation as you release a quiet moan. You rest your head on his shoulder, both of you still breathing hard and too exhausted to speak. You look down and watch as the water from the shower streams down his softened cock and washes away his release mixed with yours. 

You feel his fingers under your chin, gently lifting your head so that you’re forced to look him in the eyes. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are glassy as they search yours, “You OK?” he asks quietly, his words nearly drowned out by the water raining down on you. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, nodding your head as his thumb strokes your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in close. You weave your arms under his and bring your hands to his shoulders, leaning your forehead against his as you whisper, “Thank you.”

You barely notice when the water goes cold some time later - the comfort of Javi’s embrace providing all the warmth you could ever need. 

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

One month later

“Are you nervous about Monday?” Connie asks you as you stand in front of your closet, trying to pick an outfit for your first day back to work.

“Not really - I’m on light duty, which basically means my ass is gonna be glued to my desk chair for the next three weeks,” you sigh as you rest your hands on hips and gnaw on your lower lip. 

Truthfully, you can’t wait to get back to work, even if it’s just to sift through some boring-ass paperwork until your eyes bleed. Over the past few weeks, you’ve done nothing besides eat, sleep, read and then reread the few novels you had brought over with you from the states, and of course spend time with Javi, which obviously was your favorite pastime.

After the time you spent together in the shower that day - an activity the two of you have since enjoyed on a frequent basis - you and Javi have become closer than you ever thought was possible. You’d stay in his apartment while he went to work and he’d call you at least three times a day just to check in.

“Yes, Javi, I already ate breakfast,“ you shake your head against the phone receiver as you put the last of the dishes you just used into the sink.

“What about your meds? The doctor said you need to take them–”

“For two weeks to avoid infection, I know,” you chuckle at his probing questions, but your heart swells at the concern in his voice - no man has ever cared for your wellbeing the way Javi does and you’re still getting used to the feeling. “I’m good, Javi, I promise,” he’s silent for a minute before he responds, “I know, I–,” you hear him release a nervous breath before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper, “I just want to make sure you’re OK.”

You swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat, wishing he were here so you could comfort him and prove to him just how OK you really are. “Thank you, Javi - truly. But I don’t want you to worry about me, OK? I’ll be right here when you get home.” He hums in approval, and the baritone of his voice reverberates over the line when he says, “I like the sound of that - coming home to you.”

Your breath hitches and your heart hammers against your ribcage as you take in his words - home? Sure, you were the one who just brought it up, but coming from his mouth it sounds so - tangible. Yes, you do feel at home whenever you’re with him, even if the two of you haven’t exactly discussed any plans for the future - especially given the whole Columbian drug war situation. 

But when this was all over - then what? You love him and you know he loves you, but your life back in the states - back home - is completely different from this way of life. Over there it’s less demanding and, sure, not having to worry about getting kidnapped by some narcos assholes (again) is obviously a plus - but - will the love you share for one another still burn just as bright as it does here?

“Hermosa?” you hear him ask and you have to shake your head to focus, “Yeah, sorry - I’m here.”

Javi sounds uncertain when he says, “Maybe I should head home a few hours early” - and there was that word again. God, pull it together - it’s just a word. “No, no, I’m fine - besides, I told Connie I’d help her with something later tonight so there’s no reason for you to come - home - early,” the words tumble out of your mouth in one breath and you hope he doesn’t call your bluff about helping Connie tonight.

You hear someone call his name in the background and breathe a sigh of relief for the distraction, “OK, I gotta go - I’ll just - see you later then, “ he sounds annoyed, but not at you - most likely at the person who interrupted your phone call because he quickly continues with a soft, “Te quiero,” and you instantly feel at ease.

You smile and respond in a voice just as quiet, “I love you, too,” before ending the call. 

“Ooh, I like that one,” Connie raves when you pull out a plum-colored button-up top to match your black pants. It’s one of your favorites actually, but then you realize how low-cut it is - low enough to show the jagged scar running down your clavicle - and suddenly the thought of wearing it out in public makes you slightly queasy. 

“I think I’ll just go with that gray one,” you mumble and Connie’s expression turns to one of confusion until she realizes what the problem with the other top is, responding with a simple, “Oh, okay,” and a small smile but you see a sympathetic glint in her eyes. 

It’s not that the scars themselves bother you - you’re actually starting to accept them as a part of you now, thanks to Javier’s constant reassurance as well the therapy sessions the DEA made you attend in order to be able to go back to work. No, you’re not ashamed of them, but you really don’t feel like facing the stares or, god forbid, any questions from your colleagues - at least not yet. So for now, you stick with the safer option.

There’s a knock on your apartment door and Connie stands up from where she was seated at the foot of your bed, saying, “That’s probably Steve with the food,” as she goes to open the door. Sandra, one of the secretaries at the embassy, had called you earlier that day to tell you she was going to send you some of her famous enchiladas - which were to die for - as a celebratory feast to welcome you back to work. You nearly cried from gratitude as you thanked her for her kind gesture - and also probably because you were super excited to devour those enchiladas - they were that good. 

You drape your top over the sofa that sits in the corner of your bedroom and follow Connie out to the living room. As soon as she opens the door to greet her husband - who’s holding a covered tray in his hands - you’re met with the scent of chile and spices that… 

Make your stomach turn violently. 

You quickly rush off to the bathroom, your hand covering your nose and mouth to block out the scent that caused such a repulsive response. You barely make it to the toilet before bile rises in your throat and your stomach heaves, sending you face first into the toilet bowl. Hardly anything comes out, seeing as you hadn’t really eaten all day because you were looking forward to having the enchiladas - the thought of which has you leaning over the toilet once more.

You feel a small hand on your lower back and another holding your hair out of your face as Connie reassures you in her motherly tone, “It’s OK, you’re OK - breathe,” and you start to relax as she rubs soothing circles on your back. You cough and spit into the toilet a couple of times before you slump back against the wall, letting Connie flush the toilet for you.

You’re about to get up and grab a glass of water - and a toothbrush with a whole tube of toothpaste - when Steve steps into the doorway of the bathroom, holding a glass of water out for you to take. He looks a bit sickly himself as you quietly thank him and gulp down the entire thing. Then Connie turns to him from where she’s seated on the edge of the bathtub next to you, and says, “Could you give us a minut–”

“Yup,” he answers immediately as he’s already walking away towards the living room. The guy has seen dead bodies - the aftermath of massacres, even - but he can’t handle the sight of a little vomit, you laugh internally, your stomach still too sensitive to handle even the slightest movement. You look up at Connie who’s been silently staring you down with a suspicious look in her eye. You furrow your brow at her and ask weakly, “What?”

She’s quiet for a few more seconds before asking, “How long have you been feeling like this?” her expression is unreadable as you think of the answer to her question. “Uh, a couple of weeks I guess - I’m pretty sure it’s a side effect of the antibiotics - the doctor had me taking,” you say slowly as you take deep breaths when another wave of nausea hits you.

“But that was weeks ago, hun. You shouldn’t still be experiencing those side effects. When was–” she clamps her lips shut as if she’s second-guessing whether she should ask the next question. You raise your eyebrows expectantly as you think, spit it out, already.  

“When was your last period?” her words come out rushed and it takes you a second to decipher what she’s said. You look up towards the ceiling while you think, “Like…the week before I was - before they–” you swallow hard as bile starts to rise in your throat again, but then it’s like your brain finally catches up to the conversation and you slowly start to comprehend what Connie’s implying.

Wait, no - oh, shit.

“No,” your head snaps up.

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“It can’t - I can’t be–” you trail off, too distressed to even think about finishing that thought.

“Well,” she winces as her shoulders shrug upwards, “if that was your last period - which was like over six weeks ago - then, I’m just saying, it is a possibility.” Your jaw nearly hits the floor from shock, but your brain refuses to accept the very probable truth.

“But I take birth control - for years, I’ve taken it and it’s never failed,” your heart hammers in your chest and the ringing in your ears makes you feel light-headed. 

“What about when you were in the hospital? I’m pretty sure you didn’t take it while you were in a coma,” Connie suggests as she offers you a hand when you start to stand on your feet. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks and you instantly regret leaving the safety of the floor because the room starts to shift a little. 

Oh, god - how’s Javi gonna react if we’re - if I’m - I’m–

“We can go to the hospital right now and have them do a blood test to be sure,” Connie holds you steady as she gently squeezes your arms with unwavering support, “I’m here for you, OK?”

–pregnant.

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

Translations:

Aquí estoy - I’m (right) here

Te quiero - I love you

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

Aaaah shit, what’d you guys think?? I super enjoyed writing this, especially that last part 😉 any feedback is always welcome!

p.s., there’s only one chapter left! 😱😭 but I’m thinking about writing an alternate ending in addition to the last chapter - I’ll keep you posted 😁

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed)

@captainclod​ @stevieharrrr​ @zeldasayer​ @cptnbvcks​ @spacegayofficial​ @themandjalorian​ @hiscyarika​ @mandoispunk​ @madadlorian​ @pedrolorians​ @forever-rogue​ @longitud-de-onda​ @certifiedskywalker​ @dindjarindiaries​ @no-droids-allowed​ @aerynwrites​ @buckyodinson​ @lannister-slings-and-arrows​ @gooddaykate​ @fanfiction-trashpile​ @arrowswithwifi​ @letaliabane​ @thinemineours​ @ham4arrow​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @thisainttheway​ @bluemoon-glen​ @katialvi​ @theforceofdarkandlight​ @24kgolden​ @livasaurasrex​ @c-ly-g​ @womp-ratt​ @fangirl-and-stuff​ @mrsparknuts​ @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @kimljn​ @fatbottomedcurls​ @auty-ren​ @mabelleen​ @rzrcrst​ @pascalisthepunkest​ @blushingwueen​ 

[no6secretsanta]

Warm bodied

Here’s my fic for signpainter1 !! I hope you’ll enjoy it, I liked writing it ! :D

- @akuthecactus

                                                                                                                              “Let’s take a hot bath !”

Nezumi rose his eyes from the book he was reading, snuggled in an armchair, right beside the fireplace. It was freezing cold outside and both him and Shion could hear the West block wind hissing under the door and making their noses and fingers cold. Even the fire struggled to keep them warm and they were both wrapped in blankets. The white-haired boy looked at his roommate with big sparkling eyes as he often had when he had, usually not so, great ideas.

“What do you mean ?” Nezumi asked, wondering how Shion could think a bath was a luxury they could afford when their last dinner had been a clear soup.

“Well, we should take a warm bath ! I can take water from the river and fill one of Inukashi’s metal tubs, you know, the ones I wash the dogs in ? And then we can heat it on the fire and have a warm bath !” Shion explained excitedly as he got up from his seat, ready to put his plan into action.

Nezumi really thought it sounded childish and futile of Shion to offer carrying gallons of freezing water only to take a bath, but he had to admit the idea of immersing himself in hot water was appealing. He didn’t even remember when it last happened.

“Mh. Well, if you want to have fun carrying it and taking care of the fire while it heats, why not, I guess it can’t hurt. Try not to freeze your fingers while carrying it.” He said with a sigh and looked back at his book.

Shion grinned excitedly and put his warm clothes on. “I’ll be back soon !”

                                                                                                                              About an hour later, the heavy basement door opened and Shion pulled a metal tub in. He was panting and his nose and cheeks had taken a bright pink color. “Pfew, I made it ! Inukashi let me borrow the tub until tomorrow so we don’t need to worry about giving it back tonight.” The young man explained as he lifted the tub over fire, placing it carefully and standing back with a grin. Nezumi watched the scene unfold, genuinely surprised Shion had made it this far. I really should stop underestimating that boy, he thought. “Be careful not to heat it too much, I don’t want to boil in there.” He remarked, to what Shion nodded. “Don’t worry it will be perfect.” He assured.

As promised, Shion took good care of the fire, frequently plunging his hand in the water to stir it and evaluate the heat. In the meanwhile, Nezumi made some room for the tub. Not that he was as excited as his roommate, but he didn’t want any water on his books. The water took a while to heat properly but Shion eventually stood up and carried the steaming tub in the middle of the space Nezumi had struggled to make in all their mess. “Let’s get in before the water gets cold !” The white haired boy said as he pulled his clothes off without much embarrassment, revealing the red snake coiled around his body. He then carefully sat in the water in order to not spill any and folded his legs to make some room. It was large enough for a big dog, but small for an adult human. Fortunately, neither of the boys were tall. “It’s so warm, come in !” Shion said with a satisfied grin.

Nezumi hesitated. Of course, that bath was tempting, of course letting his cold body relax and let go of everything that made him nervous was enticing. His cold hands were already heated by the steam and his whole body longed for a good bath. But this also meant being unbelievably vulnerable, very close to Shion. He couldn’t explain why, but he was scared of doing it. He knew he could easily kill that boy with his bare hands, he was just so fragile and naïve. But Shion also had already managed to reach for Nezumi’s neck with such ease. It was worrisome.

His eyes met Shion’s. What a beautiful color, Nezumi thought each time he saw them. “I can turn around if you don’t want me to watch you.” Shion offered, his eyes still looking right in the silver ones.

Nezumi stayed quiet for a bit then looked down at the water, conflicted feelings fighting within him. Reason told him there was nothing to worry about and that it would be stupid to skip on this occasion. But his instinct told him not to go, that this boy was too weird, to unpredictable, too dangerous. Yet, another feeling, much harder to put a name on, pulled him towards Shion, towards the occasion on spending more time with him and seeing his smile. He rose his eyes from the water to meet Shion again. The latter smiled and closed his eyes. “I won’t open them until you get in. I promise.”

Nezumi stayed still for a bit more until slowly taking his clothes off. As promised, Shion didn’t open his eyes and simply leaned his head back. The black-haired boy considered it again, but the wind wrapped its claws around his naked body and he quickly put a foot in the water, then the second before lowering himself in. He leaned his back against the wall of the tub, fully hiding his scar.

The warmth quickly spread in the young man’s bones. He knew that feeling, he was sure he had already felt it before. But when ? Could such a futile feeling have stuck in the few pieces that were left from his childhood ? But it wasn’t futile. Being warm meant being alive.

“I’m in. You can open your eyes it’s fine.” He said.

Shion opened his eyes and grinned. “Isn’t it nice ?” He leaned back against the side of the tub, sighing with a satisfied look on his face. Cravat climbed up a pile of books and jumped on Shion’s hand, watching the water with curiosity. “It’s been a while since I last took a bath, it’s such a good feeling…” He went on, not waiting for Nezumi’s answer. Both of them had their legs tightly folded but their feet still touched although it didn’t really bother them.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Nezumi kept his eyes open, watching Shion pet the mouse. Eventually, the white-haired boy started talking. “I’m sorry.” He simply said. Nezumi furrowed his brows.

“What are you sorry for ?”

“I know we already talked about it, but… sorry for sometimes being a burden to you. I’m trying to learn and be better, but sometimes it’s not enough. You saved my life more times than I can count and even if you said I saved your life, I only did it once. I’m costing you money, time and I’m dragging you into something impossible. I-“

“Stop.”

“I know, I know.” Shion looked down like a kid who had been scolded.

“I’m not saying this to make you shut up. Look at me.” Nezumi said firmly. Shion looked back up, locking his purple eyes in the silver ones. “Thank you for the bath. It was a good idea.” He said with a soft smile.

Shion smiled as well, Nezumi’s thanks were rare and genuine, which made them even more valuable. But it wasn’t enough to make him stop thinking, a bath couldn’t be enough to pay back what he owed Nezumi. He broke eye-contact to take the soap. “Let’s wash ourselves before the water gets cold.” He said while rubbing the soap in his hands, but was interrupted by thin fingers placed on his hands. Their eyes met again.

“Let me do it.” Nezumi looked serious. Shion’s confusion showed on his face.

“Let you do what ?”

“Let me wash your hair.” He said, still no hint of a smile. Shion couldn’t tell if Nezumi was making fun of him or if he was actually offering something. “Relax and let me do it.” He added.

Shion didn’t quite know what to answer so he simply closed his eyes. He felt Nezumi’s thin fingers slip through the almost transparent hair, gently pushing them away from the boy’s face. He then scooped some water with a bowl they usually used for soup and Nezumi slowly poured it on Shion’s head, protecting his face with his hand.

Even though he knew no water would get on his face, Shion kept his eyes closed. He would feel too nervous if he saw Nezumi’s face so close to his own, and it also helped him relax. The downside being he thought even more about what was happening. Why did Nezumi want to wash his hair all of a sudden ? Was it a West block cultural thing he didn’t know about ? Or was it really just because Nezumi wanted him to relax ? He always struggled to understand his friend so much it hurt. Each time he made a step towards him, it felt like he also took a step back. But this time, a big step had been made by Nezumi.

Once Shion’s hair was fully wet, Nezumi applied the soap, putting a light pressure on Shion’s scalp as he massaged it. Instantly, the white haired boy felt his whole body relax and a soft sigh escape his lips. Was he always so sensitive or was it simply because it was Nezumi doing it ? His fingers were so gentle and precise, slipping streaks of hair between them and covering each hair with soap. It felt like a lover’s kiss.

Shion couldn’t think about what this all meant. He couldn’t think about anything anymore. Nezumi seemed to have switched off his constant train of thought with the tip of his fingers. Now the only thing the boy could concentrate on was the sensation on his head and the warmth of the bath warming his bones.

The silence was only enhanced by the water dripping and the mice squeaking, but it was a comfortable, warm silence. They didn’t need words. In fact, Nezumi’s hands spoke louder. When Nezumi tucked Shion’s hair behind his hear, when he slipped his fingers up, caressed the scalp, carefully separating it in two sides, when his thumbs massaged Shion’s temples, it all said I love you in different ways.

Neither of them had really said it out loud. Of course, there was something between them. But the time wasn’t right. Maybe later. If they both survived in the correctional facility, maybe Shion would tell him.

Eventually, Nezumi rinsed Shion’s hair and got up of the tub. Shion’s eyes opened just a bit later as his friend was rubbing himself with a towel.

“Now there’s another thing I owe you…” He muttered.

“No there isn’t. There isn’t anything you owe me. This was a gift, learn to appreciate it.”

Shion smiled lightly and got out as well, rubbing himself vigorously with the towel before quickly putting his clothes back on. He was glad he had this idea. Next time it will be cold, he would definitely do it again.

[dhwty-writes]

Zutara Week Day 4 - Celestial

Great, I fell behind... I’m sorry for the late contribution, but at least that means two stories today. Again, I advice you to check out the previous parts before reading, otherwise this won’t make a lot of sense. Have fun!

Read on AO3

"This has gotten out of hand," the Avatar chided and all Katara could do was try to stand tall and proud. "Katara, what in the names of all spirits?"

"I was just here to help," she defended herself. "Not once did I initiate the violence."

Aang sighed and leapt off Appa's saddle. "Where's the governor?"

"Technically that would be me." She hoped that she hadn't jumped too much upon hearing Zuko's voice next to her, his hand softly on her back to steady her. "But if you mean the man responsible for all of this, you better hurry to save him from Toph. She's having a field day."

"I will," Aang announced and brushed past them to get to Yozin.

"That was odd." Katara looked up to see Zuko frowning.

"What was odd?"

"Oh, I-" He glanced down and Katara could have sworn to see him blush. "Don't take me wrong, I just thought there would be a warmer reunion between you two." He looked away. "Not that it's any of my business."

She frowned. What on earth did he- oh. "Aang and I aren't a thing anymore," she stated matter-of-factly. "I haven't really seen him since."

He winced and took a hurried step back. "Oh. Um. Sorry. I didn't know."

She smiled and pat his cheek affectionately. "Go listen to the palace gossip a bit more. It's been public knowledge for a year now." She yawned and her shoulders slumped. "I guess I really should get some sleep."

"You can stay here!" he blurted.

Katara quirked an eyebrow.

The blush on his cheeks rose higher. "I mean, since the hospital got destroyed and all. I'm sure there's a room to be found where you can rest."

She smiled. "Thanks, Zuko. I'd appreciate that."

He smiled too and wandered off in search of one of his guards to show her to a room. Shortly after she collapsed on a rough futon and slept.

Katara slept for hours and when she woke, she found a plate of rice and a teapot beside her bed as well as a bowl of water. After the meagre meal and a quick waterbending bath she decided that she should better go and look at the havoc they had wreaked in the previous night, check on her rebels, treat the injured-

She was wandering through the abandoned corridors of the ship when she heard the yelling. 'Oh no,' she thought, sprinting in the direction of the noise. She wasn't feeling nearly well-rested enough to go through another battle and she doubted that Zuko was either.

She burst through the door onto the deck and dashed to the railing. But instead of attacking firebenders she only saw a pavilion where the old Team Avatar had sought shelter from the sweltering humid heat and Zuko and Aang seemed to be engaged in a ferocious argument. And while Sokka and Suki at least tried to calm them down, Toph stood idly by, apparently observing the clouds passing by.

Katara sighed. She wasn't sure if she hadn't preferred firebenders.

Calmly she walked over to them. "Hi everyone," she greeted them with a smile. "What did I miss?"

Aang scowled and crossed his arms, looking more like the twelve-year-old she had once broken out of an iceberg than a twenty-two-year-old avatar. Zuko huffed angrily and also looked to the side. He looked terrible, she noted and privately asked herself if he had slept at all. But that was a concern for another time.

"Sokka?" she prompted.

Her brother just shrugged and crossed the arms.

Before Katara could huff in frustration Toph answered: "Sparky and Twinkletoes are having an argument about whose responsibility this whole thing is. It's stupid."

"It's childish," Suki added.

"It's beside the point," Katara decided.

"Oh, sure, take his side," Aang muttered and it felt like the temperature dropped a few degrees.

Katara had to close her eyes and take a deep breath before continuing. "I am not taking any sides, Aang, I didn't even know what sides there were. But I've been here for three months, I think I know more about this conflict than most people."

"She's got a point," Sokka muttered.

Aang scrunched his nose. "Alright. So, let's hear the story."

She nodded and started telling the same story she had related to Zuko already. Well, mostly. It was a lot more matter-of-factly and less emotional. She didn't even know why she had felt the need to tell Zuko the other story. She didn't even know why she couldn't tell the others the true story. But when she was finished Aang and Zuko had both seemed to have sufficiently calmed down.

"And tonight?" Aang asked. "What happened?"

She frowned. "I'm not even sure. Ask those who have attacked us."

"Katara..." he pleaded.

She rolled her eyes and continued with her report: "It was just past midnight when I heard some unrest in the street. I sent two of the people staying at the hospital-"

"The rebels?"

She gritted her teeth. "The rebels. Anyways, I sent two of them to see what was going on. They returned half an hour later with burns all over their bodies. They had encountered about six guards in the streets, harassing the people in their houses. Ten more set out, I guess they got caught in fights somewhere along the line. I stayed back healing the injured and was just minding my own damn business and then they started attacking the hospital. I went out, stood my ground, Zuko showed up an hour or so later. I guess you all know the rest of the story."

Aang said: "Governor Yozin-"

"Yozin," Zuko interrupted him, "he's no governor anymore."

"Yozin," Aang admitted, "said that some of your rebels were causing unrest. Ignoring the curfew. Attacking the guards."

She quirked an eyebrow. "And you believe that."

"I am obligated to listen to all sides of the conflict."

"Aang, I can't believe you're this gullible! You know the drill; they will say anything they can to make us look like the bad guys."

"I know, Katara, and I also know that that's a two-way street."

"Even if that was true," Zuko chimed in, "Yozin had no right to command the guards. I had stripped him of his offices already. Besides that, he tried to declare he was ready to kill me this morning. He committed high treason."

"You asked me to come here, Zuko. So, I am here, let me do this my way."

"I asked you to come here when I thought this was a petty squabble. Things have changed. This is a Fire Lord problem now, not an Avatar problem."

He snorted. "No, I think this is exactly an Avatar problem! This has gotten out of hand."

"I know, Aang! But there's nothing you can do here. There's no conflict you can resolve because the only possible resolve is removing the cause. There's no gap you can bridge because that gap is far too wide. There's nothing the Avatar can do because what's needed here are politics. And that is a Fire Lord problem."

"Maybe we should try talking to Yozin-"

"Aang, I really don't want to overstep," Sokka said with a sigh, "but I think we're way past that point."

"Well, then why didn't you call me weeks ago, why didn't you-"

"I tried," Zuko said the same time Katara answered: "You know why."

All the eyes shifted to her and Katara looked away. "I'm sorry. I should probably go and see to the wounded." Before anyone could say anything, she bolted.

She found Ni in the town square that bore the evidence of her rampage last night and nearly winced. All that she had built up in the last weeks and months was destroyed and then she wasn't even there to clean up the mess.

Instead Ni had stepped in, relentlessly ordering the poor townspeople around that looked just as exhausted as Katara felt.

"I don't know why you even needed my help," she said in a poor attempt at a joke.

"Katara!" Ni exclaimed and her face lit up as she ran over to hug her. "I was so worried."

"Don't be," she tried to calm her down. "I don't go down that easily."

She smiled. "I didn't expect you to."

Katara tried to smile, too, but it came out as a grimace more likely than not. "How can I help? Any wounded?"

The woman gave her a critical once over. "I think you'd help best if you got some rest. You won't be much help if you're about to keel over."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Everything's fine now. The Avatar's here after all. And I'd like to take my mind off things."

Her face hardened as she took the hint. "Right. And I guess that went just swimmingly." Katara looked away in an answer. Ni sighed. "Didn't think so. The injured are just two streets in that direction, the only house left standing. Your little earthbender friend didn't take kindly to firebenders hiding in the others."

She nodded and went on her way.

"But don't think I won't be keeping a close eye on you!" Ni called after her, finally drawing a tentative smile from her.

Healing was just what Katara needed now. It was tiring and trying with the hot sunrays boiling her flowing power until nothing was left but fickle steam. Oh, how she hated the days in the Fire Nation where she could barely feel the pull of the moon. But that way she had no other choice than to focus completely on the task before her. That way at least she didn't have to think of Aang and the unpleasant break-up a little over a year ago.

Ni came around when the gruelling heat of the sun just started to let up and brought food and tea Katara took thanking and ate quickly. Some of her rebels had nasty burns that not even Yugoda could heal. Still, she was glad that she had returned to the healing hut and the old master after the war. As much as she loved fighting, loved the feeling of her blood simmering and boiling with the thrill of the battle, the icy fear when a hit was just a bit to close, the war wasn't in need for warriors now. It was, however, in desperate need of healers. And she would never turn her back on people who needed her.

She just turned around a corner to get some bandages for one of the guards to wrap up his frost bites and of course - of course - that was the moment when Aang showed up.

"You should rest," he said.

"You don't have to tell me what to do," she replied stubbornly.

Aang sighed. "Please, Katara. You fought an entire night, slept half a day and spent hours now healing people. You're overexerting yourself."

"I am more than capable than knowing my limits, thank you very much."

"Katara, please," there was an agonised look on his face. "I just want to talk. Please."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was alright. She could be an adult about it. She could handle this conversation. They were bound to have it at some time, after all. "Okay," she said.

"Okay?" he repeated.

"Let's talk." She fixed her with his gaze. "But not here."

"Anywhere's fine by me." He sounded relieved.

She jerked her head towards the door and they stepped outside, where the heat still made the air flicker.

"So," she asked.

It took a while before he answered. "Katara, that was really reckless."

She didn't have to ask what he meant. "I know, you don't have to tell me." He could be talking about anything - coming here, staying, stepping in, stepping up. She knew that he didn't approve.

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I was selfish, alright Aang? I was selfish and I wanted to prove that I could do something like this on my own. I have done it on my own in the past. I never meant for it to get out of hand."

"I know. I know that you couldn't have left for your life. And I'm sorry, too. For lashing out at Zuko and you, that wasn't right."

"Hm," she said.

"I'm also sorry for how things ended. I get it now. It's better if we're friends. The world needs us as friends. And I do, too. I'd like to be friends with you again, Katara."

She looked up at him smiling. "I'd like to be friends with you again, too, Aang." Then she pulled him into a tight hug.

When she let go, she felt like she had just shucked the weight of Appa off her shoulders. "So," she said and bumped into his side. "How's life?"

"Oh, you know. Calmed a spirit down in the Earth Kingdom. Opened an orphanage in the Southern Air Temple. Rode the unagi."

"Again, Aang? Why on earth would you do that?"

"I lasted almost five minutes this time! That's-"

"Two less than last time?" She shot him a grin and he pouted. Then they both laughed.

They started walking together, swapping stories watching the sun make its way across the sky until it set and it felt like they were really friends again.

"Right," Aang said as they reached the harbour. "I'll be staying with Appa. Good night, Katara."

"Good night, Aang," she answered and stood slightly lost on the quay.

"You're back late," Zuko's voice cut through the humid air of a Fire Nation night from where he stood at the railing of his ship. She hadn't even seen him standing there.

She crossed her arms and quirked and eyebrow. "Well, you're up late."

"Couldn't sleep," he answered as she drew closer. "Too much on my mind."

"Hm," she agreed quietly and stepped on the ship. "Have you slept at all?" she asked leaning on the railing beside him.

"A bit," he deflected her question. "How'd it go with Aang?"

"Alright, I guess. It seems like we're friends again."

"Is that- is that what you want?" he asked tentatively.

Katara sighed and looked up at the stars. "I don't know," she admitted. "I think it was good to get some distance. Maybe we needed that to get to know each other again. Sometimes that's just how it goes."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him avert his gaze. "I guess so," he murmured and she wasn't even sure if she was meant to hear it.

"That's not what I meant," she answered regardless, "that's not- That between us- these four years-" She scrunched her nose, not really sure where she was even getting at. "I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I regret it. And that I'm sorry."

"There's nothing you have to be sorry for," he said quietly and when she turned to look at him there was a hesitant smile dancing around his lips.

"I still am. We lost four years of our... relationship." She closed her eyes, just relishing in his presence. "And... I missed you. I really did." Then she leaned against his side, placing her head on his shoulder.

He hummed lowly. "I missed you, too," he whispered against her hair.

They stood silently like this for a while until Katara moved. "What now?" she asked.

"I brought something to drink," he answered. "If you want."

"Oh, keep talking," she joked.

He didn't. Keep talking, that was. Instead he turned and slid down the railing, laying his cloak out and patting the space beside him in invitation. Katara took the offered seat and the offered bottle and took a deep gulp.

"Did I ever tell you how much I hate your summers?" she asked and bent a trickle of sweat from her brow.

"You haven't." He quirked an eyebrow. "You're welcome to go back to your frozen wasteland any time you like."

She scrunched her nose. "Maybe I will. At least there the stars are right."

He hummed. "I remember. When I first started travelling, I was very confused. No-one had ever told me that the constellations changed."

She snorted in surprise. "You were in the navy."

"Not really but that's beside the point. I wasn't trained for the navy. The first year or so was a living hell while I tried to figure out how navigation worked."

That made her laugh and spit out half of the undoubtedly expensive alcohol they were drinking. "What I'd give to have seen that."

"As if you would've done any better," he grumbled.

"Excuse me? Of course I would have. We're sailors, for the spirits' sake. Our whole history is written in the stars."

"It is?"

She nodded.

"Tell me."

And so, she did. She told him of the polarbear-dog she had always seen at home that guarded the south and her cub that had wandered too far from its mother and got lost in the east. She took his hand to show him where it had left small footsteps in the sky. She told him of the boomerang that had shone brightly in the night sky when Sokka had been born and the penguin-seal and the whale and the sea-snake. She told him of the spirits dancing in the sky in the north and of Tui and La. Of balance and opposites and push and pull while they watched the moon travel across the sky - Yue, she told him, Sokka's first girlfriend who had sacrificed herself after the siege of the north.

"Wait-," he slurred, "he hadn't been joking? His first girlfriend really turned into the moon."

"Of course," she frowned. "How would you make something like that up?"

"You guys have been through some wild shit..."

She scoffed. "Tell me about it."

They were silent for a bit while Zuko drank again. "'S wrong, you know?"

"What is?"

"The moon's not with the sea. He's in love with the sun."

"No, that's not true," she protested. "I just told you. It's the moon and the sea, Tui and La-"

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "No, don't you see? 'S the moon and the sun. Round and round and round they go, always chasing each other but never touching."

Her face fell. "That's sad."

"Yeah," he looked up at her, "it is."

Katara shrugged and drained the bottle.

"What now?" she asked again.

"Go to sleep? Morning'll come soon."

Her heart felt suddenly very heave. "And when morning comes?"

He shrugged, too. "I'll go back home. I've been away longer than I meant to. And longer than is advisable." He shook the empty bottle. "What about you? Off to the next revolution?"

"I think I've had my fair share of revolutions for some time." Katara sighed. "Still, there's so much to be done here."

"I know," he agreed. "But the fighting has died down. They have food and water. The healers are arriving tomorrow morning. Governor Yozin is on his way to a nice prison and I have appointed an interim governor until I find someone up for the task. Our work here is done."

"But it is not enough!" she protested.

"No, of course not. But the rest will be decided in stuffy council chambers not in dirty town squares."

"I don't want to leave them."

"And I'm not going to. Neither do you have to."

She turned to look at him and furrowed her brow. "What are you saying?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Come back to Caldera with me? Finish what you started?"

She hesitated. She probably shouldn't. She hadn't been home in quite some times and she didn't particularly care for the Fire Nation. Sokka would be taking off come sunrise headed to the South Pole. She could maybe get back to teaching for some time. Build a few houses. That would be fine. But she didn't want to.

Because even though she didn't particularly for the Fire Nation, she happened to care for the Fire Lord. Quite a lot, actually. Probably more than was good for either of them. And so, before she even knew what she was saying, she answered: "When do we leave?"

[daedae127]

Help me; Bang Chan

a/n:

alright, this is actually the first time I've written an x-reader, and I wrote it in one sitting at 2 am lol. Just a reminder, this isn't edited because I'm a lazy person. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, anon.

Warnings: mentions of blood, a little bit of a steamy scene (it lasts for like two seconds), and swearing.

Bang Chan x Gender-neutral reader

You sighed, stepping into your apartment and taking off your boots. The mask was next, and you rubbed at your eyes. It really was exhausting being a super villain, you thought. Your muscles ached, and all you wanted to do was soak in a steaming bath and sleep. You were about to do just that, when your stomach growled loudly. You groaned.

I should’ve had something other than a breakfast bar this morning.

You headed to the kitchen, deciding to make something simple, like ramen, so you could just sleep. You filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, turning the burner to high. While the water was heating up, you started to unzip the skintight suit all super heros and villains wore for some reason. They were honestly such a pain, and you’d rather go around causing havoc in drawstring pants and t-shirts, but hey. You didn’t make the rules.

A loud crack startled you, causing you to drop the package of ramen you were holding. You cursed. The weather had been extra shitty that day, and just when you thought it was starting to clear up, it got worse. Great. The kettle started to whistle loudly, and you quickly turned the burner off and poured the boiling water into the ramen. It would take awhile to cool, so you headed to the bedroom to get more comfortable clothes on.

You finished stripping out of your suit, hanging it in the very back of the closet. Just as you were pulling on a pair of sweatpants there was a loud crash from outside. It sounded like it was on the balcolny. You sighed heavily, and peeked out of the window to see what it was.

Oh shit.

There was a tall figure slumped against the door, and they were obviously hurt. Blood was dripping down their face, and fuck. It was Chan. Your supposed arch nemesis, who you definitely didn't have a crush on. You just thought it was fun to tease him. It so wasn't fair that he still looked hot, even when covered in blood-

Shit. He was covered in blood. How the hell did that happen?

You quickly opened the screen door, because even if he was technically your enemy, you didn't want him dead. Chan moaned softly, and you barely caught him when he went down, promptly passing out.

"Seriously? You show up and ruin my carpet, and then faint and leave me to drag you inside?" You shook your head, trying to convince yourself that you weren't worried, it would just be boring if something were to happen to Chan.

•••

Oh, who were you kidding, you were worried sick. It had been about three hours since Chan fainted, and he was still out cold. You had given him a towel bath, getting as much blood off of him as you could. You'd also had to give him stitches in a few places on his torso.

You also left his mask on, because while you wanted to know his identity, you didn't believe is playing this dirty.

Now he was tucked in your bed, warming up and wearing one of your old shirts. Why did the guy have to be that toned, jeez. It wasn't fair, you decided, especially when you were trying your best to ignore the feelings blooming in your heart.

You sat down beside Chan, studying him while he slept. You wished circumstances were different. Maybe if he were a villain, or, God forbid, you were a hero, it could work out.

You sighed, reaching for your mask incase he actually did wake up. You tied it nice and tight, and while you were definitely going to have marks on your face for days, you'd rather him not know who you were.

You looked over to him, wondering if you should tie him up, but quickly decided against the idea. It would only injure him further, and that was the last thing you wanted.

"Do I sleep, or do I stay up and watch you. I do have to make sure you don't like, kill me or anything..." You stopped. "Jeez, why am I even talking to you. You can't even hear me."

You flopped down, pulling up a blanket over your chin. "I'm going to trust you. Probably not smart, but I'm exhausted. I have a regular job, you know, and it was a shitty day, so please go easy on me."

And with that, you fell asleep, not noticing Chan's eyes watching as you did so.

•••

When you woke, it took you a few minutes to realize what position you were in. When you finally did, you cursed as loudly as possible. "What the actual fuck Chan, I saved your damn ass and this is how you repay me? By tying me up on my own bed?" There was no response.

You groaned, testing out how strong the ropes around your wrists were, before noticing that your mask was still intact. Well, you supposed, at least he had enough decency to keep this on.

It was slightly surprising, but you chose not to linger on the subject for too long.

It was then you noticed Chan leaning heavily against the doorframe, looking wary. "Well, well, well," you drawled, "I see that you're very appreciative of my help. You would be dead if I hadn't seen you on my balcony."

Chan rolled his eyes under his mask. "You were the closest person I could think of. That doesn't mean I trust you though."

You shivered, closing your eyes. Why did he have to be so... so perfect, and hot, and-

And let's not forget that fact that he tied you up. "You know Chan, I would have gladly agreed to be tied up for you, all you had to do was ask,"

Chan shook his head, sighing. "Be quiet, please. My head is pounding."

You groaned. "Release me. I took you in, didn't I? I'm not going to try anything funny, I promise. Please Chan, the ropes are way too tight, and even though I like to tease I won't try anything. I'm losing feeling in my hands."

It wasn't a lie, your hands were getting a bit numb. On a normal day you'd continue to tease and mock him, but you were just too tired. Chan seemed to sense that, and he slowly nodded. "...fine. But mark my words, if you try anything you'll regret it."

You nodded quickly, flopping your legs around. "Just let me go, damnit."

He limped to the side of the bed, and carefully unknotted the ropes, letting them fall to the floor. You looked up at him. "Thank you. Now, care to explain why you showed up here in the middle of the night covered in blood? Actually, how do you even know where I live... I thought I was discreet."

Chan let out a small chuckle. "Stop pouting, it's a bad look on you," he ignored the indignant sounds you let out, and sat on the bed. "and it's really none of your business, ___."

"You made it my business when you ruined my carpet, jackass. And you didn't answer my question. How do you know where I live?" You were starting to get a little annoyed with him.

Chan shrugged, then winced. You had to restrain yourself from asking if he was okay, if he needed anything, if he wanted you to kiss him better. Wait no, that’s not right. You didn’t like him, and that was the end of it.

“I have my ways. Besides, I’m actually pretty sure I know who you are.”

Wait, what?

“You work at a children’s hospital, don’t you?”

Shit, he’s onto you.

“I don’t even know where the damn children’s hospital is, Chan. Also, I don’t have the time to carry out my ‘evil deeds’ and take care of-” you forced your face to scrunch up in disgust, “kids.” There, that should take care of that.

But of course it wasn’t that simple.

You yelped as Chan suddenly pushed you onto your back, head banging into the wall behind you. “What the fuck mate, I thought we had a truce or something-” Chan rolled his eyes so far back into his head, you were momentarily worried that they’d get stuck. Sadly they didn’t, and as always he had a sassy comeback. “You know, ___, you’re a really bad liar. Especially when you’re flustered.”

Well Damn. He was fighting dirty, but two could play that game.

“Oh come on,” you murmured, rolling your hips up to meet his. His cheeks turned a pretty pink, but he stayed unmoving over you. Ouch, that really had to hurt with all of his wounds. “I don’t think I’m the flustered one here, babe.”

Chan scoffed. “If only you could see your own face.”

Oh fuck, why did he have to have such a sexy voice.

You looked away, trying to get your thoughts in order. You were surprised when he took hold of your jaw gently, so that you were looking him in the eyes. Chan smiled. “___... can I kiss you?”

You stuttered. "Chan...I want this. More than you could ever know, but..." You shook your head. "We don't even know each other. I can't just hook up with you and pretend it didn't happen."

Chan looked confused, and you wanted to cry. Of course he didn't understand, he didn't feel any kind of romantic feelings towards you. You gently pushed on his chest, and he moved to lay beside you.

You were surprised when Chan spoke.

"My real name is Christopher. I mean, I like to go by Chan with my friends in Korea, but Chris is my real name. Apart from making your crime life difficult, I'm a producer for a small company."

What. The. Fuck.

Chan, (Chris?) just fucking told you who he was. You could easily out him to the whole world, telling people that their favorite hero was a part time producer. They would probably find that charming.

But you wouldn't. And he knew that. That's why he told you.

"Well?" he teased, "are you going to tell me who you are?" When you hesitated, he spoke again. "You don't have to, you know. But seriously, please don't tell anyone. I'm trusting you with a lot here. I want this to work."

You nodded slowly. "I.. I'm ___ Lee." He looked at you with a weird look. "I know I know, not the most discreet name, but it was all I could think of!" Chan laughed and you pouted, turning away from him. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back to him.

"I swear to god Chan, if you hurt yourself more I will personally drag you out of my apartment."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Chan just laughed again, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a smile. You turned ro face him, hesitating just a moment, then reached behind you and took off the mask covering your face. Chan's eyes widened, but he hurried to do the same.

With the mask off he looked...well, he looked just as you'd always imagined. Not that you had imagined this situation, of course not, but it was so...nice.

You looked at each other for a few moments, just taking it all in. Then, Chan moved forward and kissed you softly. You kissed back, placing a hand on his cheek. When he pulled back, you whined, reaching to pull him in again. Chan shook his head, laughing quietly. "You're so impatient. Let me at least take you out first,"

You stuttered. "I wasn't- I just wanted another kiss, jackass."

He laughed again, his eyes full of mischief. "I'm just teasing you...but really, I want to take you out. I want to get to know you, and we can figure out the rest later."

"I...I want to know you too." You snorted. "This is so unethical, you know that right?"

Chan grinned. "What did I say. We'll figure it out later. Right now I just want to kiss you again."

You rolled your eyes, leaning in. "You should rest. I had to give you a few stitches, and I don't want those to break, if they haven't already."

He nodded. "Yes dear, whatever you say, dear."

"Oh, fuck all the way off."

You sighed contentedly, snuggling close to him. You could definitely get used to this.

《End》

[dobrikswriting]

Sick Day

Request:  can you write something where the reader is sick (head cold or something) and idea 1) david takes care of her and it’s cute or idea 2) he goes out and leaves her at home to care for herself and something goes wrong??

I decided to with the good ending. I love these cute little stories.

Keep the requests coming!

I rolled out of the bed for the first time that day, barely able to breath through my nose and slowly walked over to the bathroom to turn the hot water on hoping the steam could offer some relief. I got undressed and sat down in the shower letting the hot water pour over me, feeling too light headed to stand. I sat there for what seemed like an hour before I heard foot steps walk in the bathroom and then the water turned off.

"You'll boil your skin off if you sit in that hot water any more." David said reaching for a towel to wrap me in.

"I thought you went over to Jason's to do the podcast." I said, my voice sounding funny due to my plugged nose.

"Are you kidding I'm not going to leave you to fend for yourself." David said sitting down on the bathroom counter as I dried myself off, he had already placed some comfy fuzzy pajama bottoms and one of his click bait sweaters on counter for me. "These are fresh out of the dryer." He said picking them up and handing them to me. "Jason came over and we did the podcast here while you were sleeping and cleared the whole day to take care of my baby." He said standing up and kissing me on the cheek. "Well you know we'll cuddle and Natalie and Taylor will take care of us but you know what I mean." He joked smiling at you.

I giggled, and even though I felt like ass, it was nice to know that Dave would clear his whole day for me if I needed it, I know how hard he works to make sure he has footage for the vlog and it takes up a lot of time. It made me feel a little sad he was putting off work for me.

"It's okay really, I can take care of myself I know you had some bits planned with Zane today you should do that." I said getting dressed in the clothes and then reaching for a brush to calm the rats nest that was my hair.

"Absolutely not. Besides cute couple videos are good click bait." He said winking at me before walking out of the bathroom. "Finish getting ready then we have movies to get to."

I smiled to myself, maybe being sick wasn't so bad. I finished brushing my hair before throwing it up in a pony tail and following where David went.

"What's on the schedule" I asked walking into the living room, interested in what movies he had planned. I fell into the couch next to where David was. He opened up his arms welcoming me to cuddle in close to him.

 "Well we of course have to do 50 firsts dates, and then I have a couple 90s rom coms that the fans told me I had watch" He said pulling me close into him. I took a deep breath as I usually did when he pulled in so I could smell his cologne that I had bought him on our first anniversary, this time though my nose was so stuffed up I couldn't even breath through it.

"Can we get some soup?" I asked wanting to do whatever I could to break up the cloudiness in my head.

"It's in the process of being made." David said looking back into the kitchen where Taylor could be seen stirring a pot of what I assumed was good ole canned chicken noodle soup. 

"Just like mom made.": I joked resting my head on his shoulder, while he moved his hand to my outer thigh absent mindedly rubbing his thumb back and forth over my skin. Everything about him was comforting.

About five minutes into the movie Taylor brought me over a bowl of soup with some crackers and a water. "Here you go." She said kindly, placing the food on the coffee table.

"Thank you so much Taylor I know you're an assistant and not a personal servant don't feel like you have to do anything extra for me." I said gratefully moving to pick the bowl up and bring it closer to me.

"It's no worries I'm not just an assistant I'm a friend too and I wanna help you get better if you need anything tell me, or David will." She joked smiling at me and walking away to do actual work.

"She's good." David adding knowing she was exactly right.

I smiled, "Give that girl a raise." I said, only half joking as I brought my spoon to my mouth. I could feel the heat from the broth helping to break up the congestion in my body. "This is so good." I said slightly moaning at the relief. David just smiled at me and kissed my forehead before going back to watching the movie.

We sat in mainly silence while the movie played out, David pulling out the camera a couple times to get a couple cute shots. We had just finished the first one and were deciding what to watch next when Carly and Erin walked through the door. "Hey y/n, how do you feel?" Erin asked sitting next to me with a bag in hand.

"I'm fine it's just a head cold or something, I feel like David told people I was on my death bed" I laughed, every half hour or so today I had gotten a text from a different person asking if I was okay after David said he couldn't hang out.

"We'll we still wanted to help you get better so we picked up a couple things for you and then we will be out of your hair." She said hanging the bag over to me.

"You didn't have to do that. Thank you so much guys!" I said sitting up to see whats inside. I pulled out a couple bath bombs off the very top.

"Those are my favorites when I don't feel good they're relaxing but also fresh so it clears you up." Carly stated. I smiled at her out of gratitude before reaching in for the last couple of items, a face mask, tea and essential oils.

"Thank you so much that was so thoughtful." I said reaching to give both of them hugs.

"Here let me take one and I’ll get a bath going for you." David said grabbing a bath bomb and walking out of the room. "Thank you." I said as he walked away.

Carly and Erin stayed for only a couple minutes more telling me once I was well again they wanted to do a video together which was the least I could do to repay them for their kindness. I said good bye to them and walked in the bathroom where David was stirring the water around to make sure it wasn't too hot.

"I put the essential oils in the diffuser in the bedroom for you once you get out. I'll be editing let me know if you need anything." He said kissing you on the cheek and walking out of the bathroom. I was so grateful for everything he was doing and it made me happy that he would be able to get a little work done too. I quickly got undressed this warm bath definitely more relaxing and helpful than the boiling shower i took this morning.

I took my time to do a face mask and deep condition my hair and just relax listening to peaceful music. I had lost track of time when I heard a knock on the door and David opened it.

"I'm done editing and I was just checking on you." He said coming over and sitting on the floor next to the tub so he was eye level with me, he reached over and starting running his hands through my hair.

"You're done already?!" I asked shocked, it usually took him hours to finish emitting and there was no way I had taken that long in the tub already. He laughed at my shock, 

"I only had a little left to do” He said looking my body up and down. "You know even when you're sick ... you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He said softly looking back up at my eyes.

"I don't know how I got so lucky." I replied.

"I'm the lucky one." He retorted.

"No I really mean that David. Thank you so much for everything you do for me, and for inviting me into your life. You changed my whole world, giving me experiences and friends i would of never had otherwise." I said almost choking up as my heart started to feel so full for all the things I had in life.

"Alright that's enough the cold medicine is making you loopy." He joked, kissing my head. "You are my world." He stood up and walked towards the door “When you're done come to bed. I just wanna lay with you for a while."

All I wanted to do in that moment was be in his arms. The bath had helped a lot and I was feeling better. I quickly got dressed again after drying off. Throwing my hair up in a bun and meeting David back out in his room I smiled at him as I saw him already lying there phone in hand looking at tweets. 

"Everyone loved the cute couple insta stories" He said back at me moving over so there was room in the bed for me. I got under the covers and snuggled in close to him. He kissed the top of my head and wrapped his arm around me running his hand up and down my back and he switched between social media apps.

I don't know if I've ever felt more content in my life. I didn't even care that I was sick anymore, this moment everything felt perfect.

[thefandomlesbian]

“You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” From one of the Drabble lists. Pre-seven wonders. Foxxay :)

Thank you so much for the prompt! 

Read here on AO3! 

“I'd do anything for you

But it's too late and I know I'm making

A fool, a fool of myself

But I can't conceal the way that I feel.” -Fleetwood Mac, “The Way I Feel” 

Misty lifted her head as she crossed the yard from the greenhouse to the academy. She climbed the steps and slipped out of her shoes, leaving them on the porch so she wouldn’t track anything gross into the house. Miss Robichaux’s was by far the nicest building Misty had ever occupied, and the last thing she wanted to do was tarnish it. She had dirt up to her wrists and streaks all over her clothes. I gotta shower. Before, it never would’ve bothered her, but she had Cordelia to impress now--especially since Myrtle had given her new eyes. I really liked her the way she was… But I might like her even more, now. A blush ran up Misty’s neck. She couldn’t let herself think too much about it; otherwise, Cordelia would See her thoughts. 

Drumming her way up the stairs, Misty noted the silence of the house, the absence of other people. Is anybody else even home? she wondered. But she shrugged off the notion. She was used to being alone, even if the house frightened her more than any night in the woods ever had. She gathered up a towel and headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her, and then she stripped herself of her dirty clothes, dropping them in the hamper and cranking on the hot water of the shower. 

She had missed the showers of civilization during her days in the swamp. Everything else about society, she could live without--even electricity was optional for somebody who knew how to grow and wash vegetables and start a fire. But the goat soap she stole from the old lady a few miles up the road from her house just couldn’t touch the chemical smelly-good stuff the girls here liked to use, and the swamp water would never be as clean as the steaming hot flow from the shower tap. Stepping under the scalding stream, Misty shivered, relishing in the feeling of it reddening her skin. She liked to feel herself swell under the water. If it didn’t hurt, it wasn’t hot enough. 

She hadn’t felt that way before. But now, she could never truly shake the stench of the smoke and her own rotting, toasted flesh from her body, no matter how fresh her new skin. The odor haunted her and reared up when she least expected it. She tried to smother it with Madison’s perfumes and colognes and Zoe’s lotions, but it sprung back up, nothing wholly eliminating it. 

Scrubbing herself with a washcloth and vigorously scrubbing her scalp, Misty picked through her curls under the running water and washed the dirt from her leg hair where it had gotten caught and matted. It only took a few minutes for her to feel clean, the fruity and flowery scents of women’s soap surrounding her, and she stepped out, patting herself dry with a towel. She dug around under the cabinet. They’re gonna find out I’m stealing their stuff, eventually. She would handle that when they caught her. Pulling out a tube of Bath and Body Works, she opened the cap and smelled it. “Oh, yummy.” She didn’t even bother to read the bottle as she squeezed out a copious amount of it into her hands and began to rub it all over herself, anywhere she had patted dry, and let the lotion butter up her skin. As she absorbed the scents, she tilted her head back. Oh, she savored this feeling. 

Looking around, Misty surveyed the steamy room for her clean clothes, only to find they weren’t there. I must’ve forgot them. She wrapped her towel around herself and opened the door, stepping out into the hall, face-to-face with Cordelia. “Eep.” She peeped the quiet sound as she blinked at the older woman. Oh, boy. I’m naked. Her throat closed up. I’m naked in front of Cordelia. Trying to push her crush down inside her, she gulped. “Er--Miss Cordelia. Sorry, I just forgot my clothes… I didn’t think anybody was home.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened. “Oh--it’s just us. Don’t ask me where everybody else is, though. Nobody tells me anything. I was looking for you. I cooked dinner.” She smiled. Her odd eyes, the one blue and one brown, darted up and down Misty’s exposed body. I’m pretending I didn’t notice her just check me out. Misty flushed, clutching her towel tighter around herself so her knuckles blanched white. She couldn’t judge; after all, Cordelia had been blind when they met, and she had only seen Misty with her eyes a handful of times. “I suppose I should let you go get dressed.” 

Misty grinned. “Yeah, I might appreciate that.” 

Stepping out of the way, Cordelia let her pass. “You smell good.”

Misty beamed. “Thanks!” Her heart fluttered. She fumbled around with her bedroom door, sliding in and closing it behind her before she gave a gleeful, relieved sigh. 

In a few minutes, she clad herself in some fresh clothes--clothes which were probably altogether too dressy for her to be wearing around the house. She hadn’t been able to salvage much from her old life, mostly things she could steal and barter for at the Cajun markets where she trusted no one would recognize her. This left her choice of outfits somewhat barren. She wiggled her body into a dress she had borrowed from Madison, complete with tall boots, and she carefully picked through her hair so it looked neatly careless. 

Cordelia was at the end of the hall, staring down the staircase, a forlorn look on her face. Misty approached her from behind. She’s so pretty. Her caramel-colored hair matched the wood floors, and her white blouse let just a hint of her bra underneath appear through the sheer fabric. Her jeans were skin-tight. Cordelia hung her head. Misty frowned, touching a hand to the small of Cordelia’s back. Cordelia flinched away in surprise, a hand fluttering over her chest, as her eyes widened in fear. For a moment, Misty didn’t see herself reflected in Cordelia’s odd eyes, but someone else. “Oh--” Her voice was breathless. “Misty. You startled me.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. Are you alright? You’re looking a little downtrodden.” 

Nodding, Cordelia waved off her feelings. “I’m fine,” she assuaged. Misty wasn’t sure she believed her, but she gave a slight smile. “C’mon. I cooked.” As she headed down the stairs, Misty followed, and the first thing that met Misty’s nose was the smell of… cooked meat. Oh god. Misty chewed the inside of her cheek. Cordelia hadn’t told her she was planning on cooking. If she had, Misty would’ve given her a heads up. Maybe there’ll be a vegetable on the side. Something I can eat. 

There wasn’t. As Misty entered the kitchen, a large, beautiful lasagna awaited her. Can I, like, scrape the meat out of it? “This is beautiful, Miss Cordelia,” she complimented. No. Too many layers. She’d get suspicious. She didn’t want Cordelia to think she was ungrateful. Misty was from a place where she ate what was put in front of her or she didn’t get to eat, and while she doubted Cordelia would institute such strict rules, she feared a refusal to eat what was cooked would hurt her feelings. 

“Thank you.” 

Resigning herself to her fate, Misty cut the smallest piece of lasagna she could manage. I’m just going to have to be an adult and eat it. Was it dishonest for her to eat it without telling Cordelia? What if this started a trend? What if she and Cordelia fell in love and Misty started eating meat because she was afraid to tell her and ten years from now they were married and she finally confessed that she used to be a vegetarian and it destroyed Cordelia’s trust in her and they got a divorce? Okay, that’s taking it a little far. Licking her lips, Misty got a bottle of water and sat down at the table across from Cordelia, staring down at the lasagna. 

Cordelia sat, as well. “So…” Misty looked up at her. “How are you liking things here?” 

Misty hurried to cut the lasagna into pieces with her fork, hoping it would make it look like less. I haven’t even tasted it yet. It may be fine. Maybe I can just eat it and then tell her that I don’t eat meat afterward, for future reference. “I, um… Well, it’s a lot better than getting shot at in the swamp in the middle of the night and running around in the slime wearing a nighty.”

Giving a soft chuckle, Cordelia shook her head. “You’re funny.” Her eyes kept darting back up to Misty, like she didn’t want to look away, and Misty felt her face warming at the notion of Cordelia staring at her. “I--I’m glad you’re here. I like having some company in the greenhouse.” Nobody was using it when I got here. “And now, for dinner.” 

“It’s better than boiling vegetables with swamp water over an open flame.” At least I can eat those vegetables. Misty would not complain. She was hungry, but she could always sneak back downstairs later and eat some buttered toast or some tomatoes. “I really like being with you, Miss Cordelia.” 

Cordelia tilted her head. “But?” 

Blinking, Misty shrugged. “But?” she asked. “That’s it. It was a complete sentence.”

Cordelia looked just as astonished as Misty felt. “Usually when someone says something nice about me, they follow it up with a but.” 

“Well, I’m not,” she reassured. Cordelia had an odd look on her face, heartfelt, tender. “I don’t know if I fit in well with everybody else.” She blinked down at her lasagna. She couldn’t take a bite while Cordelia was looking at her, just in case it made her gag. The smell of cooked meat alone made her stomach turn. “But I love being with you.” 

“Thank you, Misty. That’s very sweet of you to say.” Cordelia hesitated, looking down at her own food. “I enjoy your company a lot, as well.” Now, while she’s not looking! Misty took a small nibble of the lasagna. Oh, shit, spit it out discreetly, hurry! Cordelia looked back up at her, and Misty forced herself to swallow with a dry gulp, praying she didn’t turn as green as she felt on the inside. “Are you alright? You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” 

Misty made a quiet, “Ahem,” wondering if she should tell the truth or try to lie on the spot. “I, um… I’m a vegetarian,” she confessed. She wasn’t a very good liar. Cordelia’s eyes widened with shock as Misty spoke the soft words, and desperate to keep from offending her, Misty decided to ramble instead. “My mama made me help cook the Thanksgiving turkey when I was twelve, and when I stuck my arm up its butt, it came to life and it chased me and Mama all over the house, and now whenever I eat meat, it makes me afraid it’s gonna come back to life, which I know is crazy if it’s already been chopped up and cooked, but I still have nightmares about turkey guts splattering all over the house, but I didn’t want to say anything because I really like you and what if it offended you and then we wouldn’t be married in ten years but then I thought what if we are married in ten years and you still don’t know that I’m a vegetarian and I’ve spent ten years going behind your back trying to eat raw broccoli when I’m alone and I’m basically cheating on you with kale, which is a sin all of its own?” 

One could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Misty closed her eyes tightly. “I’m just realizing I probably should’ve stopped talking after I told the Thanksgiving story.” 

Cordelia laughed. Misty dared to open one eye at her, and she, too, had turned as red as the marinara sauce on the lasagna. She covered her mouth as she laughed, but the crinkles around her eyes were mirthful and filled with delight. Misty was afraid to move. “Misty--I made this meal so I could talk to you about going somewhere with me tomorrow. But, for the record… I don’t think you can cheat on me with kale.” She giggled.

“Somewhere like where?” Misty didn’t quite understand. 

“Somewhere like anywhere?”

“Oh, somewhere like a date. Well, shoot, yeah, as long as there aren’t any turkey carcasses!” How did this work out in my favor? 

Cordelia took the bowl of lasagna away from her. “There’s a vegan restaurant a few blocks off from Bourbon Street,” she offered, “if you’d like to go.” Misty nodded vigorously. “And we could go shopping afterward.”

“You want to go shopping with me?” 

“You’re wearing Madison’s look at my legs dress.”

As she stood, Misty looked down at it. It did, indeed, leave very little to the imagination. “Well, I reckon I am. I didn’t know it had a name.” She left the kitchen table and took the plate from Cordelia. “Let me. It’s my mess.” As she passed, Cordelia’s hand brushed down the small of her back and then just a little lower, sending lovely tingles over her entire body. Yep, it’s my mess. 

[snowqueen-68]

So much prologue...

and really sometimes To Prologue or not to Prologue IS the question. I’m pretty sure they aren’t as popular today as they used to be and I think for this book the prologue is not necessary. Much of what is here could be worked into later parts of the story. I keep it here to honor the young 20 something writer who loved prologues and was going through a BIG James Michener phase when she wrote the first part of this novel. Which means she definitely thought - the longer the better! I’ve also included a bit of chapter one - just for something new!

Alastair’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Yes, Master that will do,” he replied, one gray eyebrow peaking towards his hairline, “I think the fourposter was a very nice touch. Thank you.” The older man laughed, gazing back at their work and nodding, clearly pleased. “I agree and not bad for a pair of first-time cottage builders.” Alastair cast a critical eye over the cottage. “No, not bad at all, but I do think it’s too big for one unconscious man, Master,” he said, keeping his tone matter of fact, “I must assume then that the extra room is for me and that I am to stay here.” He knew the answer, really, so Alastair felt no surprise when his Master answered in the affirmative. “We cannot leave Sebastian here alone, Alastair. Obviously. He needs someone to watch over him and to help him once I have returned Lily to this plane. They still have a destiny to fulfill you know and they will need your guidance.” Alastair gave him a helpless look. “What do I know of caring for someone so wounded in mind and body, Master? As he surely will be when he wakes and, even more to the point, I am hardly one to know how to encourage a young man in courtship. I am an Angel, not a Human.” The Master turned to face Alastair fully, his expression calm and reassuring. “Now is not the time for doubt Alastair,” he declared briskly, “We must step forward with certainty and confidence… Cautious certainty and confidence to be sure but with certainty and confidence nonetheless. And I am counting on you…” He tipped his head in the direction of the cottage, “And that young man is counting on you too.” Alastair sighed, rubbing at his forehead with one hand, “Of course Master, I will do whatever you ask.” “Thank you, Alastair,” the Master said simply, his expression grateful, “and as for understanding humans, you will have plenty of time for observation and study while you are here. I think it wise to keep Lily well hidden and away from Earth for a good few centuries, at least.” “Centuries?” This time both of Alastair’s eyebrows popped upwards. He didn’t even bother to hide the slight choke of horror that snuck into his tone. The Master chuckled, “It will not be all that bad, my friend, and you do like to study, do you not? Think of all that you could learn about humans as you wait for Lily to return.” Alastair winced, he couldn’t help himself, “Yes Master…but centuries…” The Master tugged on one of his ears looking uncomfortable. “Well yes, and I do hate to ask it of you Alastair but there is no one I trust more than you…” Alastair fixed his Master with a steady stare and the older man coughed slightly. “It’s true old friend and I really do believe that it would be safest to wait for that amount of time to pass before we allow Lily to return. It is not something that my brother will expect. Patience is not his strength, you know, and in his arrogance, he will assume that it is not ours either. He will be wrong, of course, and will become frustrated and annoyed,” The Master set his lips in a thin line, appearing grimly satisfied, “And I admit, Alastair that I have no issue with my brother being frustrated and annoyed because it makes him sloppy and lazy and that can only be good for us.” “Well I do agree with that,” Alastair said, “especially if it means we will win this part in the game.” “And win we must,” the Master said, “and we will if we play our cards correctly. This is not our darkest hour, Alastair, it is merely a pause in the action. One we must use wisely.” He paused and though his gaze told Alastair that he clearly had more to say the Angel realized that their time together was drawing to a close. “You must go,” he said stating the obvious out loud. The Master nodded. “I must. There is much that I must do before Lily is ready to be sent back but I will be keeping an eye on both you and Sebastian, that I promise and if you need me I will come.” Alastair gave a single nod. “Yes, sir.” It wasn’t anything he hadn’t endured before. “When must I begin to be on guard against your brother and those who work with him?” he asked then, slipping in his questions before the Master departed, “should I be ready to fight them, even as we wait out the centuries for Lily? And what about Sebastian, will he awaken before she returns?” “My brother himself is physically confined until such time as Lily has arrived again on this earthly plane. But that does not mean you should not take precautions now and keep Sebastian safe. As I said before, my brother’s arm is long, and though he knows it to be forbidden he has no trouble casting shades of himself out into the world to coerce the unwary and unprepared into his service. If you remain in this glade you will be safe, no one will find you here, not until after Lily’s birth. But to step beyond it is perhaps not a good idea, at least not at first.” The Master gave Alastair a sad smile as he confined his friend to solitude. Alastair did not protest. There was no point. “As for Sebastian,” the Master continued, “he will sleep until Lily’s 18th birthday and then it is up to you Alastair to prepare him for her arrival, and for his duty.” “It will be as you say, Master,” Alastair agreed, bowing his head slightly. The Master reached out and pulled Alastair into a swift and hard embrace. “Be at peace my friend,” he said, “We have faced the unknown before and triumphed. We will do so again.” Then the older man stepped away, whispered words that Alastair could not hear, shimmered and disappeared, leaving the Angel alone with his sleeping charge. Drawing in another deep and resigned breath, Alastair turned and trudged towards the cottage and its tower, squaring his shoulders and mentally preparing himself for the many long years ahead.

Chapter One Winter – 1986 The village of Schammelsdorf Near Bamberg, West Germany

The pristine field of snow in the empty meadow behind Lily’s home had turned an eggshell blue under the creeping shadows of late afternoon, and in the east clouds were gathering, carrying a promise of even more snow. The forest, thick with birch and pine, hugged the far side of the meadow and marched away both left and right as far as the eye could see, sweeping up steeply rolling hills to merge gradually, or so it seemed, with the ever-darkening sky.  The colors flowed seamlessly away from her as Lily stood at her kitchen window, tea kettle suspended from one hand. Blue, dark green, purple, a canvas of colors that made her wish she’d remembered to grab her camera from her classroom before leaving for the day. The snow, the woods, the sky; they would make a beautiful tapestry and she hadn’t touched her loom in months. It had cost a fortune to have it shipped overseas but she had refused to move without it. “Someday,” she sighed, turning from the window and moving to pour water from the steaming kettle into her waiting mug, “someday when I don’t have so many papers to grade and students to…” The sudden, shrill jangling of the phone in the hallway caught her mid pour, and she jerked so hard in surprise that a cascade of water splashed off the side of her cup, bathing her knuckles with boiling water. “Fu…Frogs and Coffee….,” she hissed dropping the kettle to the counter with a clatter, where it teetered precariously and then tumbled to the floor dragging the tea with it. Lily jumped back out of the way just in time to avoid getting the toes of her tennis shoes deluged with hot water. This time she actually swore, “Bloody Hell!” the words echoing through her flat as she sucked air in through her clenched teeth. The phone continued its sharp insistent screeching. Briefly, Lily considered ignoring the sound, but she had dinner plans and Miranda had said she’d be calling with where and when. She had to answer. “Great timing!” she muttered, stepping gingerly over both the spreading puddle on the floor and several shards of broken ceramic, some of which had tumbled through the kitchen door into the dining room. Jogging down the hall, she skidded to a halt in front of the phone stand just as the ghastly thing stopped ringing. Lily glared at it. “Of course!” she muttered in disgust shaking her injured hand, blowing on her knuckles and wincing at the sight of the angry redness. “God...shit…this hurts like hell!” she accused the avocado-colored phone. “I hope it doesn’t blister!” The phone answered her by ringing again, filling the hallway with its bone-jarring sound. To Lily’s disgust it made her start violently again and this time she grabbed at it immediately, not waiting for it to ring more than once. “Hello?” She sounded sharper than she meant to, the pain in her hand radiating up to her wrist, making her snap. What she really needed to do was run it under cold water. Not waiting for the person on the other end to identify themselves, she tucked the receiver under her chin, against her shoulder and grabbed the cradle with her good hand, dragging the whole thing to the bathroom with her. She turned the cold tap on full blast and stuck her offended knuckles beneath the flow. The pain subsided almost immediately, to her great relief, and as it retreated she became aware that someone at the other end of the phone was calling her name. “Hello, Lily?? Are you there …Lily?” It took a moment for her to recognize the voice. “Bryan?” she asked in surprise, “Is that you?” He started to reply but Lily cut him off, “Wait did you just call me?” Bryan paused, trying to catch up. “No,” he said, then he swore, “Frogs and Coffee…” Lily laughed, keeping her hand under the water, shivering at its winter chill. “That’s where I got that phrase! I just said that myself right when you called and scared me, and I burned my hand and-” “Lily, stop!” Bryan said, raising his voice so that she was brought up short and silenced. “Listen to me.” Lily raised one eyebrow even though there was no one to see her do it. “Wow, ok, well that’s nice. Wonderful to be talking to you again, too, amigo.” Bryan growled, and Lily smiled. She could almost see him scowling at her just like he used to do when they were in college and Lily hadn’t indulged his tendency to take himself so seriously. “Lily!” he barked at her now, silencing her before she could say anything else. “I am calling because they’ve found you. Emmett and Evelyn. I only just found out.”