#putting the rest of this in the tags to let your drabble speak for itself

[takami-takami]

thinking about post-war!Keigo where everything remains the same. Except his wings don't grow back. Everything repairs itself, everything changes back gradually to what it was before but his wings remain the same. Don't remain, rather. It's funny how slow he is, still not adjusted to all of this, given the very purpose of his existence lies in his ability to be fast. Doesn't matter that the reason for his speed is non-existent now. He's a hero, right? Heroes don't cry.

Heroes don't sob over their now-gone cause of existence.

Heroes don't just randomly forget they lost their wings one night, too busy staring at their lover's back with lost, blank eyes. Unaware of his woefully blank amber eyes, you lay beside him in his bed, which feels uncomfortably large now. Another form of failure that hurt his eyes if he didn't already have enough tears streaming down his ugly, scarred face silently, every time he had to begrudgingly look at himself in the mirror. Your attempts and pleas at spooning him tonight were hushed by his silent gaze. Please let me be useful, they pleaded. You gave up. Now gathered in his arms, both of you felt safe.

So safe that he forgot his empty back for a second. As instinct would have it, his back muscles flexed to move his wings to wrap around you. Closed amber eyes and a fuzzy head full of comfort hampered his worries and woes. His mind was too far gone in your soft to register the fact that he had been trying to do this for quite some time now. Unsuccessful attempts forced him to come back to reality. Body writhing, his eyes opened suddenly, wide and full of shock. His hands froze. Keigo slowly comprehended his actions. His eyes felt wet. Awoken by his movements, your body shifted in a frenzy as you turned to face him, eyes open but vision foggy from residual sleep. Out of pure instinct, you cupped his tear-stricken face as you tried hard to understand what the fuck was going on, the best your foggy mind could. His posture and expression worsened.

"Kei', honey, you okay? Kei', talk to me. Wh-" He fell to your chest hard. And bawled like a fucking child. Fists gripped the fabric of your shirt as he sobbed and cried, for god knows how long. You held him with equal force and gently rocked his body, despite a slight understanding of his sudden breakdown. To an extent, you were aware it was because of his wings, with the way he clutched your backside and felt it like it was his own. Whispering soft coos and sweet nothings into his hair continued for a while and near screaming and sobbing turned into silent cries. Eventually, he calmed down. Sensing his discomfort and heavy breathing, you combed your hands gently through his blond locks.

"I love you Kei', you know that right?" No response. Just faint nodding. You suppose that would do for now. uhh hey there V! Call me Rakuyou. This is my first time writing something like this. I've always admired people like you who can express their feelings in words so seamlessly and perfectly. I find Hawks' character quite admirable and well-written, and I most definitely don't gush over the boy every fucking moment. And as for this piece, I'd love to know some tips to write him well and some writing tips that you may wanna share. This might be a Wattpad-level fic at best, but I gave my best. Lemme know your thoughts on this one. I love Keigo and your work!

-Love, Rakuyou. (Crawls into a black hole and dies.)

I ... I do not have words for this. This knocked on my heart like it was a door and said "actually nevermind I'm coming in anyway" and smashed it to pieces on the way in.

#putting the rest of this in the tags to let your drabble speak for itself #but this is so good it feels so visceral. need to comfort this man. jesus. #WHAT DO YOU MEAN WATTPAD AT BEST IM SHAKING YOU !!!!! #also omg thank u for the kind words at the end that means sooooo much to me #my tip for you is never stop cooking cuz im eating this #💌 asks #💞

[petit-etoile]

*meekly raises hand* I'd had an idea for a drabble prompt. That hug Astarion gets? What if it also led to him kissing Tav, really kissing them for the first time? Like one that he is able to put his heart into without the fear of being used and tossed aside?

wave after wave (like a transparent star)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 762 content warnings: none other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, kissing, gender neutral tav, human!tav if you squint archiveofourown: here. .

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils, be added to the taglist here

summary: What if the hug also led to him kissing Tav, really kissing them for the first time?

‘I want,’ you say with the slightest shake of your head, ‘I want. I want  —  ’

This, is what you would say if you had the words to speak. Instead, you stare at Astarion with a sense of unrelenting urgency between the two of you. It’s as though you are frozen in time with your palm resting flat against his, both of his hands framing yours protectively, his skin, his fingers, his everything laid bare against your silly little hand.

Astarion collides with you like a star racing across an ocean. He is a tide that overcomes you and threatens to take you out to sea. You wrap your arms around his thin frame to keep yourself grounded. The dark depths of the ocean swirls around you, but you hold onto Astarion and he holds onto you, your arms wrapped around his waist, his hand gently cradling the back of your head as he desperately presses his forehead against yours with a shuddering breath as he fights that urge to consume.

And just like that, a supernova creates itself in the middle of camp in the dark. You tilt your chin at just the right time to catch his mouth as he crashes into you. Astarion kisses you so passionately that you have no choice but to seek purchase on his shoulders to avoid toppling over. There’s hysteria in his tongue, in the way his lips tremble, but all you can smell is rosemary, bergamot, and brandy, and tears, yours and his together.

This might’ve been how he would have kissed his highborn lover back in Baldur’s Gate before everything. Before mindflayer and tadpole, before Cazador and the attack, before you and your frightening humanity.  This is a kiss a magistrate would have given to a recently courted lover in private away from prying eyes. You almost feel as though you’re being swept off your feet, like you’re being properly romanced instead of hunted in the woods, and it does something to the pit of your stomach. You swoon.

‘I think,’ Astarion says thickly, ‘I know what I’m feeling for you.’

‘I know,’ you say, nuzzling his jaw. ‘I know you love me.’

His eyes soften and then, well, it really is a collision this time. Somehow, Astarion kisses you roughly and tenderly all at once. His nose presses sharply into your cheek, and you clutch his elbows like at any moment, if he chooses to let go, you’ll be stranded at sea. It’s a different kiss from all those you’ve experienced from him before. From the kiss during sunset, the kiss when he first drank your blood, and the shyest kiss from right after his confession. This is something else entirely. A fire let loose in the wood.

He kisses you like a man who has only known hunger. Astarion takes and he takes and he takes until you’re almost certain he’s hunting for your soul from your lips, and you would give it to him if you knew where to look for it. This is a kiss  —  a real and genuine kiss  —  from a man who has only known desperation, nails scraping against the grain, seeking something far beyond himself. You would feel scandalized by the passion if it were anyone else.

And when he’s done fervently kissing you, Astarion cradles your cheek in his hand and runs his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone as if you were the most precious idol he could have laid his hands on.

There’s something different about the gleam in his eye, a glossiness that you’ve never seen before, not really. Beneath all the vitriol and discomfort, there is a young man who wants nothing more than freedom.

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs, and the sound is relief composed as a symphony by the saddest souls. You return the favor, your fingers sliding across the familiar harsh lines of his face, and decide to show him the purest of emotions so that he knows.

‘I don’t know what comes next,’ Astarion says, his tone a touch agonized. ‘But wherever this leads, I know that I want it to be you.’

For once, his words are honest and match his intentions. It’s something you come to cherish. You’re the only one he’ll ever show this side to; this kind devotion belongs to you and you alone. This is the part of Astarion that Cazador can never touch. There is still hope in his skeletal frame.

You kiss his cheek softly.

There’s no other place you’d rather be than at Astarion’s side.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa . #my fic #anonymous #* a thousand lives，and one

[piichuu]

♡ ANNIVERSARY NIGHT - YAMADA ASAEMON SHION

WARNINGS: not proofread, fluff, gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 675

DECEMBER DRABBLES

shion will never understand how he found someone like you, and how someone like you could be with someone like him.

his love for you is bigger than the universe itself, his own words, not yours. he will always take his time to give you hugs, kiss your lips, hold your hand or do something as simple as making sure you’re okay. he will go out of his way for you and will keep doing so until his dying breath.

it doesn’t matter that he cannot see your face that he swears is the most beautiful one in the world. he will love you no matter what. moving his fingers along your face to take in your features is the only thing he needs.

so it’s no surprise that he’s prepared dinner for the two of you when you arrive home from work. there are lit candles on the kitchen table together with a large meal in the middle of it.

there are a bouquet of flowers in a vase, flowers you haven’t seen in your shared apartment before. he must have bought them recently. it is your anniversary after all.

“welcome home darling,” he speaks, walking towards you who’s started taking off your jacket. “i made dinner for you, i hope it looks good. i didn’t burn the house down at least.”

you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. “it’s perfect shion, i can’t believe you pulled all of this off,” he kisses your cheek and hold you as close as he possibly can. “well, i had to do something for my sweet partner who always does so much for me already.”

he strokes your back before taking your hand and leading you into the kitchen. “i made your favorites and bought some flowers as well. i hope they’re the ones i asked for, do you think they’re pretty?” “super pretty, thank you shion. you didn’t have to do all this, though. i feel bad now.”

“well, i expect a gift at least,” he chuckles and ruffles your hair. “i’m just kidding. it’s our five year anniversary and you’ve been working so much lately, of course i had to do something. i wanted to do something.”

you smile softly and press your lips to his for a quick kiss. “you’re the best. are you finished with everything or should i help with the last bits?” he shakes his head. “no, i think i should be done by now, let’s sit by the table. i’ll take care of the dishes later.”

he leads you towards the table and pulls the chair out for you, like a true gentleman before he sits down on the opposite side of the table. shion flashes you a light smile and indicates for you start putting some food on your plate.

you do as he wants and the both of you soon begin to eat. “it tastes wonderful, shion. you’re a great cook,” you speak, watching as a light blush spreads over your boyfriend’s cheeks.

“thank you, my love. it’s just for you,” he admits, lightly kicking your foot with his own which causes you to let out a quiet giggle. “is there anything else you want to do today? are you feeling tired and want to sleep?”

you shrug your shoulders but soon open your mouth to answer. “i’m tired, but we can do something if you want. it’s not like i’m just gonna fall asleep.”

shion shakes his head. “we can do more tomorrow. if you’re tired you should sleep. we’re both free from work tomorrow either way, so let’s go to sleep after this so you can rest. you’ve worked really hard today.”

he reaches for your hand over the table. “i love you a lot, my love. i’m really happy i’ve got to spend five years with you already.”

you take his hand. “i love you too, and i really hope we’ll be together for many more years.” “we’ll be together until death and even after that, darling.”

TAG LIST: @thisbicc @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @chilichopsticks @anqelically @gunslxtz @reiners-milkbiddies

if you want to join the tag list, fill out this form <333

#hells paradise x you #hells paradise x y/n #hells paradise fluff #hells paradise x reader #hells paradise shion #hells paradise #hells paradise imagine #yamada asaemon shion x reader #yamada asaemon shion #yamada asaemon shion fluff #shion fluff #shion x reader #shion #shion imagines #shion x you #shion x y/n #x reader #december drabbles

[nirikeehan]

WIP WEDNESDAY

hello!

Tagged by @theluckywizard and @zenstrike!

Here is some banter between Thalia and Cullen about magic that I have written for the next chapter of Temperance and Templars. This is the pre-Inquisition AU where Cullen has been hired to be Thalia's private templar.

---

Thalia pouted. “If I could just master ice magic, it would be cold in a heartbeat. I could cool the whole house!”

“Easier said than done,” Cullen countered. The girl had big dreams about magic, he’d learned, most of which only vaguely lined up with reality. “The substance doesn’t contain the same elements as naturally occurring ice. It works best as a targeted attack. The energy you’d need to cool the house would be concentrated in a blast that could probably bring down a wall… or freeze someone to death, and leave the rest of the space unaffected.” 

Thalia let out a wistful sigh. “You’re so smart, Ser Cullen.” 

Cullen smiled in spite of himself. “I only seem so because you’ve never spoken to a real magic scholar.” 

They had reached a delicate peace since their confrontation earlier in the month; a small spark of respect had arisen between them. Cullen knew this was mostly because he must appear to her as a font of forbidden knowledge. He shouldn’t be encouraging what amounted to illegal magic use, but he was hoping gentle reinforcement might make her reconsider what the Circle had to offer her. 

“Well, maybe you can bring one here for me,” she quipped, smirking. 

“Above my pay grade, unfortunately.” The Circles did sometimes lend out their mages for a price, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. They certainly didn’t do it for apostates seeking secret instruction. 

“Alas.” Thalia put the sweating glass down on the marble bench beside her and turned the book to face him. “Do you understand this spell?” 

Unease flooded him. He could speak of the basics without harm, but the last thing he wanted to do was wind up as her personal coach. He glanced at the open page. Thalia had amassed a collection of archaic and esoteric tomes, mostly through contacts of her father. Idle nobles often peddled in such things, although in his understanding, the literature itself rarely  contained actionable magic. They were novelties that leaned heavily on aesthetics and appealed only to laypeople and the utterly uninitiated. Tomes of true power were guarded by the Circles, the College of Magi, or the magisters of great Tevinter in the north. 

Cullen frowned at the old-fashioned handwriting. He could, in theory, confiscate this material and others, but letting her think him a magnanimous overseer had more value than giving her more reason to think him a tyrant.

“Only a little,” he said, mostly to humor her. It was far more mundane than her failed blood magic spell, he was able to tell that much. Based on the accompanying illustrations it seemed adjacent to alchemy, already a fraught and often falsified art. “I’m not sure I believe it could work as instructed, but I’m not qualified to say for sure.” 

Thalia let out a dismayed breath. 

“I’m not trying to ruin your fun on purpose,” Cullen added quickly. “It’s just true a lot of unsanctioned tomes are… unreliable in their accuracy.” 

“If I had some lyrium, I could try it,” Thalia mumbled glumly, turning the book to pour over it once more. 

A pregnant silence followed, during which Cullen nearly laughed. If she was fishing for a lyrium donation, she would remain disappointed. 

---

Tagging, if interested:

@oxygenforthewicked | @highwayphantoms | @monocytogenes | @inquisimer | @bluewren | @delicatefade | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @demarogue | @little--abyss | @rowanisawriter

#wip wednesday #temperance and templars au #thalia trevelyan #cullen rutherford

[livingforthewhump]

Follow-up to this drabble

—

It had been a week since they’d gotten out. Whumpee was curled into a ball, on the floor beside their bed. Their room alone didn’t feel hidden enough anymore. They couldn’t seem to convince themselves that they were safe now. Whumper couldn’t walk through the door, but… any of their team still could.

They dreaded being the focus of their attention, their questions. They craved it.

Sobs caught in their throat, tears tracing patterns down their cheeks. They muffled the sound into their arms, curling tighter into themselves and praying they wouldn’t be heard. They hadn’t been before.

Darkness seemed to overtake them again. They could still feel Whumper’s hands, hear the horrible glee in their voice, see their smile, and still their back was burning and burning and burning with the mark Whumper put there. The burning of it seemed to consume time itself, turning minutes and seconds and hours to ash, and eventually the darkness around them sprawled into sleep.

Teammate lingered outside of Whumpee’s door, hand hovering over the doorknob. Whumpee was usually reclusive, but this… this was worrying them. They couldn’t get the image of Whumpee shaking with fear out of their head, or the brittle look they had to them every time Whumper would carry them back to the rest of the team. Whumpee had refused to talk about what happened, and Teammate’s heart broke at the thought of them dealing with whatever Whumper had done alone.

But ever since getting back, Whumpee’s door was always locked. An impenetrable barrier between them and the soft sobs they knew Whumpee tried to smother until they exhausted themselves to the point of falling asleep. Whumpee hadn’t let them search them for injuries. Teammate thought the least they could do was stay by Whumpee’s door, so at least they wouldn’t be alone.

They were interrupted from their thoughts by weak screams coming through the door, interlaced with choked, desperate sobs.

Teammate wrenched at the doorknob before remembering it was locked, calling Whumpee’s name. They muttered a curse when there was no response save for the screams subsiding to loud crying. Teammate slammed their shoulder against the door until it crashed inwards, making Whumpee yelp. They grimaced at the pang of guilt it sent through them as they raced around the bed then froze at the sight that met them.

Whumpee was curled on the floor, shaking with sobs and fear and who knows what else. Their hands scratched and pulled at a spot on their back that they couldn’t quite seem to reach. Broken words fell from their lips between their sobs, but they made out “please please stop, it hurts, it hurts, pl-ple-ease”.

Teammate took a breath and stepped closer, trying to ignore how Whumpee flinched away. Whumpee was lost in memory, and the idea of them seeing Whumper in place of them made Teammate feel sick.

“Whumpee,” they breathed, carefully pulling Whumpee’s hands away from their back. They cupped Whumpee’s tear-slicked face in their hands and set one of Whumpee’s hands at their collarbone. “You’re okay now, Whumpee. You’re safe. Can you match my breaths, please?”

Whumpee’s eyes were clouded with incoherency as they breathed in time with Teammate. Their breaths were stuttered and choked at first, but slowly evened out. Finally, Whumpee’s eyelashes fluttered, and they seemed to see Teammate in front of them for the first time.

Whumpee gasped and pulled away. “Te-Teammate, what, what are you, um-“

Teammate’s hands fell to their side, though they stayed crouched in front of them. “You were having a nightmare. I think. I heard you screaming, and you were acting like your back’s hurt.”

Whumpee looked like a deer in the headlights. “You… you didn’t look, did you?”

Teammate swore they could hear their heart shatter. “No, I didn’t. But, if you’re hurt, I can help you. You don’t have to keep doing this alone, Whumpee.”

“No no no no, I wanted it where no one would see-“ They cut off with a sob, looking so small and fragile that Teammate wanted nothing more than to protect them from this cruel world.

They reached out and took Whumpee’s hand. Whumpee looked too surprised to pull back, and after a moment, held on tightly.

“I’m scared, Teammate,” they breathed.

“I know. And that’s okay. I want to help you.” They hesitated. “You don’t have to tell me or show me anything you don’t want to, but if I know what it is that’s hurting you, I can help. And the rest of the team doesn’t have to know if you don’t want them to, either. Or, if you’d rather have someone else help…”

“No, I,” Whumpee took a shaky breath. “I want to show you. But no, no one else.”

“Okay. Thank you. Is it on your back?”

Whumpee nodded wordlessly, and Teammate moved behind them.

“I’m going to lift your shirt so I can see, okay?”

Another nod.

Teammate took a deep breath that Whumpee copied as they pulled the fabric up, revealing Whumpee’s pale back that was littered with raised, pink scratches. Teammate had the horrible sensation they came from Whumpee’s own hands. Then, between their shoulder blades-

They sucked a breath through their teeth. Their vision blurred with tears, but the words branded into Whumpee’s skin burned with equal ferocity into their mind.

‘Property Of Whumper’- the words were angry and red and sweltering. Whumpee’s earlier words caught like thorns in their heart: “I wanted it where no one would see.”

They were going to kill that waste of life who did this to Whumpee. They didn’t even want to think about what they’d said to them.

“I can go get you some medicine and burn cream,” Teammate said, trying to keep their voice calm. “Bandages too. And some water- you’re probably dehydrated.”

“Wait,” Whumpee caught their arm and pulled them back. “Don’t leave yet. Please?”

Teammate nodded, the pieces of their heart being ground to dust at the helplessness on Whumpee’s face.

“I’ll stay as long as you want.” They knelt back down, and Whumpee leaned slowly against them. There was a small silence before Teammate found the courage to speak. “You know it’s not true, right?”

Whumpee hesitated a bit too long before saying “mhm.”

“No- Whumpee, I want you to believe me. It’s not true, and I am going to make Whumper pay for ever telling you it is. Okay?”

The smallest of smiles ghosted Whumpee’s face. “Okay.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @susanshinning @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @cherryblossomskye @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @shameful-indulgence @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf (also tagging @just-some-writing-from-neptune @crimson-wrld @hurting-fictional-people and @break-so-beautifully bc y’all were interested in part 2)

#whump #my writing #mine #whump drabble #whumpee #caretaker #team whump #whump aftermath #caretaking #comfort #angst #injury reveal whump #hidden injury reveal #tw nightmares #nightmare comfort #branding

[americasass81]

Pretty As A Picture

Warnings:- Predominantly Fluff, Very Mild Smut (fingering), Use of Pet Name, Feelings of Insecurity. 18+ only. Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. Feedback is welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

A/N:- This little drabble was written especially for @sugardaddytonystark. I really hope this hits the spot.

Pairing:- soft!Tony Stark x Female Reader

Synopsis:- Feeling insecure about meeting the Avengers for the first time, Tony does what he can to reassure you.

Word Count:- 1,059

The party was in full swing when Tony found you sitting on the bed staring off into the unknown. Looking stunning in the shimmering purple silk dress he had secretly picked up for you earlier that day, he couldn't remember the last time any woman had taken his breath away, but you did it effortlessly on a daily basis. Still gazing on your silent form, he knew you well enough by now to know something was bothering you and so shutting the door behind him, he closed the distance between the two of you to kneel before you. "Darling, you’re absolutely breathtaking. But what's the matter? Why aren't you at the party?" he asked, taking your hands in his and placing soft, tender kisses across your knuckles.

Drawing you slowly back to the present, he smiled at you gently when your eyes finally locked with him and his presence was at last made known to you. "Tony, what time is it?" you gasped, suddenly taking in both of your attire before continuing, "has the party started? We'd better go see to the guests." you stated as you tried unsuccessfully to free yourself from his clutches and head towards the door. But Tony was having none of it.

Placing one arm firmly on your thighs to hold you in place, his other hand reached up and gently caressed your cheek as he moved your head to look at him once more. "My darling, the party can wait. The guests can go amuse themselves. Something's bothering you so please tell me what it is."

Looking into the loving eyes of the man who daily told you how treasured you were, you found the strength to confess your deepest fear. "What if your friends don't like me Tony? I mean look at me." you sighed, as the tears began to slowly cascade down your cheeks to meet his wandering fingers. "It's not like I'm pretty like Wanda or strong like Natasha. Hell, I'm not even as sophisticated as Pepper. Surely you can do better than me."

Seeing the anguish on your gorgeous face and knowing how hard it was for you to say what you just had broke his heart, but Tony knew he had to make you see that you were everything to him. So rising from the floor, he pulled you gently from the bed and placing you on his lap, encased you in his strong arms before speaking. "My beautiful darling, don't ever think for one second that you are not a match for any woman. You are the most glorious goddess on this earth and I am thankful every day you willingly choose to put up with my sorry ass. If I was told this second I had to pick between you or my fortune, I would choose you. Always."

Opening your mouth to protest at this ridiculous proclamation while his lips found that soft juncture between your neck and shoulder blades, his warm touch and talented mouth swiftly shut you up before he spoke again. "No, trust me. I've never lied to you and I'm not about to start now. No object in this world, man made or otherwise, could ever match your beauty and if it takes until my dying breath, I will make you see I'm right." he promised, laying you gently back on the bed before moving his lips towards yours as a hand worked its way towards your thigh. Moaning as his lips connected with yours while his hand slid through the slit in your dress, he couldn't hide the devilish smirk you loved so much when his fingers connected with nothing but your waiting heat.

"Oh my naughty girl, what's this?" he asked cheekily as his fingers began to play with your soft folds. "No panties darling? Was someone hoping to get a little action?" he quizzed as his lips found yours once more and this time his tongue warred with yours as his fingers buried themselves in your aching pussy. Moving your hips to help urge his fingers deeper as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth a groan left both of you when J.A.R.V.I.S. suddenly interrupted to inform Tony that talk was beginning to circulate that his lady love was nothing but a figment of his overactive imagination.

Dropping his head onto your chest while supporting his weight on his elbows, you let out a laugh as he muttered about ungrateful teammates before raising his eyes to look at your wondrous face. Smirking down at him while biting your lower lip, he kissed each of your silk-covered breasts before breaking the silence. "The cheek of those sods to say you don't exist. Just wait until they lay eyes on you." he said as a hand came up to cup your chin. "Just look at you," he added as he reluctantly stood up and helped you from the bed, "your smile is like a breath of spring. Your eyes sparkle like the morning dew on the delicate flowers. And darling, your soul shines brighter than the rarest star." he finished while rearranging his suit as you walked away towards the vanity unit.

Giving yourself the once over as Tony straightened up his tie, you then rose to your feet to face a proud looking avenger as he held out his hand in order to pull you towards him. "Now," he added, bending forward to kiss your soft lips and convey all the love he felt for you before he spoke again, "how about we do a quick lap and then say hi to everyone before I throw their ungrateful asses out so I can spend the rest of the night reminding you just how beautiful you truly are."

Shaking your head at his plan while taking in the heated looks Tony kept sending your way, you smiled shyly before kissing him back with all the passion you felt for him. Then leaning into the comfort of his warm embrace, you left the safety of the bedroom and head held high, walked out proudly with Tony Stark beaming beside you and spent the rest of the evening getting to know his friends as the man who loved you more than life itself imagined all the ways he would show you just how spectacular you really were.

Tagging: @sugardaddytonystark

#soft!Tony Stark x Female Reader

[bangtan-dreamland]

all i wanna do (is grow old with you)

Pairing: ot7 x gn!reader (a drabble for each member)

Word Count: 3430

Warnings: no warnings needed! this is basically just feel good u.u

Rating: pg

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

Summary: a small collection of moments in the domestic bliss you and him held.

AN: dropping this here for no reason other than to say yes I am alive strong power thank you

»»————-　♡　————-««

playfights are something that you always have to be on watch for with seokjin, with how mischievous he is. and at this moment, washing your dog, you are ever more on guard. or maybe not, because while you continue on lathering your dog's dirty fur, you suddenly feel a blob of something wet on your head. your hair, to be specific. you can feel the soap slide down like a boat would fall down a waterfall, you flash a glare at seokjin, who's suddenly looking all too nervous, eyes blinking fast, but the smile on his lips giving him away as the guilty apprehender. 'it was the dog!' he cries out, and you almost lunge at him- while he jumps away from you. 

'seokjin! get back here!'

'i'm innocent!' 

'no you're not, that was the worst excuse i've ever heard!' 

you both end up running around the garden, soap trailing behind your figures and bubbles behind you, laughter ringing out in the air as you try, again and again, to catch him. it's almost infuriating how your lover uses his longer legs to keep a healthy distance between the two of you. when you finally corner him, you're both out of breath, and the water has made your clothes cling on too tight to your bodies, but you haven't grinned or smiled or laughed as hard in a while, and the mirroring look on your lover's face makes you think it's worth it.

'it was an accident,' he insists. 'the dog threw it, not me.'

you can't even refute the ridiculousness of that statement. oh wait. you can. 'jin, the dog doesn't even know how to throw the soap! and definitely not on my hair!'

a look of pure incredulity shows on his face, pout appearing and eyes blinking fast as if it will help give him credibility, the dork. 'well, that's what it wants you to think.' he concurs with a mockingly offended, quite overly dramatic tone, complete with a vivid shaking of the head. 'but i saw differently!'

'don't you believe your husband?'

you burst out laughing, all over again, for some reason you can't even explain, your heart sosososo full of love. 'god, why am i even in love with you?'

(the two of you do clean up the garden afterwards though, the plants and furniture drowned while you weren't looking- not to mention you have to give the dog a bath all over again, as it rolled around in the dirt while the two of you were busy playing tag. 

seokjin, for his part, is completely unrepentant. you should be stricter, but...

well. at least he made you cookies afterwards.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

it's an hour after three when yoongi comes home, tired, drowsy figure almost collapsing on the sofa as he yawns. he almost falls asleep when you flick the lights back on, watching with no small amount of glee and (some) frustration as the man startles, almost falling off said furniture.

'you really have got to stop staying up until it's almost daytime,' you chide him, walking over to tug him up and off of the sofa, sighing as you card fingers through his matted locks. he looks up at you with the poutiest expression ever, and you steel yourself to not give in with the sheer amount of cute that has congregated to make the person named min yoongi in your arms. instead you amble with him up the stairs, the two of you making for a pair of sleepy, exhausted lovebirds. you'll have to put in first floor  bedrooms when you look for a house together, this happens one too many times already.

when you reach your shared bedroom, you push him into the shower, the water already heated up, while you take out a pair of pajamas.

drying his hair, when the both of you are prone to nodding off, is a herculean chore. still, it's not as if you're okay with wet hair on your pillow, and you know that's an easy way to get sick the next day for him. 'you were in your studio again, weren't you?' you grumble, although you're pretty sure he's fallen asleep already and you're talking to no one. yoongi, for all that he is there to take care of others, is surprisingly receptive to affection when left without a choice. 'i had to,' he surprisingly says, stubborn, but with a sigh, his tone quiet but firm. 'inspiration struck'. and you can't even argue against that, knowing full well how a muse is to her artist. so instead you settle for drawing him close, close, close, muttering softly.

'maybe i should ask if they can add a bedroom to the studio.' you feel him smile against your skin, voice close enough to murmur in your ears. 

'you know i'll only ever get to really sleep when i'm beside you.' 

you scoff. 'you and i both know that's not true.'

warmth against your skin, an arm over yours, and a leg intertwined, soft hair tickling your cheeks, and you feel as if you could head off as it is, but no. he has the audacity to speak up again.

'you are my most melodious lullaby, the sweetest good morning, the link between my dreams and reality. if you aren't there when i sleep and when i awake, then how do i know you aren't just something i've been dreaming for? that you’re actually real, and right beside me?' he presses a kiss against your skin, and, god, that smooth ass jerk, you refuse to look at him at all.

(you both wake up late that morning, and you find you can't complain in the end anyway. even though he always ends up staying up far too late, at least, you know this, you and him will always be each other’s first view in the morning.

not a dream, indeed.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'come on, love, dance with me!' you grin widely as you surprise hoseok, holding his hand captive in yours, the feather duster falling from his hands as you slide in front of him, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheeks. 

he splutters, 'i thought we were supposed to be cleaning,' he raises an eyebrow at you, but you only nuzzle your nose against his, clutching onto him with a pout. there is a standoff with the two of you ending up staring at each other with all the fondness you can feel inside you, one that you end up winning when he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

'dusting can wait,' you insist. 'we're both already filthy anyway!' he feels the laughter bubble up inside him, the helplessly fond smile he has reserved for you and you only showing. but you're not lying, the attic room has been a mess the whole day and one afternoon will not transform it instantly. which is why, rather, standing in the middle of the not-so-crowded-anymore room, the sunlight beaming down from the window and the radio playing out an old love song, you find yourself more inclined to drop what you're supposed to be doing, in favor of spending a few minutes to indulge. 

'your parents will get angry,' he points out, and you hum as you place your hand with his, his arm settling across your waist. this is far from what he normally dances, sharp moves and fluid spins becoming slow and sweet, the usual awe-inducing performance making way for intimacy in that private way, where the two of you are in your own world, closed off from the others. in this moment, you think that's not that far off from the truth. 

'they won't mind,' you shake your head. 'and we can just take a bath afterwards.' he leads you in a sort of glide, across the room, the melody turning and twirling you around, heart beating in both of your chests in a steady, steady rate, each in time with the music. and when he ends the dance, you in his arms, both of you slightly breathless, staring into each other's eyes, you find yourself wondering not for the first time if your lover is not warmth itself reincarnated, for how else can you explain away the feeling of being awash in sunlight, not a single part of you left untouched?

(what was supposed to take only a few days turns into a week and then some, but you can't feel regret for a single moment as the attic becomes filled up with memories you already cherish, a secret hideaway for the two of you.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'namjoon, come sit down on the grass with me,' you call out, pout on your face as you beckon your lover to come on over. han river remains sparkling no matter whether daytime or nighttime, the waters reflecting the city's beauty, and you are not the only admirer. still, there is something to be said about the way your lover looks as he falls into his thoughts. the two of you made plans to have a picnic here in the park, as the setting sun made itself known across the sky, but it's less of a romantic escapade than it is a moment of peace, a brief respite in your hectic lives. 

'we should have brought a blanket,' he finally says, but you interlace your hand with his, your fingers with his own, tugging him down. he easily complies for all that he complains, and you don't think even he can deny how the grass feels under you. staring up at the dimming sky, blue and red bleeding into gold and purple, the stars beginning to peek through the curtains of night, you find yourself drifting away, the lull of the city dragging you to rest.

'what do you think of the multi-universe theory?' you hear him ask. namjoon is looking up at the sky, and there is a familiar expression on his face that tells you he is thinking about the secrets of the universe yet again, of the human nature and how each and everyone is connected. it's when he looks a little dazed, eyes focused on something beyond, a wistful tone in his voice, and he falls quiet, but when he speaks his thoughts there is always a 'what if?'. 'i wonder if we'd met in other universes too,' he says simply. 

you laugh, gently. 'kim namjoon, if you are saying that there is a universe in which i see you and fail to love you, then let me reassure you now.' he looks away, a pout barely surfacing on his face, and you turn towards him, hands clasped together and your hair spread below you, the two of you picture perfect. 'maybe that universe does exist. maybe in another space and time, i wouldn't have the blessing that i have here, to love you as freely, as much as i can. but this isn't that universe, and nothing will stop me from staying by your side.'

by the end of it, your head is turned away with embarrassment, unable to take what might be his reaction. when you hear him huff, quiet, you turn around. what greets you is namjoon, blushing. 'what would i do without you?' he smiles, soft and sheepish and loving, and you roll your eyes, even as you feel yourself become something not unlike putty in this man's hands, a wave of love crashing over the sandcastle that is you. 'let's hope we never find out.'

(you spend hours in that park, talking about everything and anything, and when you go home it must be close to midnight. not that you regret it, though, when the two of you clumsily almost topple over each other, collapsing on your sofa, together, while you order takeout for the nth time because you're both too tired to cook.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

you don't think much of it, stealing jimin's clothes is as normal, as easy as that for you. the two of you practically share the other's now, a constant mismatch between your closet as what is yours and what is his is blurred, the lines toed and crossed over every time that it's simply easier to count your closets as one being rather than two.

still, it makes for a messy, uncoordinated space, and it easily slips from your mind, or his, of the whereabouts of your belongings.

'babe,' you can hear the pout in his voice. 'did you see my hoodie?' 'which hoodie?' 'my favorite one!' 'which favorite one?' at this point you see his head pop out from the doorframe, prominent lips stuck out and eyes searching the room. 'it's the green one, the soft, huge, green hoodie. that one.'

you stifle a rising amount of chuckles as you eventually realize the location of the hoodie in question- on your body, as you stole it from his closet just this morning. you don't think you can be seen as guilty though, not when the hoodie itself seemed to be begging for someone to wear it. impossibly soft, impossibly huge and impossibly sweet-smelling from the laundry softener you used, it was easy to drown in it and comfortably doze off. 'sorry baby, i don't know where it went.' 'okay, but, babe, can you help me...'

you startle as you surprisingly feel the shadow of your lover on your body, handsome face so suddenly, so dangerously close to your own, even if upside down. 'yn, you had it all this time!' you chuckle at the whine in his voice, even as he leans forward to try and tug it off you. 'give it now,' he says, but you shake your head, giggling as jimin tries. 'raise your arms! i can't believe you made me run around looking for this,' he grumbles, but you cross your arms instead, sitting up, turning around to face him, preparing yourself for a fight. 

'no way, this is the softest hoodie in the house. i'm not giving it up.'

a moment of silence, and then- jimin attacks you, lunging forward to glomp you. you feel yourself become confused, when you feel his fingers around your sides, and you burst out into laughter, long and loud. 

'no, jimin!' 

'give it back!' 

'no way!' 

'then suffer under my wrath!'

(he only stops when tears actually appear at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard, easily sprawling across your chest, the two of you on the floor and too tired to move. 'we can share,' you hum, choking as your lover narrows his eyes at you, before decidedly burrowing under your hoodie as well. with how big it is, and how not big both of you are, you surprisingly fit with him inside. it's too warm for two people inside, but as jimin lays his head comfortably across your chest, the thumping of your heart lulling him to rest, and he holds you in his arms, neither of you find you can argue against your positions.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

waking up with taehyung in the morning is an ordeal that never fails to make you smile. warmth pooling across the sheets, the warm breeze drafting in from the window, your lover's body wrapped around yours- there is a kind of holy in the way serene mornings like these are, quiet and golden, the world seemingly stopping for a moment, if only for the two of you.

it breaks your heart every time to have to shatter the illusion. 'taehyung', you whisper. there's not even a twitch in his movements, snoring quiet but steady as he continues off to slumber. you, however, can't get out of his hold, not without the man releasing you anyway- you would know, you've tried so many times before and it's always been a moot point. the only way to get out of taehyung's grip, is to wake him up into doing so. still, you find yourself soft and hesitant, every single time. 'taehyung,' you try again, a little louder this time. you shake him, and it takes you a solid minute or two for the man to actually make a sound, a low groan at the back of his throat. when he registers the situation at hand, though, your lover declines to release you, holding you captive with his embrace instead.

'stay in bed with me,' he almost whines, and you press your lips together to stop yourself from bursting into giggles.

'you know i can't do that,' you rebutt. 'i have work in an hour!' 

'but i can't sleep without you.'

'you big baby,' you fondly, exasperatedly call him out, and you see him briefly crack his eyes open, if only to look at you with a pout. 

you see him struggle whether or not to protest your words, before the sleepy takes over and he lazily agrees, pulling you closer in return. 'mhm, i'm your baby...' 

'taehyung...' 

'just a few more minutes, i swear,' he presses a light kiss on your forehead, and you know it's not just your imagination that you feel him smile against your skin, when you sigh loudly, relenting to his demands. 

'you're incorrigible,' you whine as you bury your head in his chest. 

'only because i love you.' 

you would call it a laugh if it weren't for the yawn that sneaks in at the end.

and just as easy as that do you both fall off back to sleep, your phone's alarm scaring the hell out of you half an hour later. it was practically a given that you'd end up falling back to sleep with him really, you could say it was a ritual at this point.

(you end up being late to work, as a matter of fact, but you can't even find it in yourself to be angry. after all, there is quite nothing like waking up together in the morning, especially with your lover.

he takes you out on a date to the amusement park that weekend too, so you suppose you can forgive him.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'jungkook,' you muffle your laughter behind your hand, but there's no denying the bright grin on your face as you feel your lover's arms encircle your waist. bright and early, it's early enough into the morning that the sky is still caught between the hues of red and pink, like a rose slowly blooming from night's embrace. it's what makes your lover's apparent waking state a mystery, when you know how heavy your lover sleeps. there goes your plan to bring him breakfast in bed, huh? 

'what are you even doing?' you receive no reply, not one in words anyway, as you hear him mutter something unintelligible into your shoulders. his warmth against your back is addicting, especially in the chill of the morning air, but you're nothing if not determined, and if he's here to drag you back to bed, you're having none of it. 'if you're sleepy,' you start, turning around to hug him properly, jungkook's face nuzzling into your neck afterwards. 'you should go back to bed.' 'but you're not there with me,' you finally hear him say. 'just go back to cooking, i'll just stay here...'

'jungkook, i can't cook while you're wrapped around me!' you almost burst into laughter at that, what more at the earnest expression on your lover. 'why not?' he grumbles, a pout appearing on his face. you don't know whether to shake your head, or what- when your lover uses what he knows is his greatest weapon against you. 'don't give me that look,' you sigh, but your resolve crumbles quickly, and it's obvious that jungkook can see it as well.

'don't blame me if it turns out burnt,'  you finally sigh. you feel, rather than hear him chuckle briefly. 'i'm sure it will still be delicious.' 'you say that no matter what i cook,' you mutter under your breath and he stays quiet because you're right. instead, you finally feel him disentangle from your, rather reluctantly, before he gets his own apron and gloves. 'then i guess we should just cook together then,' he declares, bumping shoulders with you. 'can't mess it up then, can we?' he smirks, cocky and familiar, and you roll your eyes even as you feel yourself settle so easily by his side, the two of you finishing breakfast together.

(the food, amazingly enough, does not become burnt, and turns out well instead. of course, he did help you after all. still, sitting at the table, eating together, you smile easy, softly. how can you not? everything about this moment is perfect, and you wouldn't have any qualms about it lasting forever.

judging by the smile on jungkook's face, you aren't the only one to feel this way, too.)

#bts x reader #ot7 x reader #ficswithluv #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanscenery #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts drabble

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Jeon Jungkook 🎃

Halloween Series: Werewolf Jeon Jungkook

Every month, on the night of the change, it’s the same. Stay away from Jungkook, find Jungkook the morning after, act like nothing happened, resume normal life, until the next month. And then it all begins again. However, something about this month feels a little different, and you’re not quite sure, but it feels like something big. 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Halloween, Spooky Season, Jeon Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook x you, Jungkook x reader, Werewolf Jungkook

Genre: Dark Fluff, Angst

Title: Promise

(Image Credit: https://twitter.com/kanux4  )

The morning after the change is always the same. 

You wake in an empty bed, fingers dancing across the bed sheets to find the warmth of Jungkook’s body beside you, only instead, to find abandoned, cold linens where he was the night before. 

Sighing heavily, you force yourself out of said bed, and glance at the clock on the nightstand. 

Five AM. 

The red numbers blink back at you through the muted darkness of the still wakening sky-barely penetrating through the thick, cold fogged window panes of the cabin-as you shiver in the suddenly cool air of the bedroom.

Leaving the deserted bedroom, you make your way to the living room, where a fire still manages to crackle weakly in the hearth from the night before. Throwing in some more wood to bank the flames, you sit down on the old sofa, reaching blindly for your boots that you had discarded before bed, blinking sleep from your bleary eyes. 

Lacing up the boots, you stand-stretching your arms above your head-and head toward the door, where you take your already prepared backpack from the hook, and sling it across your shoulders. Reaching for your heavy knit beanie and slouching it low over your ears, you grab the flashlight and truck keys from the kitchen table, the last supplies you’ll need in your search for Jungkook. 

“Scout.” You whistle between your teeth, calling the dog’s name in a low, husky voice-still laced with sleep-and immediately, the large dog, curled in a blanket beside the fire, is at your side, looking up at you with bright alert eyes and tongue lolling. 

You let your fingers trace across the mutt’s head-soft fur comforting beneath your fingertips for a moment-and then give him one last pat, before you open the door to the frigid, early morning, outside world and say, “Let’s go find dad.”

*******

The large plot of national forest that lies behind the cabin is not hard to navigate, crisscrossed by long, dirt roads and hiking trails that carve into the underbrush and disappear into the thick glen of trees that cover the hillside. 

And for someone like you-who has been driving the trails in the same old pickup for years-the forest holds a certain comforting, familiarity in the early morning light of the dawn. 

You turn the truck down one of the better worn roads that leads into the deep forest, ending in a glen against the sharp, steep crannies of the hillside, and let your hands go on autopilot as you steer the vehicle back toward the mountainside. 

For someone claiming that “the wolf” is nothing more than a wild animal, Jungkook always seems to pick the same, easily accessible spot for you to find him the morning after. 

As you pull the truck into the clearing, lurching it to a stop and shutting off the engine-the sudden quiet around you a little chilling-you reach up to finger the large, silver cross that rests between your breasts, hidden away under the material of your coat. 

The cross that JK always insists you wear-day and night-when you’re around him. 

For protection. 

Shaking out of your thoughts, you reach for the door handle, as an excited Mac clambers over you, eager to be out of the truck and into the clearing first, his nose already twitching with all the smells and new things to discover. 

“Get down, you daft dog.” You complain, shoving the dog’s large body off of you, as he bounds outward into the clearing, happily peeing on trees and following natural scents through the grass. 

Tugging on the strap of the backpack, you exit the truck, slamming the door shut behind you, as you let out a long, low exhale into the cold, morning air, your breath turning frosty as soon as it passes the warmth of your lips. 

Suddenly, Mac barks loudly, and you glance in his direction, just as Jungkook steps out from behind one of the larger trunked trees. 

He walks toward you-full, bronze skinned, muscular body on display-and you wonder, just briefly as you shiver violently in your heavy coat, like you do every month, how he’s not freezing his ass off. 

“Took you long enough.” He shoots you a playful smirk as he reaches you, hand still resting on the top of the very excited Mac’s head as he does circles around his master’s legs. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble good naturedly, the repetitive teasing making you hide a smile, as you reach into the backpack and toss him a set of clothes. “Just put your clothes on.” 

He grins, but does as he’s told, swiftly pulling the hoodie over his head and then the sweat pants, the toned muscles of his young, supple body disappearing beneath the fabric, as he reaches up to rustle a hand through his thick, dark hair. 

You have already retreated to the truck, with the heater full blasting, and opening the passenger door, Jungkook lets Mac hop into the middle seat, before he slides in himself, glancing over at you mischievously, as you shift into gear and begin to lurch the old truck out of the clearing. 

“What?” You question, glancing at him out of the side of your eye, as you push Mac down so you can see him better. You stick your tongue out at him, trying to keep your focus on the road. “Why are you staring at me, Jungkook?” 

He sighs dramatically, resting his cheek on the heel of his hand as he leans against the door, before he says, “Listen, baby. You look good enough to eat. Don’t get me wrong.” He flashes you a smug smile, as you roll your eyes. “However.” He reaches for the backpack and begins to dig through the remaining contents. “I’m starving. Did you bring any food?” 

You roll your eyes once more, and direct him to the granola bars. 

*******

The next month, things are far from normal. 

“What the hell were you thinking, (Y/N)?” Jungkook yells out, as soon as you park the truck and step foot into the clearing. 

Your hands go to your hips, and you suddenly feel defensive, as his looming, angry figure stalks you down, coming to a stop in front of you. 

“I was thinking-” You huff out, throwing his clothes at him angrily, as you take a step closer to him, fingers digging into your sides in a vain attempt to quell your frustration. “That you were in trouble!” 

“No, no.” He shakes his head furiously, his mop of dark hair appearing once more as he pulls the hoodie over his head, and his eyes meet yours, dark and swirling and stormy. You have never seen Jungkook look this angry before. “You thought the wolf was in trouble.” 

“Jungkook!” You throw your hands up into the air out of exasperation. “You are the wolf!” 

“No!” He barks out, stunning you into silence with the harshness of his tone, as Mac whimpers and cowers at your feet. “No.” He repeats again, softer this time, as he lets out a long breath through parted lips. “The wolf is a wild, unpredictable creature, (Y/N). It’s not me, and I’m not it. And I can’t guarantee it won’t hurt you.” 

The sudden fear that crosses Jungkook’s dark, wide eyes is enough to make your anger drain away, and you swallow hard, reaching up almost unconsciously to finger the silver cross hidden beneath your sweatshirt. 

His eyes follow the movement, and he reaches out, cupping your cold cheek in his hand, as he murmurs softly, fervently, “I need you to trust me on this, okay baby?” He reaches out to lay his free hand over your fingers, the cool silver of the cross pressed deeper into your skin at his touch. “I need to keep you safe. And this is the only way I can do that.” 

You watch him for a moment, and then sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry, Jungkook.” 

“Good.” He nods, before pulling you to him, enveloping you in the warmth of his arms and his broad chest that rests beneath your cheek, his heartbeat loud and steady in your ears. 

You fight with yourself for a moment, but then the words leave your mouth without control. “But, the howl I heard sounded like it was incredibly pained and I was worried and I left without thinking.....” 

Jungkook’s cheek is heavy as it rests on the top of your head, and his arms tighten around your waist at your words, and when he speaks, his voice is cool, “Baby, don’t worry about the wolf. It can take care of itself. Okay?” He pulls you back from him to make sure you nod in response, and then he says, tone slightly dangerous, “My only priority is your safety. And it always will be. You have my word.” 

*******

And then, the next night of the change, Jungkook is forced to prove his promise. 

You are awoken from sleep by the sound of Mac, barking loudly at the front door. 

“Mac!” You hiss between your teeth, as you pull a blanket around your shoulders and hurry down the hallway, bumping blindly into walls as you struggle to maneuver in the cabin in the blackness. 

You reach the front door, where the large dog is barking and growling, and your fingers connect with the leather of his collar, as you struggle to pull against his strength. 

“Mac! Stop it!” You berate in a whisper, trying-and failing-to pull the suddenly frenzied dog away from the door and whatever he hears outside. 

And then, in a lull between his loud barks, you hear what has startled him into such a state. 

Your hands go numb on his collar, and your efforts to quiet him stutter to a halt, as you hear the sound of wolves fighting-close by-and then-

That’s Jungkook’s howl. 

“Mac! Move!” You shriek out, suddenly finding strength to push the large animal to the side, as you fumble for the handle of the shotgun that hangs on the wall above the front door, and stumble against the handle, tumbling outside as the door opens suddenly. 

You realize, as the cold, frosty wood of the front porch hits your bare feet, that you haven’t bothered to put on shoes, or a coat, or even change out of the pjs you had put on the night before. 

None of that matters. 

Fingers chilling on the icy metal of the shotgun, your feet move of their own accord down the chilled front steps and onto the frost covered grass, as your hands, without thinking, begin to fumble in the dark to load and cock the shotgun. 

Your eyes-still hazed over from sleep-begin to focus, and you see the cause of the commotion, as Mac continues to bark from the landing of the cabin. 

Two large wolves-one black, one gray-are circling each other at the edge of the woods, teeth bared, saliva dripping, eyes flashing with rage and fury, as snarls erupt from their throats. 

The shotgun cocks into position, just as the gray wolf leaps onto the black, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a flurry of indiscernible claws and teeth and growls. 

“Shit.” You say under your breath, your voice shaky-whether from fear or cold- as your now numb fingers drop the shotgun down from your line of sight for a brief moment. “I can’t shoot. I’ll hit Jungkook.” 

The wolves break apart once more, and you notice, with a sudden pang, that the black wolf seems to be injured, limping heavily on one paw, dark, crimson blood weeping down an open wound in its shoulder. 

You could have tried to shoot then, you should have, and yet, every fiber in your body-at the sight of Jungkook’s blood-went into a sort of primal rage, and without thinking, you were dropping the shotgun into the grass and sprinting toward the fighting wolves with bare feet. 

“No! Stop!” You yell out, as you barrel in between the two of them, and stand in front of the injured wolf, arms outstretched like some sort of pathetic, protective shield, as your chest heaves, and you stare into the yellow, swirling eyes of the gray wolf standing before you. 

It snarls, sharp teeth flashing past red gums-reddened from Jungkook’s blood-and you swallow hard, but stand your ground. 

You don’t dare take your eyes off the opposing wolf to look at Jungkook behind you, scared that if you do so, it’ll make a move and you’ll both be taken down. 

The gray wolf growls, low under its breath, and you wave your arms once more, exclaiming loudly, trying to keep the trembling from your words, “Get out of here! Leave us alone! Go!” 

You feel as if it’s an eternity-looking into the yellow, slit eyes of the huge wolf-but finally, it flashes it’s teeth once more, and then turns on it’s heel, trotting off and disappearing into the darkness of the woods. 

You wait a good five minutes, just to make sure it’s really gone, and then taking in a deep breath, you turn to look at the black wolf standing behind you. 

The wolf-teeth still out and hackles raised-lets out a low growl as you turn to face it, and you hold out a hand, frozen in spot, as you say in a low tone, “Jungkook. It’s me. Let me help you.” 

The wolf takes a step back as you take a step toward it, and suddenly, the silver cross you always wear seems to be ice against your skin. 

Reaching for the chain, not even bothering to unclasp it, you rip the necklace from around your neck as the wolf watches you warily, and holding it up for Jungkook to see, you toss it into the woods. 

You take another step toward him, and this time, he does not step away. 

“Jungkook. I know you won’t hurt me.” You murmur carefully, crouching down, as you hold out your spread fingers in his direction. “You’re hurt. Let me help you. Please.” 

The wolf cocks it’s head and stares at you intently with dark eyes-so much like Jungkook’s-and its teeth recede behind closed lips as its nose twitches to sniff the air. 

“Please.” You repeat, shuffling a little closer, so close that you can feel the wolf’s warm exhales on your fingertips. “I know you’re in there, Jungkook. You wouldn’t hurt me.” You watch him carefully, as the two of you are frozen, inches apart from each other now. “You always promised to protect me. And that’s what you did. You protected me, Jungkook.” Your voice wobbles a bit. “And you got hurt keeping your promise. So please. Let me help.” 

There is a thick silence, and several more frozen moments, and then, the wolf noses into your outstretched palm. 

You feel as if you can breathe again. 

“I knew it was you, Jungkook.” You whisper, suddenly feeling tears in your throat, as your fingers feel his soft, thick winter coat beneath their touch. “Thank you for keeping your promise.” 

#bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan seonyandan #bulletproof boy scouts #beyond the scene #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fiction #bts drabble #drabble #spooky season #halloween #jeon jungkook #bts text #bts text post #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts scenario #purplearmynet #magicshopnet #werewolf jungkook #werewolf jeon jungkook #werewolf au #bts au

[clemonade1]

Silent Nights

Thank you @intangiblyyourswrites for the writing challenge. You’ve been so inspiring! Another inspiration I drew from was Chaucer. Props!

Prompt:

The real reason Zelda initially shows such a abhorrence to Link is because she’s secretly heads-over-heels for him and refuses to show it. Her pride is on the line, after all.

Rules:

Must be set in the BotW timeline

When it’s set is up to you (e.g. Pre-Calamity or post, pre-Blades of the Yiga or post)

No chronology enforced, but I’m interested to see if we can get a somewhat coherent story out of this!

You may do however many posts/drabbles you’d like

Tag #thirsty-and-in-denial-Zelda so we can find your story!

When other people looked at the silent knight, they drowned in the ocean of his eyes and tripped over each other just to get a taste of that salt spray. If they were unfortunate enough to meet him in combat the last thing they saw was that same ocean freeze over in molten ice as the distant echoes from his blade were all that remained marring their skin and assaulting their ears. But when Zelda looked at him she saw what everyone else failed to notice the tiny scar that made the smile lines threading away from his right eye step out as lightning staggers across the sky. This meant he had once been a person who smiled freely and lived a life outside of the sword, outside of his duties.

Outside of her.

She noticed how when the wind caught his hair just so, he had a freckle above his left brow that belied the days once spent in the sun no doubt climbing insane rock faces because, why not? Freedoms she had never known. Now he was boxed in by stale castle walls. Now he had to traipse around after her endlessly, ghost her every move, wear that infuriating stoic façade that meant everyone had someone to compare her and failures to.

“She doesn’t even care you know, I heard she doesn’t even pray, just locks herself in the Temple and plays on that Slate she’s got.”

“Haven’t you noticed how she stares at that guard of hers? I mean I wouldn’t mind worshipping him either but she’s supposed to be saving us all. Can’t see it happening myself, it’s all going to come down to him in the end.”

“Speaking of, did you see him sparring this morning? I had to fan myself down just from watching! Glad I’m not on the receiving end of that sword.”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind being on the receiving en-“

Every day. Every day she had to hear the gossip mongers tittering about in the halls, they’d even stopped hushing each other as they used to. Never mind the years of prayer and devotion she had shown to Hylia. And what did they mean that she stares at Link? They were clearly misinterpreting her furtive glares, she is a Princess. And princesses don’t ogle.

Not like them.

They didn’t notice how when he’d return to her chamber doors after his drills he raked his fingers through his unruly locks to try and break them in, they didn’t know how she’d love to be the one who-

Zelda rigidly snapped open the book she had clutched to her chest, inhaling the paper, dust and ink, the momentum of her thoughts abruptly halted. Here she was walking the smoothed out, well-worn stone hall to her chambers. Where others clutched at rosary beads, Zelda's lifeline was her books.

“Princess, are you well?”

Spine stiffening, her eyes merely rolled to glance over her shoulder, “I’m fine, in fact, I’d like to be left alone for the rest of the evening” A polite dismissal he did not deserve, not after the inconvenience he’s caused her since pulling that thrice damned sword from where it lay. An almost imperceptible bow of his head was all Zelda needed to resume her power walk back to her rooms. She needed as much space between them as possible. He was smothering her with his arrogance, and she needed to breathe.

Flinging open her balcony doors, her stiflingly hot room dissipating with the icy blast of outside. Zelda gently relinquished her book on Silent Princesses to her bedside table, her fingers curled ever so slightly to rasp against the cracked, worn cover. I want freckles, I want to not brush my hair for days. Freedom. I need freedom. A longing sigh, well beyond her years, hotly whipped over her lips. Kneeling next to her bed, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles turned white and her fingers reddened, eyes clenched shut as she felt the heat build behind them and a lump claw its way up her throat. As the tears spilled over onto her hands, she pleaded, “Please. Please help me this time, I’ll do anything if you’ll just show me what to do!” Of its own volition, her left hand shot out, wrenched her beloved book from where it innocuously lay and threw it as hard as she could against her oak door.

“Princess! Are you alright?” Came the voice of one of the other guards who must have replaced Link on duty after she had dismissed him.

“I’m fine, just, dropped something.” Her watery excuse sounded weak even to her, but the guard seemed to believe it as she once again fell  into the oppressive quiet of her chambers, her breath misting in front of her face, she crawled beneath her covers.

Kneeling in the frigid waters of the Spring of Wisdom, she recited her prayers to the Goddess through purple lips and teeth that clacked together. This time. This time I will hear her. Jerking her out of her quiet reverie came a voice seldom heard but one she’d never forget, not in a hundred years.

“What is better than wisdom, Zelda?”

Breath hitching, she froze, not from the cold. A hand, so impossibly warm, it singed her skin as it tilted her head up to meet a gaze that eclipsed the immense statue looming behind him.

“You. And what’s better than you?”

“Nothing” escaped her lungs in what could barely pass as a whisper.

Those eyes crinkled into a smile she’d never been graced with before. His hand moved to hers, inviting her to stand as he assumed her place, bent in worship.

“I have been looking for a place to worship; you put me on my knees every day. Let me worship you like the Goddess you are.”

Threading her hands into those wild locks, she gripped hard and oh, how wonderful it felt to have the control she so craved. Bending to meet his lips, his voice ghosted across her skin, hairs prickling, chills and warmth snaking down her spine all at once. “Just let go, Zelda.”

… “Princess. Princess. Wake up.”

Sandpaper eyes scratched open. Bolting upright, her skin aflame, breaths shallow, “What are YOU doing here?!” she hissed.

His gaze flickered to the ground, scratching the back of his head. She’d never seen him so, so uncomfortable, so vulnerable.

“I was out climbing. Your balcony doors were open. It’s a hazard. Not to mention how it’s absolutely freezing tonight. I-I came to close them but you were thrashing about. You seemed,” a deep flush spread across his cheeks, to the tips of his pointed ears, “distressed,” he finished, quietly, still unable to meet her gaze, unable to tell her it was his name she had mumbled as a mantra only moments ago.

“Link?” his eyes snapped to hers. She’d never addressed him by his name, though she liked the way it sounded rolling around her tongue. Her room suddenly felt altogether far too hot for anyone to inhabit; the lava of Eldin itself was surely raging beneath her floors.

“Get out.”

#zelda #thirsty-and-in-denial-zelda #my fic #legend of zelda

[seokoloqy]

good kitty | kth (m)

➳ PAIRING: hunter!taehyung x witch!reader ft. devil!hoseok

➳ GENRE: smut, pwp, ‘no rest for the wicked’ drabble

➳ WORD COUNT: 2k

➳ WARNINGS: LOTS-O-CURSING, fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, little bit of spanking, hair pulling, name-calling, orgasm denial, barely any hobi :(( sorry fellow hopeworldians this is a fumble on my part

➳ SUMMARY: you owned taehyung and the red collar around his neck proved it, but in bed, he’s the master and you’re just his obedient little slut.

➳ A/N: I feel like Tae is a little too rough but it could just be me so I dialed it down a bit haha but pls let me know what you think!!! + thanks @strawbxxymilk for giving me inspo to write this hehe this is unedited :(( sorry 

—

“Kitty, come here” you coo, gaze flickering to the black cat slinking into a corner, shielding itself from your eyes. The red collar fastened around its throat gleams as light reflects his tag with your name claiming him. It’s golden eyes turn to slits as it watches you with contempt for cursing him. But it wasn’t your fault he had tried to kill you—twice.

Your newest pet, a human turned obedient, docile house cat, used to be a witch hunter. Not a very good one, you assume, since you managed to turn him into one of your pets. Him and his friends needed to be taught a lesson about what happens to those who dare to try and kill you.

“Come here before I tighten that collar around your neck and force the air out of your lungs,” you hiss when the feline doesn’t budge. He watches you with the same vengeful eyes, refusing to lift a paw. “Hoseok, the cat is being stubborn.”

“Kill it.” The sudden appearance of your devilish companion startles the cat causing it to jump up and scurry away, disappearing into the dark hall.

Hoseok looks the same as the day you trapped him under your spell and made him yours. The mark you burned into his vessel’s flesh nearly a year ago remains intact.

You roll your eyes, snapping your fingers, listening as bones begin snapping and skin begins to stretch in the other room. The painful sound of a cats meow turns into the deep roar of a man.

“But I like this one, Hobi.”

Hoseok grimaces at your nickname, disappearing once again without replying. You’re not sure where he goes, but it doesn’t matter much. You know he’ll never find a way to release himself from your spell.

It’s amusing that he still tries.

You leave the kitchen to roam the hall, searching for your pet. Approaching the end where your bedroom is, you can hear the sound of items crashing to the ground, glass being shattered in a fit of rage.

“Kitty, you’re being a bad boy.” You push open the door, snapping your fingers to turn the lights on.

As light floods the destroyed room, only one person stands amongst all the shattered mirror and scattered miscellaneous items that used to rest on your vanity. Breathing heavily, your pet’s bare chest rises and falls as he stares at you with the same golden eyes.

You bite your lip, running your eyes down his toned body, absolutely bare.

“I’m not your kitty. My name is Taehyung.”

You chuckle, “but you are mine. That pretty little collar around your neck proves it.”

His hands moves to the red collar to unbuckle the straps. They don’t move no matter how hard he pulls and he lets out a frustrated groan.

“Good luck removing it, kitty, you’re bound to me.”

Taehyung, like the good hunter he is, reaches down to scoop up a big shard of broken glass and charges toward you. He grabs you roughly by the arm and forces the glass to your neck.

“Remove it,” he hisses,

“You think I’ll surrender that easily? I wouldn’t even make a deal with the devil and I definitely won’t with a fucking hunter,” you sneer, “so go ahead and kill me if you think that will free you.”

You don’t even flinch under his hardened gaze.

He slowly pulls the glass away from your neck, dropping it to the ground because it has no use to him anymore.

You’ve won.

—

“Mhm, Hoseok,” you mewl, grinding on his thick cock. You’ve been going slowly tonight, lazily riding him, distracted by the thought of your new kitten.

Taehyung. What a foolish hunter.

“It looks like someone wants to join,” Hoseok grunts, holding onto your hips to force you up and slam you back down when he decides you’re moving too slowly.

The way his cock hits your sweet spot has you moaning, forgetting the words Hoseok just said. It’s just pleasure that you feel as he rocks his hips into you.

“Don’t just stand there and gawk,” Hoseok says to your intruder.

You look over your shoulder to find Taehyung, gold tag glinting in the low light, cock half hard and jaw hung open. He licks his lips, trying to tear his gaze away, but he can’t. The enticing roll of your hips and your sultry gaze lure him beyond the threshold.

The devil and one of the most powerful witches. The hunter in him must be dying for a chance to kill you both while you’re so close.

“Oh, kitty,” you purr, biting down on your lip. “Do you want to watch? I’ll put on a good show for you, baby.”

“I want to do more than watch,” Taehyung's gruff voice takes you by surprise.

Hoseok chuckles, hand climbing from your waist to your breast, fondling and rolling his thumb over a hardened bud. You hum, running your hand through Hoseok’s soft dark hair, pretending to think about letting Taehyung join. You don’t need to think. You want him to join.

“Do you mind sharing me, Hobi?” You question sweetly, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pressing kisses to his neck.

“I’m so used to having you all to myself. I don’t know if I like someone else pleasing you,” he teases, eyes wandering over your shoulder to Taehyung. “But I feel whatever you feel so it would be like he’s pleasing the both of us.”

Hoseok eases you off him and you mewl as each inch leaves your dripping core.

“I’ll be back, you two have fun,” he winks.

“What?” Before Hoseok answers your question he disappears and you’re left alone with a feral hunter. You don’t know what he meant by ‘I’ll be back’. What was he going to do?

You turn around to find Taehyung already at the edge of the bed.

“Lay down,” he hisses, fingers clawing into the skin on your thighs. The burn feels too good and you grin. Your hot skin relishes the relief provided by the cool sheets as you comply to his orders.

“That’s no way to speak to your master, kitty,” you purr, fingers rising to the red collar around his throat to flick the shining golden tag with your name on it, claiming him. As the tag sways back and forth it glimmers underneath the light.

Tarhyung’s features turn into a snarl, he sneers, “master? When you’re beneath me and screaming around my cock I’m the master. Got it, bitch?”

You bite your lip to hide a growing smirk.

At the end of the day, he knows his role, who really owns who. The master and her pretty, obedient little bitch. Taehyung is yours.

“Yes, master,” you say sweetly, hints of sarcasm bleeding through your innocent facade. “I’m just your slut.”

Taehyung grunts, satisfied with your response. “That’s a good girl.”

He spreads your legs to get a look at your swollen cunt, licking his lips at the sight of arousal leaking out. One finger runs across your slit, coating the tip in wetness before plunging into your walls suddenly.

Taehyung fingers your greedy cunt, watching in fascination as it clenches around his single digit. “Look at your pretty pussy sucking in my finger.”

Obscene noises fill the room as your moans mixed with the wetness of Taehyung’s finger continuously fucking you.

“You want me to fill you up with my cock?” Taehyung adds a second finger, scissoring your walls. Your fingers dig into the sheets as your back arches, a breath escapes you while his fingers move at an inhuman pace. “I’m gonna fuck this tight cunt and turn you into my obedient bitch.”

“Mhm, y-yes, fuck me good,” you moan, allowing your eyes to fall shut. His fingers keep up the brutal pace. Your eyes flutter, feeling each digit around your velvet walls. “I want your cock.”

“Beg me for it, slut,” Taehyung growls, bringing his unoccupied hand to the roots of your hair and yanking your head up to his snarling lips. “I wanna hear you cry.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, scalp burning as his fingers lace tighter, wetness beginning to pool in your eyes. “P-please, I need it.”

Taehyung tsks removing his fingers from your cunt to deliver a sharp blow onto it instead. The strike lands on your clit causing you to jolt forward and hiss.

“You call that begging, you stupid bitch?”

He throws your head back, grabbing your hips and flipping your over. He pulls your ass up, putting it on display for his predatory eyes. Your back is arched and face pressed against the sheets. You can feel your wetness dripping down your thighs

“I’ll teach you how to beg properly.”

His first strike comes down hard and you let out a surprised yelp.

“Count them,” he barks.

“O-One,” you whine.

He delivers five more punishing blows to your ass. More tears form in your eyes with each count.

“Seven,” you groan.

“Did you learn your lesson yet?”

“Yes,” you sob, fingers curling tighter around the bedsheets. “P-Please, master, I-I want your cock so badly. I need you—fuck—I need you now.”

You hear the sound of Taehyung’s pants unbuckling, relief flooding your aching body. When he presses the tip of his weeping cock to your entrance you can already tell he’s thick, thicker than Hoseok. The anticipated stretch already makes you sting.

“I’m gonna fuck you now and you’re not gonna cum until I say you can, got that?”

You’re too lost in the pressure of his cock pressing against your lips, you don’t answer, not until his hand knots in your hair and pulls your head up. You cry out from the burn on your scalp.

“I ask you a question, slut. Did you fucking understand it?”

“Yes! I won’t cum until you say so!”

“Good,” is all he says before releasing your hair and ramming his girth into your tight cunt.

“Ah, fuck!” You sob.

Taehyung doesn’t even give you the chance to adjust, thrusting in and out of you at an animalistic pace. You can feel yourself being stretch more than you ever have with Hoseok. You hold onto the bed, afraid you’ll fall off the faster and deeper he goes.

Already, you can feel yourself wanting to come. You desperately need to with each thrust.

“I-I want to cum! Please, m-master, I need to!”

“Did I…did I say you could?” He pants, gripping your hips to take control of you.

“N-no,” you cry, face twisting against your pillow as you rub your tears away.

“Didn’t fucking think so.”

You endure all that he gives you, panting and screaming around him. Your walls clench, you can feel your abdomen tightening, coiling.

“Poor slut wants to cum, doesn’t she?” He taunts, hand coming down to your clit. You cry out, overly sensitive and this just pushes you closer to the edge. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes! Yes, p-please,” you hiccup, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

You can tell Taehyung is almost there too, the way his thrusts become sloppy, the grip on your hips tighten until his nails claw into your skin, and his breathy pants become louder.

“Then cum,” is all he says and you do. You release all over his cock, finally relieved and trembling. Toes curl and for the first time you scream his name.

The feeling of your walls clenching sporadically around him makes him cum quickly after you. He curses, stilling his hips and letting you milk his cock.

He pulls out of you, a mixture of both your cum leaking out of your wrecked hole. He looks on in amusement at your ruined state, chest heaving and hair mused from all the pulling.

You’re barely able to move your body, too sore and fucked out to begin a proper sentence. Taehyung may begin to like it here after all.

You collapse onto the bed, every part of you aches, traces of his touch burned into your skin.

“Looks like you two finished before I could get back.” You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Hoseok. “I hope you’re up for round two.”

#bts #bts smut #taehyung smut #btssmutclub #smutcentralnet #thekimlinenet #bangtanarmynet #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfiction

[soheila-1996]

My story-  part seven

My little disclaimer:

I have epilepsy. This details my seizures, I can’t speak for everyone, everyone’s seizures/ experiences are different. This is graphic. Seizures are messy. They aren’t fun and it felt wrong to make it out to be cute when they really aren’t.   Pretty much all the things that happen in the plot have happened to me. Well, I’m not married to a king or live in a palace so…there’s that but everything else is accurate.  There may be some jokes about it here because I do joke about it sometimes. It makes me more comfortable and I find it helps relax everyone around me. I’m also writing about it because there really aren’t that many fics written about it and I think it’s important to shine light on it.

Any feedback is really appreciated! :)

Tagging people who shared the last  part. You don’t have to read it! I just thought you might want to see what happens: @kacie-0156, @texaskitten30, @cordonianroyalty, @kingliam2019, @bebepac, @kingliam-rys, @cordonia-gothqueen, @kimmiedoo5, @bbrandy2002, @loveellamae  @bobasheebaby @losingbraincellseveryday  @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jared2612 @flutistbyday2020 @debramcg1106 @anotherbeingsworld @leaharhys @cordoniaqueensworld @bascmve01

This is also part of wacky drabbles hosted by @emceesynonymroll. The prompt this week is: #42: Let's be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen.

Paring: Liam and Riley

Warnings: hospital setting, mention of miscarriage, blood. 

Word count: 2535 

Catch up here

(Liam’s POV)

I can’t do this. 

I can’t lose her. 

All the worst case scenarios are going through my head as my wife continues to seize on our bedroom floor. We’re coming on nearly seven minutes now and she’s not showing any sign that this is going to stop on it’s own. I know by now that we’ve gone over the five minute mark that the seizure stopping by itself isn’t likely. 

I wish in a way I hadn’t done so much research on epilepsy when I found out because I know about all things that can go wrong. I know that this is now Status Epilepticus and I know about the long term effects that this could possibly have on her if the seizure isn't stopped quickly. 

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Karol places a comforting hand on my shoulder. It’s then I notice i’m crying, I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. 

“They’re on the way,” She said reassuringly, “She’s going to be okay.” 

I nodded as I attempted to gather myself, sniffling and wiping my tears away. I looked down at her as my eyes welled up again.  “You’re going to be okay,” I spoke to her softly, “I love you so much Riley.” 

I looked down at the timer: 7:17. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”  It’s like I’m unravelling into a complete, giant emotional mess. I’m unable to stop the tears from flowing. 

A minute felt like an hour to me right now- it always did while she was having a seizure. Her movement’s  started to become a little less violent and I couldn’t help but hope she was starting to come out of it. That It really was going to be alright. 

“I think she might be coming out of it,” Karol said hopefully through her own tears. I can’t imagine how Riley’s parents are feeling. I’m her husband and It kills me everytime, I can’t imagine how I'd feel in their shoes. 

“Good,” Micheal nodded. He came back into the room and knelt down beside Karol. 

We were all wrong. The seizure just kept going. Her movements were a little bit more subdued than before but it wasn’t stopping. I just kept running, put fingers through her hair and pushed it out of her face. 

Some blood started to trickle out from the corner of her mouth. I used my sleeve to wipe it away. 

“You’re doing so good Love ,” I cooed, “It’ll be over soon.” 

It was a minute later when we heard someone “Paramedics!” to announce themselves as they opened the door. 

“In here!” Micheal called. We heard footsteps and rustling of bags as they made their way through the apartment to us. 

The paramedics entered my bedroom followed by Bastien. 

“How long has she been down?”  One of the paramedics asked no one in particular. I’m too focused on Riley to actually pay any attention to what they’re doing. 

Karol looked down at the timer: 9:54: “Nearly ten minutes,” she answered. Karol and Michael moved out of the way to give the medics some space to kneel beside us. 

One of the women made quick work of setting up and IV as the other prepared some medication. 

“This is a medication that will help stop the seizure,” the one explained. 

She administered the drug and seconds later the seizure came to a halt. I ran my fingers through her hair.  “There you go, Love,” I whispered to her, “There you go.”

“It’s normal for her to sleep a little now from the medication, okay?” She explained. I nodded as her partner started taking her vitals. 

The woman that had given Riley the drug turned to me and gave me a small, reassuring smile, “I’m Jenny by the way,” She explained, turning to the other woman, “That’s Christine.” 

I nodded and gave them a small smile in return. “Does she have epilepsy?” Jenny asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” she nodded, “Do you have any idea what led up to this.” 

I sniffled and cleared my throat, “She hasn’t been taking her medication.” 

“Okay, I think it’s important to take her to the hospital because of that and the length of the seizure, especially now that I’ve given her the drug as well.” I nodded in understanding. The way she had explained it though had calmed my nerves ever so slightly. 

“Okay,”  I replied.  I just want her to be okay- that’s all I want and I would do anything in my  power to make sure of that. 

They make quick work of getting Riley onto a stretcher. “We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Karol told me.

“Alright.” Riley is then quickly loaded into the back of the ambulance with Jenny and I in the back with her. 

Jenny asks me a few questions about her medical history as we began the journey to the hospital. 

She rechecks her assessment as my gaze stays fixed on Riley. 

“Are you okay?” she asked me sweetly, breaking the silence. 

I don’t really want to talk about myself right now. I’m too focussed on my wife but answer it anyway with a nod. She gives me a small smile. “I know how scary that must’ve been but she’s doing really well now.”

“Good,” I nodded. I turn back to Riley and see her eyes are starting to move behind their lids which Jenny soon notices too. 

“The medication I gave her is also a sedative, so she’ll be pretty weak for a while.” Her eyes start to move a little bit more before fluttering open.

(Riley’s POV) 

I open my eyes and all my vision consists of  is black splotches. There’s a dull ringing in my ears too. 

Where am I? 

Whatever I’m laying on isn't very comfortable and there’s something over my mouth and nose too. It feels like it’s trying to suffocate me. 

I’m trying to move my arm to remove the device but I can’t...why can’t I move? It’s almost like I’m magnetized to whatever I’m laying on . 

Where the fuck am I? 

I manage to move my head to lay flat on whatever is beneath me and a metal ceiling comes into focus. What is this place? 

I’m not able to keep my head in that position and let it fall limply to the side, like how the rest of my body is laying. 

Why am I so tired? 

I want to look  around me to try and make sense of it all but I can’t. I’m too exhausted to move. I’m so confused that I just want to burst into tears. 

I don’t understand what’s happening.

It feels like I’m moving…? 

“I don’t…”

He stroked my cheek. “I know. Your seizure was a little bit too long and I needed to make sure you were alright, okay? It’s okay, you don’t need to be scared.” 

Liam glanced away  from me to look at something behind me. I try to turn around but again, I can’t. Someone moves into my line of vision- a woman. Her hands are purple- no, it’s gloves, I think. She’s wearing a uniform and that makes me slightly scared. 

“Hi, Riley. I’m Jenny, I’m a paramedic.” 

“Ambulance?” I  asked groggily. Liam’s earlier explanation had kind of gone over my head. 

“We’re in an ambulance, that’s right,” she confirmed. 

My eyes feel heavy. “M tired.” 

“That’s okay,” she nodded, “I had to give you some medication to stop your seizure, okay? It’s meant to make you feel sleepy.” 

I give her a small nod as my eyes start to close.

What’s going on? 

I want a sign that I’m safe but there isn’t one. 

The more I try to look around and realise I can't, the more panicked, scared and confused I become. I let out a whimper- muffled by the device on my face. 

I want Liam. 

“Li,” I try to say, I can feel my eyes start to well up. Something comes into my field of vision but it takes me a little while to be able to decipher what the new object is. 

I hadn’t realised that I couldn’t hear properly but now I can at the same time i realise the thing above me is  a person  and that person has a face. I stare up at the person above me intently.

“I’m here. It’s alright,” the figure said, “I know that you’re scared and confused but you’re okay.”

I’m still trying to figure out who it is. The person’s face isn’t fully in focus yet and my hearing still isn't back to normal. 

“It’s Liam,” The figure told me. My vision starts to sharpen. I recognize that voice. That face. It really is Liam. 

“Li,” I say through a sob. I really don't understand what’s happening. I’m scared. I’m really scared. 

“It’s okay, You’re okay,” he said quickly to calm me down but it doesn't work. I felt something squeeze my hand, I just don’t have the energy to look at what has just grasped it.  “I’m right here, everything is okay,” he said, My hand is squeezed gently and I realised it must be Liam that’s touching it. 

“I’m tired,” I muttered. Talking makes the device on my face steam up. 

“You had a seizure,” he told me, “but you’re okay now.”

"Where am I?” I ask in a slurred voice. 

“We’re in an ambulance.” 

I don’t want to be here! 

This news makes me panic as I try to get my body to comply with my demands, I'm too exhausted to think. I just don’t have the energy and choose to relax instead.

(Liam’s POV) 

Riley slept  for the rest of the journey to the hospital and while she’s unloaded from the ambulance and rolled into a room once we arrive. The new medical team is nice- efficient. They try to keep the situation light but I know that they’re also alarmed by the length of Riley’s seizure.   

I’m just happy- elated that she's alive. It could’ve gone so very differently. This reminds me of when she aspirated a few weeks ago, All i know right now is that i never want to come this close to losing her ever again. 

I don’t think I could survive without her. She is everything to me. She’s my best friend. 

Once they had her stabilized with labs drawn and some new medication in,  I sat next to her bed as she slept. 

I’ve never been so scared in my life. 

I don’t think I can explain how much I love her with words. There aren’t  any words that have been invented that can describe the love that I have for her. 

Today broke my heart. 

I can’t lose her.

(Karol’s POV) - 

Micheal and I are sitting in the waiting room, Riley was stable now, they had managed to stop her seizures and Liam was with her. We’d just spoken with her doctor and decided to let Liam be with her for a little bit. As much as I wanted to go to my little girl, she needed her husband more right now. 

 My husband is sitting down and I’m continuing to pace.  “Let's be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen,” I told my husband, “We should’ve been here. We should’ve been able to stop this.” 

“Karol, we didn’t know. Riley- she’s not a kid anymore-” 

“That doesn't mean that it’s not our job to protect her,” I interrupted, “She’s still our little girl, Mike.” 

“Come and sit down, “ he told me as he patted the seat next to him. I sighed and plopped, reluctantly down beside him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “All that matters is that she’s going to be okay, K. That’s all that matters right now.” 

“What if she’s not?” 

“The doctor said-” 

“I know she’ll recover from this. She got incredibly lucky but...she’s hurting. She’s blaming herself for something that she had no control over and I...What if this happens again? You know what Liam told us she was thinking about...I-I can’t lose her, Mike, I can’t.” I tried to hold in a sob but I couldn't. Just the thought of losing one of my children is indescribable. They all mean the world to me. I love them all so, so much. They’re all my babies but Riley is my youngest, she’s my little girl and I can’t imagine my life without her.

(Riley’s POV) 

My mouth feels dry and sore as I open my eyes. 

I’m not in my bedroom... 

Where am I? 

The last thing I remember is seeing my parents then heading back to bed.  I look around the dimly lit room, my eyes lading on the window and the darkness behind it- How is it night already? 

Why am I in the hospital? 

I looked to my side and saw Liam there. “Hey,” he said softly. 

“Where…?” 

“You’re in the hospital. You had a seizure that was a little bit too long.” I go to try and rub at my tired eyes but my movements  are restricted by the IV in my arm . “How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty shitty,” I replied honestly. My voice raspy. I gesture to the glass of water on the side. Liam quickly grabs it and helps to position the straw by my lips. 

I take a few sips and let Liam place the glass back down. I realise that it’s fairly quiet for a hospital, other than the beeping from my monitor and the sound of the blood pressure cuff  self-inflating periodically. 

I look back up to look at Liam and realise his eyes are red- rimmed and still a little puffy. 

It’s weird how the mind works. Somehow seeing Liam upset and knowing I’ve caused it makes me think that I deserve this more. I don’t even understand my own logic but it makes some sort of sense right now. 

I know I haven't been thinking rationally for a while but I’ve dug myself such a deep hole that I no longer care. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracks slightly. It feels like the knife in my chest twists to cause another wave of agony. I hate myself for hurting him. He’s the best husband you could ask for and yet I keep causing him pain. 

He sniffles and reaches for my hand. He places a light kiss along my knuckles. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you,” I mumbled, my own voice trembling. 

“We’re going to get through this together, okay?” 

“Okay.”

#my story #wacky drabbles #tw: seizure #talk or pregnancy loss #hospital #tw blood #riley brooks #liam and riley #trr #the royal romance #epilepsy #choices #trr liam #trr riley

[hispeculiartreasure]

Baby Steps | S.R.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Rating: Everyone

Word count: 803

Warnings: None.

AN: It’s been a while since I’ve written, but it felt good to finish a piece at the top of the New Year, even if it’s just a drabble. After a warm conversation with a friend about the idea of Steve being domestic and making homemade bread, this came to mind. It’s a companion piece to this drabble I wrote a few months ago. At this moment, AWGIT is still on hiatus.

My Masterlist

Another night, another nettling 3am wake-up sponsored by your parched throat. You’d spent half a moment rethinking your grossly over-sized nightshirt and fuzzy socks before deciding if anyone else was awake they had no right to judge your sleepwear.

You’re padding down the hallway near the kitchen, rubbing your sleep-crusted eyes when you hear it.

Thump.

Freezing mid-step, you listen more intently.

Thump.

You relax into your step. It’s not a particularly brutal noise; there’s a softness in both the sound and the action.

Thump.

Poking your head around the kitchen corner, you find a pleasantly surprising sight.

The dim bulb above the oven is the only source of light in the room, casting a tall, golden silhouette across the cabinets.

Thump.

Black tank top taut across his chest, Steve hovers over a flour-covered counter. His pajama pants look like they’d been ironed - you wouldn’t put it past him - but he was unruffled. You’d bet $10 he hadn’t been in his bed at all tonight.

Thump.

A white puff ascends to the heavens before Steve’s shoulder muscles begin to work again. Dexterous fingers press into a mound of dough, beckoning gluten to develop with every roll across the cutting board. Apparently satisfied with his progress he carefully gathers the dough into a ball and places it into a bowl on top of the preheated stove, covering it with a thin towel.

A deep sigh forces itself from his lips, palms come to rest against the counter top. His gaze fixes on the oven clock; with the thousand-yard-stare he could be anywhere in the world or simply lamenting the hour of the night. It was anyone’s guess.

You shuffle across the threshold to alert him of your presence. He raises his head, unsurprised.

“I know you’re a morning person, but breakfast at this hour is a little extreme, even for you.” To your own ears, your voice feels like nails on a chalkboard invading the near-holy solitude.

But he doesn’t seem perturbed, quite the opposite - you get a small smile from him.

Grabbing the towel hanging over his shoulder, he wipes away flour and flecks of dough from his hands as he speaks. “Sam gave me his mom’s recipe book to try some family favorites.” He taps a well-loved book next to the rising dough.

You raise an eyebrow. “And what’s due to the sudden interest in- what is that, brioche?”

“It is - my. . . therapist suggested I find a new way to express myself creatively.”

“And?”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Well, you can’t eat a drawing so I definitely call this a step up.”

A corner of his mouth turns up. “Of course you do,” he says softly.

You take a moment to get a good look at your friend as he washes his measuring cups and bowls. He seems tired, but not nearly as wan as he had been a few months ago that night you’d confronted him about his mental health.

Some way, somehow, your words had gotten through that thick skull and hard heart of his. With guidance from Sam and the VA (and some trial and error), he’d finally found someone he felt comfortable speaking with. He’d come home from therapy appointments angry enough to shake the building with his slammed doors more than once. But progress was being made, however small.

You should stay out of it, keep quiet. Let him heal on his own. Continue as a casual observer.

But you’d never been good at staying out of Steve’s things.

“How you feeling?”

The towel returns to his shoulder. “Better.”

“Better is good.”

“It’s not fun. But it’s good.”

“You know I know better than anyone the pains of therapy,” you chuckle. “But baby steps forward are still steps forward.”

Steve nods his agreement.

Several seconds tick by as you consider your next words. “I’m proud of you.”

His eyes shift down and he hums low.

The silence stretches to a point that spurs you to carry out your original mission.

You fill a cup with cool water, taking a sip as you pass behind Steve. Without much thought you rub a patch of flour from his cheek.

Several steps across the kitchen he clears his throat. Then you hear a quiet, “Never would’ve done it without you kicking my ass into gear.”

Of their own volition, your feet stop. A shiver travels down your spine. Why were you so tempted to cry? It was a simple enough admission. Though an intimate one. One that had an underlying thank you.

There was so much you wanted to say, things you had kept locked in your heart over the months, over the years of knowing him. Fighting every instinct you have not to throw yourself into his arms, you look over your shoulder and say -

“You can thank me in ciabatta.”

-x-

Tags

@abovethesmokestacks @ursulaismymiddlename @sarcasm-ing​ @hiddles-rose​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @palaiasaurus64​ @fanfic-diaries​ @majesticavenger​ @cake-writes​ @youclickedthislink​

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

[gayrhya]

“ I don’t like people, but you’re an exception.”

Here’s a short Silas x Rhya drabble i did. I’m too ashamed to put it in the tags but..... I have a longer, more angsty one i need to edit before posting

“Looks like you had a bad day.” Rhya noted while lounging on the couch. Silas had been home for about 40 minutes and had barely acknowledged him, though he was on and off napping the whole time.

Silas let out a grunt in response from their workspace, looking over an old, large book and tinkering with tools. Rhya was a bit annoyed with their lack of attention, but he figured the day must had been really bad for Silas to be acting like this.

Rhya stood up from his napping spot and stretched his joints.

“Do you want to talk about it all?” He yawned and lazily made his way towards Silas’ workbench and took a seat next to them. Silas tinkered for a few seconds more before sighing, setting the tools down.

“I really do hate our system of government. I maybe a noble myself but most of the nobility class in the Clover Kingdom is just insufferable. I guess I was no different before, but I still had disadvantages due to my family’s status. It’s gotten worse in the past few months with...your involvement.” Silas vented, staring down at the magic item they had been working on. Rhya leaned against the table on his elbow, listening to them speak.

“I’m causing you more trouble than what I’m worth.” Rhya spoke sadly. And that snapped Silas out of their daze.

“Don’t say that. I don’t like people, but you’re an exception. If I have to spend all day with stuffy nobles a couple of times a month but get to spend my life with you. It’s worth it.” Silas mumbled softly, taking Rhya’s hand both of their own. They gently kissed his hand with a slight smile.

Rhya blinked in surprise and could feel himself starting to become flustered. Silas’ had only caught him off guard a few times, and this was one of those rare moments. He normally tried to play off as being coy and unaffected, but hearing Silas say something that him touched him deeply.

He must have spaced out for a few seconds because Silas was looking up at him with concern. Before they could speak Rhya quickly pulled them into a tight hug, resting his head in the crook of Silas’  neck.

“I love you.” He croaked, blinking back tears. And it was Silas’ turn to be a shocked. They wrapped their arms around him and gently stroked his hair. Rhya talked little about his own past, but Silas understood he had gone through great suffering and needed time in order to be more open about it. So Silas held him tight until his breathing calmed itself. After a few minutes Rhya slowly lifted his head to look at them: his eyes were slightly red but he had a small smile on his face. Silas moved to cup his face with both their hands and they gave him a quick kiss

“I love you too. I’m not going away anytime soon, you idiot.”

#ren yaps ⚔️ #ev writes #ren writes

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

First lines meme thingie

I was tagged by @mcfiddlestan, and I rarely ever get tagged for things.  So here goes.  

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

10. WIP: From Chapter 5 of Mission (Part 2, of Hemispheres): 

"Oh.  You're back, Stark."  

Tony stepped up to the cell just as Loki's honeyed voice greeted him from the darkness.  Behind him, Fandral continued to use what Frigga had given him – more daylily, it seemed – to keep the guards befuddled and forgetful about their presence.

"I am, Bambi.  And I see...well, hear...you're still awake.  Which is good.  I'd hate to think I was disturbing your sleep," Tony retorted, the corner of his mouth quirking into that smile that let anyone know he was amused, especially with himself.  

Tony had actually fallen asleep after navigating his way back to his room and crawling into the orgy-bed.  It was Fandral's voice hovering right over him, followed by a hand shaking him that had jolted him from sleep.  He couldn't be mad, though.  After all, here he was again, in Loki's presence.  

Even if he couldn't see him yet.  

As that thought entered Tony's mind, a candle silently illuminated the cell, and Loki sat on the edge of the narrow bed, dressed for sleep, his hair down around his face but not tousled yet to indicate any sleep.  Those stunning green eyes pierced through the glass to stare into Tony's.  

9. From Chapter 1 of Mission; “A spirit with a vision (Is a dream with a mission)”; (Part 2 of Hemispheres): 

"Tony, this is madness."

Tony finished his third cup of coffee and poured another for himself.  He turned to offer Thor a refill, but the God of Thunder covered the top of his ginormous mug with his hand to politely refuse.  Buzzing from the caffeine and distracted for length of a cicada's wing-flutter, Tony tried to remember which one of them had taught Thor to be polite about coffee.

"It's not madness, Thor.  I've just...had time to think about it, and...Loki should be here.  Not...wherever you put him," he hedged and tried to meet Thor's eyes.

"He threw you through the window of your own home.  He wrecked your city.  He killed..."

Setting the carafe back on its hot plate a little rougher than he'd intended, Tony took the three wide steps it took to land him right in Thor's space, and he glared up at him.

"And how many have you killed, Hammer Time?  You're the actual warrior, so how much blood do you have on your hands?  How much innocent blood, at that?"

Thor was taken aback by the acrimony in Tony's tone, the way those dark eyes flashed with a red-hot forge fire that burned the breath between them.  He lifted his cup between them, took a drink of what remained in it then set it down again.  He never took a step back or tried to push Tony away.

"That is not a discussion we're going to have, Tony.  You're upset with me, and I cannot fathom why," he told his friend, a hint of warning to his voice.  "The last I knew, you were glad to see my brother returned to Asgard for punishment.  You have nightmares..."

Tony stepped back of his own volition and waved a hand to dismiss the last thing Thor mentioned.

"You don't know anything about my nightmares.  They have nothing to do with your brother."  When Thor gave him a questioning eyebrow raise, Tony poked a finger into his chest.  "They don't.  Compared to what I saw in that wormhole, Loki was just a pissed off kitten."

8. From Part 1 of Hemispheres; Far away you were made in a sea just like me: 

It was the gray light that gently tugged him from sleep.

Tony squinted, and at first, he wanted to grouse and tell the cloudy morning to go fuck itself; he wasn't ready to wake up.  Especially when a warm body spooned against his, a creamy-skinned arm draped over his side, and the hand that belonged to it cupped his belly.  That was enough to make him smile and close his eyes again, his own hand slipping away from where it rested between his cheek and pillow to settle on that other hand.

This must not be one of his many flings that he picked up at a bar or conference because he felt no need to get out of bed and begin the Ritual of Escape.  He didn't have the urge to run and leave Pepper to 'take out the trash', as she so often explained it.

Wait.  Is that Pepper behind me?

Tony caressed the knuckles of the hand on his stomach, and while the hand was fine-boned and nimble, it was certainly not the hand of a woman.

Definitely not Pepper's.

Still, that body felt so good against his back; not bed-warm the way he would've expected.  It was cooler than most bodies, though not uncomfortably so, and Tony snuggled back against it all the same, feeling this lover's arm tighten against him.

He said fuck it to the outside world and responsibilities again, ready to drift off.  Ready to ignore the meetings lined up for him, the half a dozen projects in his lab, and the business luncheon he no doubtedly was supposed to attend that was Incredibly Important to Stark Industries.

"Mmm, if you keep squirming against me like that, ástin mín, you're not going to make that breakfast meeting you're supposed to be at in..."  Loki lifted his head to squint at the projected clock on Tony's nightstand.  "...an hour," he finished and took that moment to snuggle back down against Tony's back, rubbing his smooth cheek along that naked shoulder.

7. From Ghost of a Chance, a Steve/Bucky/Peggy prompt drabble.

December 1943; London, England

Scratchy tunes faded in and out from the radio in the training facility.  Bucky's eyes focused on the two men in the makeshift boxing ring, working in some training while the remains of the 107th continued to enjoy their break from combat.

Eventually, they'd have to get back in the fight.

Eventually, they'd follow the golden blond leader who barely matched the image Bucky went into combat with seared into his mind.

Eventually, he'd be chasing after Steve like he always did, but this time, they'd be equals against the mutual enemy.

Steve didn't even need him anymore, did he?

So, what the hell was Bucky supposed to do with himself anymore if Steve didn't need him?

"He's pretty amazing to watch, isn't he, Sargent Barnes?"

Bucky glanced over to see the pretty brunette whose heart Steve had managed to snag.  All on his own, too.  Bucky hadn't needed to set up a blind date or anything with this one.  He huffed and shrugged a shoulder.

6. From Behind Blue Eyes, Emma Frost/Loki.  With several twists.

Emma hissed as the cup burned her bottom lip, and she set it down with a scowl.  Yes, she’d wanted hot tea, but she hadn’t needed it to come out boiling or to bring back the moral condemnation that still echoed in her memories.  If Robert were here, she’d ask him to cool it down for her, but he wasn’t.  She knew what was in his thoughts, and she sincerely doubted that he would join her at a café for an afternoon drink.

Would any of them?

She almost laughed out loud to herself when she realized that one person who might was the one person who offered her some of the only comfort throughout the whole debacle.  Logan.  However, she was as aware as one of his claws punched through her chest that he was like the others, too busy wrapped up in a woman who could have prevented everything that had happened, if only she’d been thinking with her head and not jealous little heart of hers.

And everyone thought Emma was the ice queen.

5. From Supernaut; Eventual Loki/Tony but Loki + Nebula; Infinity War/Endgame Divergent.

Whatever pieces of Loki were left in the wreckage of The Statesman were intact enough that healing from death...again...took only as long as Thanos' snap that ended half of all life across the known universe.

Ironically, Loki didn't die in the snap.

He'd been cold after Thor's body floated to...wherever it had once his unconsciousness pried him from the Trickster's corpse.  Loki distinctly remembered that from his place at the gates of Valhalla; that alone told him that his death had come as an honorable sacrifice, and only after kissing his mother and father goodbye – for now – because he'd left unfinished business behind, did he wake up without Thor as his blanket.  

Through whatever grace of the Norns that still existed, Loki stood on that piece of the ship that had held his dead body.  He studied the stars, charted the constellations, found himself staring at Lokabrenna with a smile as it guided him.  It was difficult to breathe as if Thanos' hand was still around his throat, and it was good he didn't need to speak words right away to summon the pieces of the ship around him, soldering it together with what magic he could bring immediately to his fingertips.  His windpipe and voice box had been crushed, and it would take days to heal them unless he dug deep into the secret supply of golden apples he'd stored away ages ago in a dimensional pocket.  Or unless Eir could come to his rescue, but he didn't know where she was.  She and several chests of those apples had been on the escape ship with Brunnhilde, Korg, and half of the Asgardians.

Loki hoped they'd found a safe course and stayed out of Thanos' reach.

4. From We Were Never Boy Scouts; Loki/Steve Rogers.

*

A frost giant and a once-frozen centenarian walk into a bar...

*

That's where the joke ends.  That bar isn't really a bar.  It's the middle of nowhere in the North Siberian Lowland, and there isn't a structure or building or person in sight.

"Golly, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Loki's eyes twinkle with mischief as he turns to see if his companion is as impressed by his Midgardian cultural reference as he is.

"I don't think we're anywhere near Yatutsk," Steve says.  He's braced his hands on his hips.  His breath forms ghosts.  The air bites his cheeks, nose, and ear-tips until they're red.  Loki's reference hasn't been missed by Steve, but he's not in the mood for a joke.  "I thought you could teleport us anywhere."

He closes his eyes.  Takes Thor's advice regarding a Midgardian calming trick by counting to ten.  Several deep breaths keep him from yelling at the good Captain.

"I can teleport us anywhere.  I did teleport us 'anywhere'.  But I'm not from Russia nor am I from your planet, so I can't get you to exact locations when I haven't been to them, especially not when they seem to be in the middle of Frost-Etin wastelands."

3. From A Warrior’s Wounds, a Kurt/Logan (Nightcrawler/Wolverine) ficlet part of a 130 prompt list, and the only one I actually managed to write.

In the near-two centuries since he’d been alive, Logan had been stabbed, sliced, gutted, burned, shot, survived grenades, canons, arrows, magic, inter-dimensional weaponry, Dracula’s bite, Sabertooth’s claws, Hulk’s smash, Black Widow’s knives, Cyclops’ eye-blast, Jean’s mind-punches, Hank eating his leg, Remy’s flying sparky cards, Rogue’s touch, Emma’s diamond slaps, Reed’s rubbery choke-holds, S.H.I.E.L.D removing his head, Mystique’s...everything, and sometimes, his own clumsiness.  

He’d endured just about every painful thing a body could endure.

And survived.

2. From Hey Jealousy, a Thor: Ragnarok ‘deleted scene’ short-fic; Loki and Bruce have a ‘conversation’ about Tony’s pants.

(skipping ahead from the first lines, which are replaying the canon lines from Ragnarok)

Before they split up to take care of their escape plans, Bruce tugs at the crotch of the pants again.

“How the hell does Tony wear these so tight?”

None of them notice the narrowed glare from Loki that could shoot magic daggers.

Instead, Loki changes his expression and speaks quietly, gently to the man who could rage-shift at any moment.

“Banner.”

The chains are off at last, and Thor’s busy staring at how much liquor Valkyrie keeps consuming.  Loki corners Bruce but in a not-as-threatening-as-it-could-be way.

“Just what are you doing in Anthony Stark’s trousers?”

Bruce stares up...and up...at Loki, his mouth quirks.  Eyes squint.

“What?” he asks, watching as Loki sheds the chains as easily as a snake sheds its skin.  “What does that even have to do with...”

Loki stares down into Bruce’s face, and there’s something in the Trickster’s eyes that gives away his disappointment.  His jealousy.

“What are you doing in Stark’s trousers, Banner?  Are you two...together now?  A...couple?”

1. From Sunset, an Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. ficlet during the Framework season of the series when the Framework is being shut down.

Radcliffe breathes a sigh of relief when Mack and Yoyo disappear from the Framework to return to the Other Side.

“Right then,” he says to no one.  “Time tae go.”

But first, he returns to the Triskelion.  There’s something he wants from Madame Hydra’s office.  Something he knows from Hydra-Fitz she keeps in there.

*

Tagging: @scottxlogan, @majorenglishesquire, @kleenexwoman, @mistressofmuses, @elvenferretots, @iamanartichoke, @gaslightgallows, @mypaopu, @jcrewguy, @mayphoenix

#First lines meme thingie #I never get asks #I never get tagged

[shreddedparchment]

I am so needy for your writing. *giggles* >>> Bucky x Reader w/ “So, I accidentally did a thing and now I need your help.” & “Every time you speak I either wanna kiss you or throttle you.”

You can be as needy as you’d like! I hope you like this one. It was actually a lot of fun! And I stole one line of inspiration from a movie, let’s see if anyone can guess the line and the movie! I failed at drabbles again! Too long for a drabble…oh well.

Hurt

You hesitate as you look at the phone on the weightbench only five feet away. You know you need to call someone, anyone!

This also means that there’s only one person to call.And you really don’t want to call him. Your stomach twists itself into nervousknots and flutters as you think about dialing his number.

You shut your eyes tight, suddenly nervous beyondreason. It actually makes you nauseous and you swallow around the large lump inyour throat.

“Give me strength…” You beg no one in particular.

He might be away on mission, but would Thor give you thecourage if you pray to him?

You gasp as you try and put your weight on your rightfoot and intense pain shocks your system. Quickly you lift it from the ground.

“Fuck.” It feels worse than you feared.

You extend your leg again but just so that you can lookdown at your foot. You know that as soon as you take off that shoe it’s goingto be swollen like a balloon.

You whine very quietly like a useless puppy, hating thefeeling of being helpless.

The phone on the weight bench begins to buzz andcarefully you hop over to it. You fall forward as you reach it but steadyyourself with both hands flat on the cushioned seat as you regain your balance.

The screen of your phone lights up flashing, almosttaunting you with the name of the only other person who hadn’t gone on themission to Russia.

Sergeant Barnesflashes one more time before you quickly slide your finger across the screen,answering it. You press the speaker button too so that his voice echoes aroundthe large gym.

“What took you so long to answer? What the hell are youdoing?” He asks, the annoyance in his voice permeating the space.

You shut your eyes, made more nervous about asking for hishelp knowing he’s already upset.

“Hello?” He asks, his annoyance more pronounced at yourdelayed response.

“I’m here! Jeez, I thought you took that stick out ofyour ass when you moved in?” You lash out angrily, hurting, nervous, andwondering why you irritate him so easily.

Silence follows your angry retort and it lasts so longyou’re afraid he hung up. “Hello?!”

“I’m here.” He replies evenly, calmly.

“Why did you call me?” You ask, a grimace on your faceas you shift so that you can sit down and pick up the phone to hold in front ofyour face.

More silence. Then, “What do you want for dinner? Idon’t want to eat alone.”

What the fuck? Since when has Sergeant Barnes everwanted to eat with you?

You give your head a shake, moving passed the shock sothat you can ask for what you really need.

“Sergeant Barnes-“

“Bucky.” He corrects you.

“Bucky, I-” It feels weird to call him by his nameand you hesitate again, nervous once more with your stomach in knots.

“What?” He presses.

Best to just do it quick, right? “So, I accidentally did a thing and now I need your help.”

“What thing?!” He demands, on alert, his voice hard.

“I was lifting weights in the gym and I guess maybe Ididn’t secure the weights on the dumbbells correctly? Anyway, long story short,twenty-pound weights fell on my foot and I think it’s broken.” You finish witha sigh and then wait for him to speak but he doesn’t.

In fact, the line is dead quiet. “Bucky?”

You look at the phone and see that it’s still connected.

“Sergeant Barnes?” But as you lean towards the phoneagain you hear the line go dead. “Buck-?”

With a heavy sigh you put the phone down beside you,your heart heavy. Maybe he doesn’t care to help? Last thing he wants is to betroubled.

A full minute passes in which you stare down at yourfoot, sucking air through your teeth as you contemplate removing the shoe.

A loud crash behind you makes you whip your head around,twisting your torso to look towards the doors that are suddenly and violentlythrown open.

Holding them open with his arms held wide, Bucky stands scanningthe gym with his wide and muscular chest heaving as he tries to catch hisbreath. His eyes, blue and full of fire finally find you.

He struts towards you with wide steps and a worriedscowl. As he reaches you, he moves to stand in front of you then quickly squatsdown to look at your feet.

You swallow hard as he turns his gaze on you.

“Which one is it?” He asks, looking from the left to theright foot.

You slowly hold out your right foot and Bucky scootsback a little as you do.

With careful hands he holds your ankle and lifts it uphigher. “Does that hurt?”

You shake your head.

He grabs your heel and it makes the top of your footsting.

“How about that?” You grimace slightly and hold out yourhand, shake it to show him it hurts a little.

He places his hand underneath the middle of your footand lets it rest against his hand. You gasp and shut your eyes as your foot throbswith pain.

He quickly removes his hand and frowns up at you thenvery carefully takes off your shoe.

You’re almost crying when he pulls the shoe off yourfoot as it squeezes it tight. When it slips off it continues to throb but feelsmuch better too. Bucky runs his metal hand slowly down the length of your calf,comforting you? That’s what it feels like. Why?

With your shoe now off, Bucky looks your foot over.“It’s definitely broken. It’s really swollen. I’m gonna take your sock off,okay?”

You nod, and grab hold of the bench to brace yourself.He slides it off and you shut your eyes, afraid to feel the pain.

“Jesus…” Bucky gasps as your sock comes free.

“What?” You demand and open your eyes to look at yourfoot.

It is indeed veryswollen but also blackening quickly. The bruise is nasty and makes the wholeinjury look worse.

“Why didn’t you just ask for help with the weights?!”Bucky growls at you, slightly shouting.

You frown at him, bristling at his tone, “Because Ididn’t want to bother you! I know how irritating you find me. Excuse me fortrying to keep the peace.”

You shout back at him and he looks slightly confused fora split second then he’s scowling again.

Without warning he suddenly stands, shoving his armunderneath your legs while his other finds the middle of your back. He liftsyou easily.

“You don’t irritate me.” He grumbles then makes for thedoor. “You make me nervous.”

At first you don’t know what to do with both your armsor the small confession of you making him nervous. As the two of you cross intothe common room and head down the hall for the elevator, you slowly wrap yourarms around his neck, which effectively pulls you closer to his face.

His arms tighten beneath you.

“Why do I make you nervous?” You ask.

He looks down at you, frowning at your question.

“Because…” He says simply.

He presses the button for the elevator and you wait forit to come.

“Because why?” You insist.

He looks down at you again and his steel blue eyes flashthat fire you’d seem before in the gym and his scowl softens.

The elevator dings its arrival and he boards thenquickly presses the button for the med bay.

“Why?” You ask again as the elevator descends.

He looks at you once more but this time his eyes shiftto your lips.

“Every time you speak I either wanna kiss you orthrottle you.” This second confession has a much more immediate effect and hequickly pulls his gaze back up to the elevator doors.

You feel the heat rise in your neck and ears and yourstomach erupts into endless and dizzying flutters. Did you hear him correctly?

Only one way to find out.

“Well, um…which one is it now?” You ask and swallowhard, chasing the lump of nerves away.

Bucky looks down at you with his eyes searching yoursfor any sort of rejection. When he doesn’t find one, he doesn’t give you achance to prepare yourself.

He leans down and hungrily presses his lips to yours. Heopens his mouth, tasting your lips as your head swims, and your hands grip theback of his neck tightly.

When the shock wears off you allow him to part your lipswith the tip of his tongue and welcome the deeper kiss by wrapping your armsaround his neck more, closing the space between you.

“Mmm.” You mutter against him, quietly, a whisper as you’refinally getting what you’ve been wanting for a long time.

This prompts him to slowly pull away, an easy andrelaxed smile on his lips.

“I guess I’m not the only one that’s been pining?” Hewhispers.

“Please tell me that I’m the reason you stayed home fromthe Russia mission, because I never thought that the former Soviet assassinstaying behind was a good idea.” You whisper in a rush. “What if they need you?”

“You’re definitely the reason I stayed behind. I thinkyou need me more.” He admits and quickly kisses your lips again before heshifts so that he can bury his face against the side of your neck.

You run your hands lovingly along the back of his head,sighing, relieved to finally have what you’ve been waiting for since he movedin.

“Good.” You whisper, happy and content as Bucky snuggles closer despite the opening elevator door.

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