#muscle memory really kicked in by the time i wrote “out” can you tell
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#amphibian#frog#frogsona#amphibidextrous#muscle memory really kicked in by the time i wrote “out” can you tell#there is a slight but noticeable difference#what REALLY gets me about drawing wrong handed is it FEELS difficult but then the end result is visually not that different?#mainly it's hard to use lighter pressure
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Hii! Are you familiar with Detective Conan? I Hope you to include it too huhu.
Btw can i request fic about sasuke x half uchiha s/o? S/o was half uchiha with uzumaki, s/o and sasuke Meet When they’re in war, s/o was unrecognizable as uchiha bcs her red hair and her chakra was more dominant to uzumaki. But sasuke recognize her when she’s activated her sharingan. Thank u!
Ooh! Okay, imma try my best!
Also, no i dont watch detecrive conan- i just never really had the chance before lol but it looks really interesting so im thinking of giving it a try!
I wrote that sasuke recognises her as an uchiha during battle- so they were like about to kill eachother until he realises he was just about to kill the last uchiha other than him- cue trauma bonding <3
Masterlist<3
Sasuke x Reader - Kin
Blood drips down into your eye, smeared across your face along with all of the dirt and grime that's collected from being flung to the floor several times during the course of this battle. You've been blinded by the blood that's spread to your bruising eye and there's no time to wipe it as you dodge a barrage of blows from the mystery man with the strangest hair you've ever seen.
He flings a kunai at you from point-blank, forcing you to retreat back quickly as a lock of bright red hair flies through the air, separated from you by the kunai which just barely grazed your cheek and flew past your head. This is it! He missed- now's your chance!
Oh. Nevermind.
There's a leg that sweeps out of nowhere to kick your feet from beneath you and send you flying to the floor. Again. Time to use plan B, or die on this battlefield along with the rest of your comrades.
Red blossoms in your eyes as you activate your Sharingan, deflecting the sword that intends to pierce straight through your chest. You quickly kick your legs up into a spinning kick to clear the area around you and retreat to a relatively safe distance from this mystery man.
Stiff and tired muscles ready themselves into a fighting stance as you stare your opponent down, challenging them silently and trying your intimidation trick. It's never not worked for you before at least in terms of as a bluff, but you quickly find yourself in a daze as you're tackled to the ground with your opponent straddling your hips and pinning you to the floor.
He moves like lightning. You can't hope to keep up with him, and bright blue eyes widen in fear, your Sharingan having deactivated in your moment of hesitation. This is it then- you hesitated and this is where you die because of it. You curse that stupid blonde cousin of yours, huffing at the memory of him becoming your best friend after you'd met him in your early teens.
Sure you were only cousins, and you had only known eachother for a couple of years, but the two of you had grown to be like siblings. So when you heard that your little nuisance of a cousin was going to war, you leapt in with him. Yeah, that may have been a momentary lapse in judgement.
As you wait for the pain to come you flinch, only to open your eyes back up in confusion when nothing happens, and blush bright red when you realise that this boy is just pinning you down to seemingly stare at you. What the hell?
Meanwhile Sasuke blanches as he looks your body up and down, knowing that the Sharingan you possess is in fact your own since you could deactivate it, and realising that he was just seconds away from murdering what looks to be the last member of his cla. And she's only a half-breed too.
His eyes are wide as he cups your face with one hand, inspecting you closely as if he had just seen a ghost.
"You're... Uchiha... my kin-... There's what? Two or three of us left maybe and I almost killed one of the last surviving members! You idiot! Why didn't you tell me we were kin?!"
You stare up at him in shock, shaking like a leaf and not daring to move beneath him while he freaks out at you. He probably doesn't know how little you actually know about the Uchiha clan yourself, but that fact dawns on him as you look into his eyes with your own wide, fearful, confused ones.
So you really do know nothing. Whatever. At least you're alive.
The next few weeks can safely be described as hectic and stressful. Recovering from the war is difficult and you're still learning what you can about your Uchiha roots, wanting to know more about the family your father had.
During your time spent learning with Sasuke, now that you know his name, you both had grown closer and started to become friends, talking more and hanging out more. It was really nice to learn about your family and your culture, and to your surprise, he actually liked teaching you. It brought him a sort of closure that he couldn't really get anywhere else, and he liked talking to another Uchiha.
He's smitten with you, and it's obvious from the moment he told you on the battlefield that you were kin. Things move pretty quickly from here.
The ravenette takes you out to train and learn with him and he joins you eating at the ramen stand, and very slowly, these behaviours become normal for you, and the blue haired idiot is trying to woo you by treating you well.
Maybe you shouldn't follow blindly, but it's not reasoning has never really been your strong suit
#naruto fluff#naruto scenarios#naruto imagines#naruto#sasuke uchiha#sasuke x y/n#sasuke x reader#sasuke imagines#sasuke headcanons
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What's your favourite part about playing music (DUDE YOU PLAY THE VIOLIN THAY IS SO COOL GOGUISSHSKWKNEKFFODKD I LOVE VIOLIN SO MUCU 😭😭😭 EVERYTIME I HEAR STRINGS IN A SONG I LOSE MY SHITTJDKSODKFKFKDKD)
(also guitar player buddies pog:D I love playing the guitar sobs)
ALSO SPEAKING OF VIOLIN DO YOU KNOW WHO ANDREW BIRD IS
https://spotify.link/4hjuyaIGxIb
RAHSHS
Oh gosh, there’s so much I love I can’t narrow it down to just one thing, so I’ve made a top 3. (This is going to be long, btw.)
1. Inner peace. Idk how to explain it, but when I sit down just me, my guitar and one of my old books full of songs I can sight read back to front it’s like the rest of the world disappears. I don’t really need to think about playing the music, and I don’t get frustrated because I know the songs, but I still need to focus enough so my thoughts don’t drift. It’s just me and my music in that moment. Nothing else. That’s my happy place. Especially in summer when I can go and sit in the garden in the sun. I play music just for me and just for the joy of learning it. I don’t really like playing for other people or showing off because then I’m no longer playing for me and my perfectionism kicks in hard, which makes it a lot harder to still enjoy the music.
2. Playing with other musicians! I joined our music school’s string orchestra this year and I’ve been having a blast. It made me realise how much I had missed by guitar ensemble. Such a big part of being a teen was that one hour a week I spent in guitar ensemble with my friends (none of us liked the teacher and we were little shits about it, but we did get shit done). I also think that’s how you learn the most/fastest. A. Because you have a bunch of other people how can help/teach you. B. Because you have to learn in order to keep up, you have to match that same level to play along.
It’s also fun because the stress of having to preform falls away. Everyone is too focused on their own thing to notice your mistakes and the audience tends to not hear or notice the mistakes because it’s really hard to tell that they are there without either knowing the song already or having the sheet music in front of you. So I like playing in a group because I can convince myself to not put too much pressure on it.
Oh, and jam sessions with friends are always fun. I tend to have one once every 3-4 months. Sometimes it’s playing songs we already know or tried. Sometimes it’s just “hey what if we did this song?” And then everyone looks up the chords and we try it a few times. Seeing the music come together is always fun. I end up going home with a sore throat from singing my lungs out every time.
3. This one’s not really about playing it, but sharing music. Going “Hey, I learned to play this song, what do you think?” or “hey i wrote this. Any thoughts?” or talking about new musicians you discovered and making your friends listen. And listening to the stuff your friends write! I have a friend who composed classical music and orchestral shit and I love getting little private concerts!
VIOLIN IS SO COOL! It’s also hell to learn. It’s like playing a video game with endless boss battles. You constantly have to work your way up to the fight so you can get past that hurdle only to be immediately hit with the next skill issue. I’m struggling so hard with the third position. Not even with the position itself, just with switching between first and third and back. I miss my frets!!! I miss being able to see/feel where my notes are instead of having to know them all by muscle memory! And don’t get me started on the bow. Violin is like 80% bow control/management and it’s funfair! I do really love playing the violin. It’s so much fun once you get the hang of a piece.
YOU PLAY THE GUITAR TOO!?! GUITAR BUDDIES, HELL YEAH!
Oh I didn’t, but I’m looking him up right now.
#the askers#icyfox17#music#Phoenix I know you read these#I still need to get a copy of Victorian Dance Party on my phone because it’s a crime I can’t listen to it when it’s stuck in my head
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Cringe, but effective
Amber:You know my legs work, right?
Keqing:*dragging Amber* I didn’t feel like explaining.
Amber:I noticed. You came out of nowhere and scooped me into the teapot while I writing a report. You do know I have responsibi-
Collei*pouting under a tree*
Kokomi:*being used as lap pillow*
Amber:*runs over* What’s wrong my little ranger!?
Keqing:(If I knew she could move that fast I would’ve told her sooner…)
Collei:I keep messing up my timing with others and Keqing got hurt because of it.
Keqing:I told her I was perfectly fine.
Collei:The Terrorshroom punted you across the arena! Kokomi had to force feed you a fried egg.
Keqing:…And I was fine after that.
Kokomi:You really did fly though.
Keqing:Not helping.
Collei:Then Aether took a hit for me because I missed mine.
Aether:*sitting in tree* People miss shots sometimes. Amber doesn’t always make hers.
Amber:He’s right but that doesn’t mean it feels good or that you should call me out like that.
Aether:Hehe…my bad.
Collei:I just don’t want to be the reason everything falls apart.
Amber:New teams are an adjustment. What’s important for a support is to not be too eager. It’s all about timing.
Collei:Easier said then done when someone is moving like lightning. It’s hard to tell.
Aether and Kokomi:Yep.
Keqing:It’s my fault now!? I keep track of all of your positions and move out if the way for you all to do what has to be done. Granted, I’ve personally misjudged the boomerang a couple times.
Amber:Well did you tell Collei all the openings?
Keqing:I went over them. I even wrote them dow-
ACAK:…..
Keqing:….I apologize.
Collei:No I should’ve said something. Honestly I can read it, it’s just…umm I don’t exactly…get it.
Kokomi:The word you’re looking for is comprehend, It’s hard to understand. Specifically because your reading comprehension.
Collei:Funny, I think master was the only person who’d teach me a word then use it against me.
Kokomi:I’m sorry! I just wanted to teach!
Amber:Sounds like you for need to run drills again and again until it’s muscle memory.
Aether:That doesn’t work to well when things fall apart. Going off script with Keqing looks planned because people eventually figure out what she wants without her saying.
Keqing:Are you implying I have bad communication skills?
Kokomi:Not at all. You’re just used to more experience and long term partners who know you well. Collei is new. She doesn’t know you being in her line of fire is fine because you’re ready move around it.
Collei:What!?
Keqing:Okay, we’ll run drills.
Amber:Why don’t you call out team maneuvers?
Collei:That’s a thing?
Aether:Yeah, Captains come up with names and phrases that let the team pull off coordinated attacks, kinda like superheroes.
Collei:That’s…really cringe.
Keqing:Thank You! Someone gets it!
Aether:It might be a little cringe, but a giant mushroom chicken might not kick you like rubber ball. Plus I think the names people come up with are clever!
Klee comes skipping out of the house as happy as can be.
Aether:Watch this. Hey Klee!?
Klee:Yes?
Aether:Can you call out a team attack please?
Klee:Okay! I Need A Playground!
As if out of thin air, Albedo comes out of nowhere and makes a geo field, Zhongli gives Klee a shield, and Jean put a healing circle right in the middle of the field.
Klee:Yay! Good hustle!
Collei:Where did they even come from!?
Amber:When Klee wants something, you hustle. I’ve seen her in the middle unleashing bombs more times than I can count.
Collei:That’s a playground!?
Aether:For her. Not really for anyone else. She’s safe and can do whatever she wants. Now then, Keqing, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Love ya!
Keqing:But-
Him, Kokomi and Amber give encouraging thumbs up before going off to do anything else.
Keqing:….
Collei:I guess we have to embrace cringe.
Keqing:So it seems.
Collei:….*red*
Keqing:…..*red*
Collei:This is gonna be so dumb!
Keqing:I know! You wait here, I’ll grab us lunch. This could take a while.
xxxxx
Kokomi:Why didn’t you tell them you just wanted them to do a bit of bonding?
Aether:Because I thought this is funnier.
Amber:Is that why you didn’t tell them they could use a name like Formation A?
Aether and Kokomi:No, we really want cool attack combos! *excited*
Amber:Man, Sara had to fight an entire war against you…
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To Michael: Thanks for always being such a good sport. I realized I hadn't written anything about the stuff we discussed off stream so here it all is. Wrote it from memory so I'm hoping I remembered the details properly.
It's Friday; she knows she needs to go back to campus and show up to the rest of her classes. And she does, at least physically, with the help of a lot of caffeine. But her head, and her heart? Definitely elsewhere. She's finding it hard to focus, even if she knows that he's okay, as okay as someone can be after taking a beating like he did. But she forces herself to focus out of necessity and that takes a huge chunk of her energy.
It's the stuff that happens after her classes that gets hard, the stuff that is arguably more important to her now that she's no longer focused on becoming a doctor. But somehow, even with everything that's happened over the last day and a half or so taking up the unoccupied spaces in her mind, she manages to get through her gymnastics training with the help of muscle memory and sheer determination.
She was never going to be an Olympic level athlete, mostly because she wasn't able to commit to a full time training regimen as a child. And by the time she was able to settle down somewhere to throw herself into the training, she no longer wanted to train at the Elite level. She loved gymnastics but had decided she no longer wanted it to be her entire life.
Even with that, gymnastics is the only thing that completely makes sense to her. When she's stressed, when she's excited, when she's upset…she could always count on on her training to help her burn some energy or work through her emotions.
She's almost disappointed when the team is dismissed at the end of their practice. Almost.
As soon as she's back in her dorm, she knows exactly what to do next. Without even really thinking about it, she picks up the stuffed blue unicorn from her bed and stuffs it in her backpack, along with her laptop and textbooks.
With a beam of blue light, she disappears, teleporting to the Command Center.
When she gets there, she asks Alpha to replicate the necklace she had created for Dana that grants access to her room, just in case. She doesn't explain the why in too much detail but she does tell Alpha that she intends to give it to Peter, just so he can gain access to Billy's journals without her having to be around.
The blue gem with compressed Morphin' Grid energy hanging on a chain, she puts it around her blue unicorn's neck and places it on Peter's bed for him to find when he inevitably makes his way back to the Command Center. She has no idea when it will be but she figures he'll come around eventually.
To pass the time, she trains. Morphed, but without her helmet on, she goes through the motions with her Bladed Bow in Dagger Mode, replaying his instruction in her head. Muscle memory kicks in yet again and she practices the moves, hearing his coaching in her mind.
And when she finds herself physically exhausted and her mind still racing at a hundred miles an hour, she spends some time in her room, hitting the books. She does actually study for class for a while and only stops when she notices the time on her laptop's clock. It's midnight.
She takes her time figuring out what she wants to send but eventually, she reaches for her phone and not her communicator to reach out to Peter.
Hey. Where are you?
I just got back. Thinking of heading to the lab or the training room.
You gotta take it easy. You’re still recovering.
I know.
Wanna go for a drive instead? Can’t sleep.
Sure.
When she steps out her room and meets up with him in the hallway, dressed in a blue hoodie and her jeans, the first thing she notices is the lack of a sling on Peter.
“You’re…you’re okay,” the statement comes out with in a surprised tone.
“Yeah, a little sore still but I’m all right,” he reassures her.
She wraps her arms around him and gives him a hug, lingering a bit longer than expected, as if to reassure herself that he is there and he is in fact okay.
When she finally releases him, they both teleport to her car to begin their journey. Sophie just drives for a while, her music filling the car.
Peter knows that when Sophie goes for a drive, it’s often to clear her head, which is why it is a little surprising to have her ask for his company. But she had needed a distraction the first time she had invited him and he’s more than willing to provide the distraction again, or whatever else she might need.
Sophie doesn’t ask for a distraction and she doesn’t lip sync along to any of the music like Peter does. She doesn’t speak for a while until they find themselves at a cliff, overlooking Angel Grove. She parks the car and takes the top off the car, revealing the stars in the sky and the view of the city.
"I love it here," she says quietly as she turns down the music to have it play quietly in the background, "I love the view and I love watching the stars."
"I know. It's really pretty out here." Peter doesn't pry; he knows better.
"I haven't been able to sleep between the dream I had last night and everything that's happened to you earlier…" Sophie admits after a moment of silence.
"Yeah, that was really rough…" Peter lets his voice trail off, his eyes fixed on Sophie, waiting expectantly for her to continue. He knows that if he waits long enough, she'll tell him what's bothering her. She's done it once before. "Is the dream you had why you were half asleep during Zordon's call?"
After nodding in response to his question, Sophie leans her head against his shoulder, looking up at the sky as she places a hand on his thigh before finally speaking again. “I had a dream that I was actually a part of Lightspeed and you weren't in my life, and it felt…so wrong, you know?” She doesn't dare to look up at Peter for his reaction. “It felt so wrong that you weren't a part of my life, that we weren't friends.”
“You know, it's good that it felt wrong, because you're an important part of the team. We need you.” Instinctively, he pulls her in close with his left arm and places his right hand on the hand that's on his thigh.
Sophie doesn’t know how to respond to Peter so she doesn’t. Instead she says, “I want you to know, I won’t be the one that tries to stop you when you take off; I’ll be the one right behind you. I hope you know I’ll always have your back.”
“I know,” Peter replies, his eyes up to the sky, looking up at the stars. “I appreciate that.”
“Sarah was asking about you; I didn’t tell her anything…”
“I plan to tell everyone else eventually, I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“I just didn’t feel like it was my place to tell her your story.”
They spend some time looking up at the stars, in comfortable silence, and Sophie finds herself settling into his arms, despite her mind still going a mile a minute. She is still a little tense and he can feel it.
“Hey, you okay?” he speaks quietly when he finally feels her energy levels drop, his eyes still to the sky, “Why don’t you let me drive? Why don’t you just try to relax?”
Sophie looks ready to protest but she can feel the mental and emotional exhaustion slowly start to settle in. She wordlessly pulls away from Peter and steps out of the car to switch spots with him. She’s stubbornly fighting her exhaustion and it’s not that hard to tell.
The rest of the drive is uneventful, with Peter lip syncing to the music while Sophie looks on tiredly, amused by his antics. It feels a little more like their first drive together, and she finds herself smiling despite everything. They manage to return to the campus parking lot and teleport away to the Command Center without incident.
As they walk down the hallway that leads down to their rooms, their hands find themselves interlocked and neither one questions it or reacts to it, feeling like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She’s not ready to go to bed. She’s not ready to let him go yet. But then they stop in front of her room and she knows she’s going to have to let go.
"You should go get some sleep," Peter says in a quiet voice. "I still have a couple of things to work on in the lab..."
“No, Pete. I'm too tired to fight you on this. You need to rest too.”
“Then don't fight me, just go to bed, please.” There is a pleading tone to his voice, more out of concern for her than anything else.
"Only if you come with me." Sophie's tired brain doesn't filter her thoughts, the first thing coming to mind escapes her lips.
Peter is taken aback by the statement and takes a moment to figure out what to say. "I'll stay for a little while until you fall asleep," he offers gently.
Once they enter the room, it doesn't take much time at all for Sophie to fall asleep, still fully dressed, once her head hits the pillow. Peter tucks her in and sits at the foot of her bed, rubbing her back and watching her settle into a deep sleep for a few minutes before stepping out of the room and retreating to his own room.
#episode tag: power rangers let there be thunder#sophie marsh: true blue#power rangers let there be thunder: oops lightspeed rescue crossover#set between episode 17 and 18#peter parker x sophie marsh: actions speak louder than words
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Day Four: 12/17/20
On the fourth day of Ficmas, Hazel gave to thee, Sweater Weather behind the scenes!
Sweater Weather Outtakes. Sometimes I changed it because I feel like the pacing was off, which is the case in the first big chunk, and sometimes I changed it because I just wanted the plot to be different. I wrote a lot of the end of Sweater Weather in the very beginning before most of the fic was even written, just musing to myself about my boys winning the Cup. Enjoy!
TW: Mentions of being outed.
(This takes place right after they were outed.)
Sirius was doing something wrong, and that was not calling Remus for two days.
Sirius stood. “So, we’re settled.”
Alice nodded. “We have our plan. Now, as Arthur says, we just have to wait for a few punches. Good thing you’re familiar with those.”
Arthur stood, too, and slapped Sirius on the back. “I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve let no one own you, and that’s hard for someone in your position. You’ve come a long way. See you on TV, eh?”
Sirius glanced at Remus, who was talking to Alice as they walked out of Coach’s office and into the hallway. “It hasn’t been without help. Merci, Coach. For everything.”
Sirius ducked out into the hallway, half expecting to find Remus gone, disappeared, to find all of this not real. He felt like he was floating above everything, dreading the comments that he knew to expect from others, kicking himself for running, fighting to be brave about it all.
Sirius had a lot of people making decisions for him.
This one was for him to make.
There Remus was, back turned, watching Alice disappear back into her office.
Sirius’ heart pounded as he reached out and lay a gentle hand on Remus’ back. He felt like he was going to collapse with it, with wanting to be alone with him, to say he was sorry, to say how thankful he was to have him. Remus turned and looked at him, face soft. He looked as tired as Sirius felt.
“Come with me?” Sirius asked.
Remus nodded hurriedly and Sirius followed Remus towards the quiet room, where they seemed to be just making memory after memory. Remus shut the door and stayed against it for a moment, hands on the smooth wood.
Sirius took a few quick, nervous breaths. Looking at Remus, he was done trying to protect the both of them by pushing him away. He hurt without Remus and, by the set of Remus’ shoulders, he felt the same.
“Remus,” Sirius stepped forward, and Remus turned.
“I don’t care if I get fired,” Remus said suddenly, all in one breath, back against the door. “I want you. I care about you. Sirius, do whatever you need to, just talk to me about it so I can do what I need to—”
Sirius strode forward and took Remus’ face in his hands. Remus sank into his touch, like it pulled the tension coiled in his muscles. Like it was all he needed.
“I’m scared of a lot of things right now,” Sirius whispered, thumbs stroking across Remus’ cheeks. “But I’m the most scared of losing you.”
Remus’ lip shook, and he brought his hands up to hold Sirius’. “You are?”
Sirius hated that Remus even questioned it. He couldn’t seem to get close enough, pressing them together, feeling Remus’ warmth through his t-shirt.
“Remember what you said? What you said about people who told me I wasn’t good enough?”
Remus’ hands tightened around his wrists, eyes filling. He nodded. “I’d make you forget.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Sirius said softly. “But I didn’t need you to make me forget.” He stroked his thumbs through the slow tears that blinked down Remus’ cheeks. “I needed you, so I could see that they were wrong.”
Remus let out a tear filled breath, curving a hand around the back of Sirius’ neck.
“Re,” Sirius whispered, brushing their noses together. “I see now.”
Remus let out a laugh, half sob. “C’est l’heure?” He twisted his wrist, making his watch flash in the dim light. It’s time? he had asked.
Sirius smiled, tears in his throat, relief in his chest. “Oui, mon vœu.”
Remus pressed up onto his toes and kissed Sirius hard, breath hitching. Sirius let Remus clutch him close, craving the feeling of him after what felt like so long. He wrapped him up, his strong shoulders and slim waist, and buried his nose in his hair, breathing in.
They stayed like that, kissing and close in the semi-darkness. It didn’t matter if anyone walked in, Sirius suddenly realized with a thrill. It didn’t matter at all. He could hold Remus like this in the middle of the street if he wanted. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. The image of a burning jersey, his burning jersey. A chill crept in, but he pushed it back, holding Remus’ warmth closer. He was leaving tonight. He needed all the warmth he could get. It was as if Remus remembered, too, because then he was pulling back and pressing kiss after kiss to Sirius’ mouth, to his cheeks and jaw.
“I’ll miss you,” Sirius whispered. “I wish you were coming with me.”
Remus tucked his face into Sirius’ neck, hands locked around Sirius’ waist, resting at the base of his spine. “Me too.”
“My mother will be there,” Sirius’ voice shook despite himself. “Because my brother.”
“Maybe…” Remus pulled back just enough to look at Sirius. “Maybe it will help to see her. To talk to her. Maybe it will show you that she really has no say in your life. Not anymore.”
Sirius nodded. “I think, maybe, but I also…When I see her, I can’t help it, I get all…”
“Aw, baby,” Remus sighed and pressed his cheek to Sirius’ chest.
“What about you, your family? Have you talked to them?”
Remus made a guilty noise. “I texted them…I don’t know why, I just—I wanted to sort things out with you first. I couldn’t think about anything but you.”
“Remus,” Sirius sighed. “Merde, you’re so…this happened to you, too. How are you, mon loup?”
“Worried about you,” Remus laughed and then pressed his forehead to Sirius’ chest before looking up at him. “I’m…I’m actually okay. This isn’t how I wanted to tell my family but, when I talk to them…I get to talk about you, too.”
Sirius stared at him, smile slow. “Jules.”
Remus laughed again. “Oh my fucking god. I think he’s going to pass out.” He groaned. “God, I hope he didn’t see those pictures, though. That’s…I don’t know. I wish we could have surprised him, or told him together.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know yet,” Sirius offered. “Maybe we can.”
“Maybe,” Remus said, then reached up and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I’ll call them tonight.”
“Text me so I can call you when I get to the hotel?” Sirius asked hopefully, and Remus nodded.
“You better.”
“You wanna come over and help me pack?”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re gonna get any packing done with me there?”
Sirius shrugged, ducking to brush their mouths together. “Maybe a little.”
Remus kissed him, and they pressed together for a few minutes, mouths hot. Remus laughed breathlessly as Sirius leaned against him, their kisses turning deeper.
“This sounds crazy, given everything,” Sirius said, dragging his mouth across Remus’ jaw. “But I feel—I’m relieved. Are you?”
“Yes,” Remus whispered, tilting his head back so Sirius could kiss more of his neck. “I can have you.”
“You could always have me.”
“Yeah,” Sirius could hear the smile in Remus’ voice. “But now I can have you wherever I want.”
Sirius grinned, biting gently on Remus’ jaw. “I’ll take you back to Sid’s and you can wipe food off my face all you want, cameras be damned.”
Remus laughed out loud. “My dream.”
“Should we get out of this dark room?” Sirius said softly after another lingering kiss.
Remus smiled and nodded.
Here’s a really early piece of dialogue I wrote where the team finds out about Sirius and Remus on the ice after they win the Cup:
“Holy shit,” Finn said tearfully. “You and the fucking Captain. I didn’t even know who I was talking to, did I?”
“No,” Remus laughed, and Finn kissed him right on the cheek.
“Jesus Christ, Loops, we’re in love and we have a Cup.”
“We really do. Proud of you, Harzy. All of you.”
~
“I love you.”
It came out of nowhere, slammed into Remus like a check to the boards, like a gust of pure, clean win across a frozen pond. He was blissful and awake with it.
“I love you,” Sirius said again, whispered against his skin. “I love you, Remus, je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime, mon loup, Remus…”
Sirius was gasping with it, as if the words were air themselves.
Remus clutched him, hands fisting his jersey. “I love you. God, of course, of course I love you, too.”
And here’s me almost giving Pascal a career ending injury during the playoffs, which Sirius and Remus overhear the Cubs comforting Logan about. Just incase the discord wants some angsty roads to go down :)
“Oh, sweetheart,” Leo’s voice came gently, followed by a low sob, probably from Logan.
Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Sweetheart Sirius mouthed, and Remus shook his head.
“I’m fine,” Logan said, voice thick. “I’ll be fine, let’s go, we need to play.”
“You’re not fine,” came a third voice, Finn’s, Remus realized. “And you don’t need to be. Lo, c’mere, please let us be here for you. C’mere.”
There was the unmistakable sound of a short kiss, and with that, Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm and pulled back back down the hallway as fast as he could. They ended up in Remus’ office, staring at each other.
“I…” Sirius began. “Okay, I don’t know what we just heard, but…”
“He’s being comforted by his—friends,” Remus said. “That’s all we know because…”
“They haven’t said anything yet.”
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How's about 45 and 54 where canon MK finds himself in the Inverted AU Universe? Because I think that'd be funny
Poor MK is having the second worst day of his entire life. This is not the situation he should be in AFTER THE FINALE. This would have been way different if I wrote this when you sent it in, but now you get a very sad Monkie Kid.
You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child./ Yeah well dying generally puts a damper on things.
When MK was knocked out they were on the deck of the drone ship, fighting off some kind of demon that the White Bone Spirit had taken under her control.
When MK woke up they were on the sandy shores of Mount Huaguo surrounded by baby monkeys and one Six-Eared Macaque looking down at them with a face of great concern.
“Are you-” Macaque started to ask them, unable to finish his sentence when MK screamed and kicked out and just barely missed making contact that would have sent him flying backwards into the nearest tree. “Whoa, no, it’s alright! I’m not-”
“What did you do to me this time, Macaque!?” MK yelled, looking around for a weapon, any weapon, something they could use to defend themself. Their eyes fell on something familiar, something that shouldn’t exist anymore and they froze at the sight of red and gold.
“Little one, is your name MK?” Macaque asked softly, holding up his hands as he slowly walked forward back toward the started and confused young adult before him. “I found you washed up on the shore. You need to lay back down, you’re still-”
Macaque let out a yelp of surprise as MK dove, hand firmly grasping the familiar warm-cold center of the staff.
But it felt... wrong, somehow.
They didn’t let go.
"OK, WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" MK shouted, holding the stolen staff in front of them as they turned on the immortal monkey that was their one time mentor. "Is this Jin and Yin again? Is this the Calabash!? Did they change it so my stuff doesn’t work in it anymore!? I'm not falling for that again!"
"I'm sorry, the what?" A new voice rang from behind him. One a little... too familiar...
It was MK. It shouldn't be possible, not if the Calabash was working the same way it had worked before, but it was them. But not.
Like... the way the staff felt.
The Other MK standing in the too bright sun wore a stark sky blue and black instead of his signature orange and red, a large hefty backpack in that same blue slung over his back. And he was... tall. Not unusually tall, just taller than MK was. And also looked incredibly angry as he carried a box of medical supplies.
"The... Calabash..." MK repeated, holding the staff closer to their chest with a nervous gulp. Their hands twisted around the staff nervously, hoping the repetitive action would ground them against the repeating 'THERE IS ANOTHER YOU STARING AT YOU WHAT THE HELL' whizzing in their head. "This... this isn't Jin and Yin again after all, is it?"
MK gulped again, blinking as their vision swam suddenly and their head felt like it was filled with... something. Like liquid but if it was as light as air.
"I don't know which answer would be better for you," Macaque said softly, honesty palpable in his tone. Something so odd for the Monkie Kid to hear in their ears with that voice. "But no. We are very much real."
"Oh..." MK said plainly. "Oh that's bad. That's... Oh boy..."
Before their eyes rolled back in their head and they passed out they were pretty sure they saw a few more overly familiar faces rushing to them.
~
When MK woke a second time they were once again moved, but to somewhere else far less familiar than the shores of Mount Huaguo and the drone ship... but also too familiar. They also now realized that their head hurt... a lot. Like, a lot a lot.
“Finally, you’re back from the brink of death,” that same overly familiar voice rang our in their ear. They snapped their head to the side, regretting it instantly as it made their vision swim again and lights pop in front of their eyes. “Hey, no, don’t do that!"
The other MK jumped up, kneeling down in front of them and poked them in the forehead. His scowl didn’t seem to let up in the slightest, but it tilted in a way that felt more concerned than angry.
"... why am I looking at my own face?" MK asked, not sure whether they should continue to stare at their own face or to look anywhere else to keep their brain from short circuiting trying to process what the actual hell was happening.
“Considering you were able to pick up my staff,” the other MK said, removing his finger and gesturing to the rod that was still across MK’s chest (how had he not noticed the extra weight of it still in his hand?). “I’d say we have some kind of multi-dimensional bullshitery going on here. Unless you’re, somehow, a robot made of the same shit Red used to get the that thing in the first place, but I don’t think robots bleed from head injuries.”
Ah. That would explain why his head felt like someone had cracked it open and shoved cotton balls into it.
MK looked around, taking in the stark white walls and the overly clean smell and the clean white sheets they were laid on.
“... am I at the hospital?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Other MK yelled, raising his arms in frustration as he paced the room in a familiar excess of energy. “But unfortunately for us you don’t exactly exist here! So we’re figuring out a way to make them believe you’re me with some really fucked up memories my dude! Which is easier with, you know.”
The other MK knocked on his head twice, wincing a bit as the second knock seemed to be harder than intended.
“... but you’re..?”
“I snuck in.”
“OK, well, thanks for the help,” MK started, sitting himself up with more than a little struggle. “But I need to figure out what the heck happened and get back to-!”
“Oh no you don’t!” Other MK said, jumping on the bed and standing over him. That was... well, MK would definitely say that was a very weird but effective way of keeping someone from getting up. “Macaque already ran off without letting me stop him, I barely got him to take some backup, to figure out what in the hell is happening. You are me and I know myself and if you ever tell anyone this I will end you, but you are way too injured to be doing anything right now!”
“I have to do something, Other Me-”
“No, oh no I hate that, just call me Blue,” the other MK said, the scowl on his face softened ever so slightly once again. Just slightly. “It’s a lot better than ‘other me’. And there’s nothing we can do until Macaque gets us some answers.”
"So... what, Blue? Am I just supposed to sit around and wait for someone to come and rescue me if he finds nothing!?" MK snapped, grip on their staff tightening so much that their knuckles paled and creaked in stress. "Just do nothing while who knows what happens to my friends!?"
"No," Blue said, placing his hand on MK's shoulder and frowning when the other shrugged it off and curled in on themselves. "But hurting yourself isn't going to help you get back to them. And as long as you’re here you’re my responsibility.”
“I’m a grown ass adult, you should know that.”
“Yeah, well, dying generally puts a damper on things and you’re not so adult that you can’t escape death,” Blue said, letting himself fall back into a sitting position on the bed. “Unless you got to keep your invulnerability or something, but given the crack in your noggin that doesn’t seem... like...” Blue trailed off, looking at MK with an odd expression. “... are you ok? Like. Emotionally?”
“Huh?”
“You’re crying.”
MK wrestled with one of their hands to free it’s iron grip on the staff (not their staff, their staff was gone, they had to remind themselves that their staff was gone and... and so was so much else), raising to their cheek to discover that at some point in Blue’s retort they had indeed started crying.
“... what happened to you?”
“It’s a long story,” MK said, wiping their face on their arm (they now realized they were wearing hospital dressing). “I...” They grabbed the staff with their now free hand again, twisting the grip carefully and freeing the iron hold their other hand had. “Can I just... keep this for a bit longer?”
Blue looked at MK, looking between the other him and the staff that was rightfully his before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck.
“Not like I need it right this second,” he said, his scowl vanishing completely as he stood and yanked over his backpack and put it back on after he pulled a baseball cap out and squished his hair into it and pulled it down to cover his face. “There’s gonna be someone here with you at all times until you get out, just to keep you in the loop of what’s going on here. We’ll figure out where you’re staying if Mac doesn’t figure out a way to get you home by tonight.” He moved toward the entrance to the room, turning back before opening it. “I’ll be back, I gotta restock my bag. There’s a couple people who wanna talk to you already... don’t... freak out.”
Before MK could ask what Blue meant the young man opened the door and slipped out, talking to someone just out of his line of vision before running off down the hall.
And then they saw the overly familiar sight of Pigsy and Tang... except they weren’t.
Pigsy, their Pigsy, was always in a chef’s uniform unless he was sleeping. Rough edges softened when he smiled or looked at MK or Mei with that exasperated look that MK knew meant he cared. Tang, their Tang, was a scholar who looked the part in every way, old fashioned clothes and books in hand. Always smiling when he could manage it and carefree.
This Pigsy was.. soft. And fluffy. Literally soft and fluffy. And wore oversized sweaters and smiled in a way that fit more on someone else’s face but felt right at home on his. This Tang was...
Well, the only way MK could think to describe the man before them was “skinny biker with probably hidden muscles who would kick your ass”. He looked the same but his hair was more wild, sunglasses pushing his bangs up, decked out in a (probably fake) leather jacket... but he had the same scarf.
And he and Pigsy were holding hands.
“I suppose you already know who we are,” the biker version of Tang said, smile on his face very awkward and seeming somewhat forced in a “I don’t know if this is helping but I’m gonna try” kind of way. “And we know who... you are. Kinda.”
“Yeah,” MK responded, thinking for a moment back to when he was found on the beach. “Were you... were you the ones with Blue, the other me, on Mount Huaguo?”
“Yeah,” the soft Pigsy said and... wow, hearing that voice say something so gently so casually was throwing him through a loop. “M-Blue was convinced we needed to get out of the city for the day and brought us along for his training. We didn’t expect to find... well, another him...” Pigsy frowned, the first one MK saw on his face and it felt so much more openly worried than their own Pigsy’s scowls. “How are you feeling?”
MK looked down at the staff in their hands, then back up to the two men in front of them.
They weren’t the two people MK considered father figures. They weren’t. But they were. And as MK tried to process this they felt their breathing speed up faster and faster and faster until-
“Hey,” Tang said, gentle and soft voice breaking MK from their racing thoughts as he reached out to put a hand in MK’s hair but stopped himself short. Probably in remembering that they weren’t Blue. “You can stay with us if you want. Once you’re discharged and if you need somewhere to stay.”
Well... that didn’t help at all.
No.
Instead it opened the floodgates and MK started crying harder than they had since the final fight with the White Bone Spirit, curling in on themselves as the last few days and what had transpired really hit them.
“What the FUCK did you do!?” He heard his own voice shout from the doorway.
~
It looked like PIgsy’s apartment. But not.
MK’s hands clenched at air, wishing they still had the staff for comfort. But no, they insisted that Blue take it back when they were discharged.
Blue was still the Monkie Kid after all. He needed the staff to fight.
MK... was just MK here. And they couldn’t fight, not while recovering from their injuries anyway.
But oh how they wish they hadn’t given it back. It felt so right and yet so wrong to hold it. They didn’t realize how much they had grown attached to the object until it was...
“MK?” Once again Pigsy’s voice startled him, not for the first time since they arrived at the apartment and MK took up the extra bedroom that this world’s counterpart had once stayed in until the apartment above the shop opened up for them. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” they responded, hands gripping the edge of their jacket in an attempt to hold something solid. It wasn’t the same. “I can handle myself.”
“I know you can, but you don’t have to,” Pigsy said, coming into the room holding a cup of water and putting it on the nightstand. “And you don’t have to talk to us, if you don’t want to... but it’d probably help. Even if you just ramble about something.”
Had this been the other Pigsy he probably would have something something like “You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child”. Something firm and gruff and filled with underlying affection for the younger adult. But this Pigsy... there was some of that there. A firmness to his words, though the gruffness was missing. But he could feel the affection he must have had for Blue transferring to themself, the knowledge that they weren’t the same person holding most of it back.
But it was still there.
And MK hadn’t really talked to anyone since the short lived argument with Blue.
“... You uh...” they started, chuckling quietly as they twisted their fingers together. “You said you own a flower shop? My Pigsy, uh... he, runs a noodle shop.”
It wasn’t going to help. MK was certain that talking about their family and friends and how different they were would probably make how he felt worse.
But sitting there and ignoring it would make it worse far quicker in their mind.
So MK talked. For hours. Eventually Tang joined the two, both listening as MK recalled all the differences and similarities and...
Well. They listened. Just like their own Pigsy and Tang would.
... they wondered if they would ever get to go back.
#monkie kid#lego monkie kid#fanfic#gen fic#inverted au#crossover#mk#Qi Xiaotian#six eared macaque#pigsy#tang#freenoodleshipping#(implied)#MK is having a BAD day and eventually all your emotions catch up to you and you break like a dam#i used they for mk and he for Blue because it got very confusing writing the two of them without referring to their clothing color constant
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Lol, Jean and Mikasa switch places on drawing each other but Jean's drawing looks like something done by a really uncoordinated first grader. Mikasa unironically loves it.
ANON! I wrote a short lil fic for ya💖💖💖 I hope you enjoy?
It’s called lovers’ interlude
Oh how I love writing Jeankasa💖
lovers’ interlude
Jean is suddenly conscious about his state of undress, a heat creeps up his neck and fills his cheeks. He’s been told it’s a good body. He sees it too, in her eyes when she sees him bare before her. But still, he wants to escape the artist’s scrutiny. But when he tries. The narrowing of her eyes tells him maybe it’s best to keep as still as he can. Except through trial and error, Jean figures he’s still allowed a range of movement. He picks up a paper and pencil off the side tables, put there conveniently by the inn keeper for inspired travellers.
And he begins sketching.
Mikasa knows he’s doing it to get back at her. So she chuckles, like you would at a child in his father’s shoes, stomping around the house with an air of feigned authority. Cute.
He remembers this- he remembers how much time he had spent on this as a child. The scrape of lead against fibre, of the tips of his fingers coming to blend out the rough corners. Strange it should return to him now- to occupy the rare quiet of the mornings. To conceal his nervousness, to suppress his need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter- was it good for you? Did you sleep well? Will you stay? Will you come again tonight?
But she had picked his shirt off the ground and now she has put it on. She’s swimming in it. There are a few buttons loose, and the shirt is framing her collarbones in a way that takes his breath away. This is the interlude. Jean’s favourite part of any piece of music has always been- the interlude.
“Stop moving so much…” he says when she shifts on the couch and she’s laughing. She kicks out her feet in front of her, stretching languidly and then she’s walking towards him. He raises a brow. What are you doing here?
“It’s cold…” she says. And already he’s making space for her. He’s holding the duvet open, gesturing for her to slip in beside him.
She’s leaning against him, where he had propped himself up against the headboard. His arm is draped around her. This is his favourite part. How casual the mornings feel. How familiar her form is against his. Like two peas in a pod, warming in the sun.
Still she’s sketching.
“Do you need me to move where you can see me?“ he asks, still uncertain what to make of the silence between a muse and his artist. Is he supposed to entertain? To make small talk?
She shakes her head. “I have you in my mind.” She replies. Her eyes remain trained on the paper and Jean is glad for this because his face is hot and his heart is racing. “No peeking just yet…” she says. And he chuckles. He feels brave enough to drop a kiss on the top of his head, so he does just that before returning to his own drawing. But with one arm pinned under her, it’s really hard. No matter. This is just the interlude. The quiet before the day picks up again. And Marleyan days are long.
“Here…” she says, and when he looks down at her she’s looking up at him, eyes bright in anticipation. She moves her hands from the paper. And Jean sees himself through her eyes, through the abstract lines that make up the wiring of his muscle, and the ruggedness of his features, hardened in the war, yet softened by the little intimacies early mornings offer. Softened by her gaze.
“What do you think?” She says.
He’s still looking at the rough piece of paper- the one she turned into her canvass and immortalised him at his most vulnerable moment. Partly through sight, partly through memory. She could kill him now, she could. They had learnt this is when a man lets his guard down. During the interlude. His heart clenches.
“You’re really good.” He smiles and she snuggles in closer to him, shoulders relaxing.
It’s quiet for a while, and Jean assumes she’s falling asleep, but she opens her mouth to speak, her breath warm against his skin. She smells like plums. Right. They’re in season in Marley this time of year. She must’ve had one this morning while he was still asleep. Now he finds himself craving one.
“I walked in once on my father painting my mother. He likes to paint.” She says, a little playful, “I’ve never seen her move quite so fast.”
And Jean sees the picture Mikasa is painting of her life back home. Her parents and their beautiful daughter, Mikasa’s mother rushing to pull the sheets over her bare form, and her father making excuses. He laughs. He wonders how much of his future will look like this- children walking in on them, and them blushing and making half-baked excuses from under the sheets. He will promise them the world to never speak of this again.
“Can I see yours?” Mikasa gestures towards the paper pad on the bed stand and he holds it out of her reach.
“It’s bad. You’ll hate it.”
She laughs, “I won’t.” She says, strong and gentle and certain like oak against the wind.
When he shows it to her, she’s hiding her smile behind her hand. And it’s even more glaring to him now, how cartoonish his sketch is. “It’s bad isn’t it?” It looks like a child’s work.
“I like it.” She says, examining it closely one more time before she folds the piece of paper and slips it in the breast pocket of the shirt she’s wearing. “Keep it with you, so you’ll remember me.”
I remember regardless, he wants to say, I have you in my mind. But he doesn’t. Instead he sighs when she returns to the cradle of his arms again, pressing into his side, eyes trained toward the ceiling where the fan is. She remembers being amazed at the ceiling fan when they had first come. And now this miracle rests in the peripheries of her attention.
“It’s not an accurate representation,” he says, gaze following hers, watching the monotonous whirring of the ceiling fan. “I don’t think I did justice to your beauty.” God, he’s so embarrassed when he hears himself. He’ll think about this later when Connie teases him about the night before. When Connie asks “so what happened? Did you tell her how you feel?” And he has to remember this moment.
And when she gets up and takes the warmth with her, Jean thinks this is it, he’s done it this time, embarrassed himself and she has completely lost interest. But she’s rummaging through her satchel and she’s getting in under the duvet again. Oh.
“Here.” She says, and she’s leaning against his chest, averting his gaze. But he notices the pink in her cheeks, pretty like a sunset. He takes the card from her and realises it’s a photograph. They all had their photographs taken when they had arrived in Marley. “Headshots” they had called it. And Jean thinks that’s accurate to how one feels when being seen so plainly. He holds it closer to the sunbeam streaming through the curtains and he sees her, perched on the chair, a little stiff and uncertain, but she’s smiling at the camera. She’s so beautiful. Even now, roughened by war, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Softened by his affections, by the glow of the morning.
“It’s yours.” She says. God she’s so embarrassed when she hears herself. She’ll think about this later when Sasha teases her about the night before. When Sasha asks “so what happened? Do you know what you feel about him?” And she has to remember this moment.
Jean feels his heart clench. Tomorrow they may have to fight. If they’re lucky it might be the days that come after. But today the world around them is soft.
This is the interlude. And Jean’s favourite part of the day has always been- the interlude.
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Patch Me Up
Hello, I’m back friends!! Things have been so busy lately, but I couldn’t stay away for too long! Of course I wrote this at 11 pm instead of translating Homer like I was supposed to be lmao. This is probably terrible but I figured I’d post it bc why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!
Warnings: language, blood/injury, cheesy a$$ fluff
Note: This fic is aged up, as always!
Eyes heavy and muscles aching, you turn your key in the door.
The routine after a big fight was always the same: kick your shoes off, fumble through your dark apartment, and try not to think about whatever shitshow you just survived. But tonight, your side stung a little too much, and the blood seeping through your white t-shirt sent a shiver down your spine. Once you locked your door, you shuffled over to the bathroom sink to take inventory of your wounds. Lifting your shirt with a wince, your suspicions were confirmed. It was a shallow cut, you wouldn’t need stitches...but it was a pretty long gash, and it was definitely aggravated from rubbing against your shirt. In addition to the knife wound, you had a large bruise on your cheek, and your arms were peppered with little bruises from where the attacker grabbed you. Suddenly you froze, bile rising in your throat at the reminder of his pockmarked face and sadistic grin. Refusing to linger on the memory for too long, you splashed some water on your face, but grimaced when the action sent a searing pain into the laceration across your rib. Your vision turned white for a moment as you swayed, briefly losing your balance. Leaning your back against the bathroom wall for stability, you slid down to sit on the cold linoleum floor, head back, as you rubbed your knees in an effort to busy your shaking hands. Suddenly aware of hushed breathing coming from the doorway, you looked up, startled. To your surprise, Five Hargreeves stood in the doorway, watching you coolly. You two had a complicated relationship, constantly competing to be savior of the city. Over the 5 years you had known each other, you had never seen him smile; he was all business, all the time. What he was doing in your house on a Tuesday night, however, you couldn’t say. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt his eyes on you.
“What happened?” He asks after a pause.
“On my way home from work I saw the Baxter Street gang following a young woman down 5th avenue, and I tried to take them on my own.” You hesitated, your pride wounded. “...It didn’t go so well.”
Five rolled his eyes, and muttered, “Yeah, I can see that.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched as his gaze slid over you. You watched him back intensely, surprised to catch a momentary glimpse of alarm in his eyes as he took in your bloody shirt and bruised cheek.
“Stand up,” he commanded.
Confused but too tired to argue, you began to rise to your feet, but not without muttering an indignant “What are you even doing here?”
To your embarrassment, the moment you stepped away from the wall you faltered, and he blinked across the room to catch you before you hit the ground. With his left hand resting on your back, and his right gripping your hip beneath your shirt, he guided you to an upright position wordlessly.
Through your haze of pain, you noted deliriously that he was making a suspiciously low number of snide remarks about your current position.
He lifted you up effortlessly and sat you on the countertop.
“Can I take this off?” he motioned to your shirt. Trying very hard to ignore the blush spreading to his ears, you whispered a faint, “Yes.”
The electricity skyrocketed when your eyes met, the tension of the moment visible in the slope of your shoulders, and Five’s bobbing adam's apple.
In a swift motion, he lifted the shirt up and stoically began cleaning your wound. You searched for any sign of concern in his face, but he showed none. Silently he worked, your heavy breathing and the buzzing electric lights the only sounds in the bathroom. Once he had disinfected the gash and carefully wrapped bandages around your waist, he quickly straightened and removed his sweater. Clearing his throat, he looked away and said casually, “Put this on.”
However grateful you were for his first aid skills, you began to grow shy at Five’s unceremonious kindness towards you. Fidgeting with the hem of your bloodstained shirt, you stubbornly said, “Oh thanks, but I’m actually perfectly comfortable in this. It’s actually designer-”
“Put it on,” he interrupted, his tone rising. A voice crack betrayed his attempt at austerity as he reigned himself in once more: “I’m not going to ask again.”
He left you staring, sweater in hand, as he turned to face away from you.
“Fine, fine... Thank you,” you conceded. You slipped off your soiled shirt with a wince, and put on Five’s sweater. It was soft -really soft- and smelled like leather and pine. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
Echoing off the wall came a muffled and surprisingly gentle “You’re welcome.”
“You can turn around now, Robin Hood,” you called, in a half-hearted attempt at sarcasm. You had hoped that in using your usual nickname for him it would ease the tension in the room, but it did the opposite if anything. But maybe, you thought to yourself, the tension wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.
The two of you made your way to the couch in your living room, and within minutes Five had helped himself to your kitchen and returned with steaming mugs of tea.
Now you sat, side by side, staring into the swirling vapor rising from your cups.
Five broke the awkward silence: “You shouldn’t have tried to take on that gang by yourself, especially when you’re not prepared. That stab wound was worse than it looked, y/n. You could have been seriously hurt.” He hesitated,” Or worse.”
“Since when do you tell me what to do, Five?” you responded, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not my partner, you’re my competition. And what do you care, anyway? If I died, you’d have everything you ever wanted! They’d hand you the fucking key to the city!” Your emotions overtook you, exhaustion having decimated any boundaries you might have clung to otherwise. “So why the hell are you on my couch, and why am I wearing your sweater, and why does it smell so good?”
Shit.
To your surprise, Five Hargreeves laughed. He sat in front of you, mug of peppermint tea in hand, laughing. Miracles do happen, you joked to yourself, awestruck.
His laughter slowed, and your face burned bright red in the soft glow of your table lamp.
“Do you really not know why I’m here?” he asked in a low voice, suddenly more serious.
You shivered.
Closing the distance of the couch, he reached out and caressed the bruise on your cheek after a brief moment of hesitation. The uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes made yours shimmer with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. It had been a long time since anyone looked at you like that.
“I’m here because not only would I care if you fell into harm’s way, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It’s impossible not to notice you when we’re both out there, trying to keep everyone safe. You’re brave, and strong, and kind. To be honest, you’re the reason I keep fighting for this city, your selfless desire to protect and care for others...I just never knew how to tell you. It didn’t seem right. But when I heard you had gotten hurt, I imagined the worst, and I just... well, I just had to tell you.”
Your heart swelled, and suddenly he was kissing your lips, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek. One hand rested on your thigh, and his other was combing through your hair. The moment was tender and new and so very fragile, the opposite of everything you had known about Five Hargreeves. He shifted his position and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the bruise on your cheek. You leaned into him, finally allowing yourself to give in to your fatigue from the evening’s events. Five quietly took you into his arms and began rubbing your back, calming you even further.
Normally physical touch made you shrink up, but somehow the man beside you was learning how to break down your barriers at lightning speed. Perhaps you had been closer to each other than you realized for quite some time.
In all the excitement, you felt your eyelids begin to flutter closed as you fought to stay awake.
“Darling,” Five whispered, “You can fall asleep, it’s okay. Let’s just rest.”
That was all that you needed to hear. You drifted off in his arms, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath you. The stinging in your side drifted to a dull ache, and your tight muscles began to slowly unwind themselves as you slept. And it felt good.
Now that you know what it’s like to be taken care of by someone, you don’t think you can ever go back to your old “post-fight” routine.
Five knows you won’t have to.
#five hargreeves#number five#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves imagine#five Hargreeves fanfic#five hargreeves fluff#tua fanfiction#umbrella academy#soft five#five x reader fluff#can you tell i like sleepy fluff scenes
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Distractions and O.W.L.S ✧ Draco x Reader
Summary: You start neglecting yourself and Draco when you begin stressing for O.W.L.S. The studying finally took its toll on you that landed you in the hospital wing but Draco helps you end the night on a good note.
Warnings and Perks: being stressed, over studying, fainting ! and corniness
Words: 2K (sorry for any mistakes its 3 AM !!!!!)
A/N: omg i am currently working on some requests and on Healing Heart 4, but i’ve had this scenario stuck in my head all night bc i was listening to a slowed down version of stuff we did from UP and so i thought id share it with everyone since i havent posted in like 2 days <3 do not own gif but pretend that you and Dracoooo <3
It was the beginning of June, weeks away from O.W.L.S, which meant weeks away from another ending of a school year at Hogwarts. What bothered you the most wasn’t the fact that you had homework piled up to the ceilings, or that Snape has been snapping at you all week and took away 5 house points from you, or that you were drowning in a sea of textbooks and notes that you kept studying for your upcoming exams; it was the fact that you had barely seen Draco in nearly two weeks. You were so busy with schoolwork and focused on getting outstanding marks, you hadn’t even realized you were neglecting your own boyfriend.
Of course, the two of you would find each other in the Great Hall during breakfast and you’d give him a quick hello and goodbye kiss faster than he could even register what was happening and by the time he did, you were already out the door and rushing towards your first class. At this point, you were acting like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, always frantic and in a rush. Your hair was wild and untamed, you had dark bags under your eyes from the all-nighters you were pulling, your robes and clothes underneath were in disarray and wrinkled.
To make it worse, you never let Draco study with you. He constantly asked and you always gave him the same answer.
“If I study with you, I’ll never get anything done.”
Which was true. He was very distracting with his quiet jokes in the library, or when he would look up at you with his sparkling gray eyes when you would try to ask him a question that just flew from your mind at the sight, or smile at you with a wide toothy grin that lit up the room when you got sidetracked and talked to him, or the way he rested his hand on your thigh when he would sit beside you while you quietly read or wrote but the only thing you could focus on was his fiery touch. Really, it wasn’t him who would distract you; it was you who distracted yourself with him. And that was evident when you tried to remember everything you’ve learned in the past school term and came up blank because for some reason your brain only retained information and memories that contained Draco throughout the past year.
So you figured a little time away from him wouldn’t hurt. Because if you didn’t pass these O.W.L.S, you felt like everyone would be disappointed in you, especially yourself. So you locked yourself away in your dorm and crammed and jam-packed your brain with information until you eventually passed out hunched over a book with drool blurring the ink on your pages. You avoided the library for studying, knowing Draco would go looking for you or Madam Pince would distract you halfway through your note taking to kick you out for the night.
Mornings always came the same, you waking up randomly over your desk a few minutes before breakfast and changing into a new pair of robes as quickly as you could while trying your best to smooth your hair down with your hands. This morning was different, however. You woke up to one of your roommates shaking you violently while she spoke your name loudly above you, but it sounded distant. You shot up in a hot flash, wiping your mouth of any saliva and groaning when you started to feel the pounding in your head that seemed to shake up your whole brain.
“Thank Merlin, you’re awake!” Your roommate exclaimed in relief. “You looked dead, honestly. But class is starting in twenty and you’ve missed breakfast.”
“Twenty?” you frown, letting your swelling head fall into your hands. “I don’t want to deal with Snape right now, I feel awful.”
“I’m going to try to say this as nice as possible,” she sighs, placing a hand on your shoulder, “but it shows.”
“Thanks,” you scowl. You try to get up from your chair but gasp in pain as your muscles cramp at the movement like a rickety old man.
“Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” she suggests, trying to help you up but you shoo her.
“No, I’m fine,” you rush to interject. “I will not be missing Potions, no.”
She gave you a shrug, backing away in defeat as she let you rush to change into new robes and attempt to brush down the matted mess that’s supposed to be your hair but gave up halfway through and threw it into an updo. The headache was not a good combination with the scalp pain from combing out knots. Your roommate waited for you with pitied eyes, following closely behind you as you hurried out of the room and towards the exit.
You sped walked out with her but didn’t see the mop of platinum blond that was waiting for you outside the entrance of the common room. You had zero awareness of his presence until his hand had reached out to hold onto your wrist, stopping your near sprint towards the class. Your roommate stopped too, eyeing the two of you and the look on the Slytherin’s face before she continued walking.
“What? Draco, let go,” you move away from him and he quickly drops your arm. “I’m going to be late.”
You began to walk away from him, but he stepped in front of you, stopping you again.
“Why weren’t you at breakfast?”
“I overslept,” you answered gruffly. “Now, move! If I’m late, Snape will have my head on a stick.”
“Y/N, you need to slow down,” he frowns, “all this studying and rushing around everywhere is going to land you in the hospital wing. You look sick already, I’m worried.”
“I’m not sick!” You huff, throwing your head back in irritation. “If you really cared about me, you’d let me go to class instead of insulting me.”
“I’m not insulting you. Am I so terrible to tell you that you look like you’re about to pass out any second?”
“Yes, you are terrible,” you sneer, the pounding in your head was getting stronger each passing second. “Instead of-”
Your train of thought was violently stopped in its angry tracks, you stumble back and begin blinking hard at the spots that quickly started to dot your vision. Your hand instinctively reached out towards Draco, which he grabbed and hurriedly darted forward towards you, gripping onto you before you could meet the ground, your vision going black and your consciousness out the door.
Draco felt himself begin to panic. He promptly began to feel guilty, feeling like it was his fault that you even fainted in the first place because of the argument he had accidentally started.
He gathered you up in his arms, one arm sliding under your knees and the other under your neck as he swiftly picked you up and began his frantic journey towards the hospital wing.
When he got you to Madam Pomfrey, she instructed him to set you down on one of the beds and kicked him out of the room while she started her treatment. His heart was beating so fast, he wanted nothing more than to stay by your side so he halfheartedly threatened her with his father and she ended up letting him stay with a deep sigh while he stood idly by your bed. When Madam Pomfrey was done, she left the two of you alone. Draco wasted no time in sitting at the foot of your bed, his hand finding its way into your cold one that laid limply beside you. He watched your sleeping figure with a relief as he noticed that whatever Pomfrey gave you had speedily began to affect you. Your skin no longer looked ghastly and dull, but healthy again and tinged with pink. The dark circles underneath your eyes had faded just a little bit, leaving only slight bags as you finally slept.
He waited maybe 12 hours for you to wake up. After missing his first class, he had decided to go to the rest of his classes as Madam Pomfrey swore to him up and down that you would not wake up any earlier. He begrudgingly obliged and skipped all his meals instead to spend his short free time with you. When his final class ended, he almost ran back to the hospital wing. He occupied the rest of his time with a book he had found thrown somewhere around the room. The book was long forgotten the second he felt your hand twitch and your body begin to stir, your tired e/c’s looking around the room in confusion before landing on him. He scooted himself closer to you, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face as he looked at you with pure concern. It was the same look he had when he confronted you earlier and with that one look, you were able to recall everything that had happened before your collapse.
“I’m sorry I said you’re terrible,” you croak out sadly, your hand wrapping around his wrist and squeezing it gently.
“I’m sorry I made you faint,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“That was my own fault,” you chortle, “but I feel really good. I know I fainted and all, but I feel much better with whatever Madam Pomfrey gave me.”
“I can tell,” he smiles, moving himself a little back as you sat up with a newfound strength. “She said you can leave when you wake up.”
“Good, now help me out of this bed.”
Draco took your hand and you hopped out of bed excitedly, turning towards him and giving him a tight hug that he returned twice as hard.
“If you’re not too tired, can I show you something?” He asks from above you, his arms still wrapped strongly around you.
“Yes, please,” you answer with a nod against his chest.
Draco steps away from you before taking your hand and walking the two of you out of the hospital wing and towards the stairs that led to the astronomy tower. When you reached the top, huffing, and puffing, he asked you again if you were okay to which you answered with an eager nod.
"Tonight is a blood moon,” he smiles, pointing up towards the very large orange and reddish moon in the starry night sky. It shone brightly but still gave off little light in its wake, the astronomy tower was almost dark, but you still managed to see the blond perfectly, he was watching you with a happy and loving glint in his eyes that you were able to notice. “I was planning on asking you to see it with me tonight, but we kind of ended up elsewhere.”
You threw yourself into his arms, your face buried deep in his robes and the heat radiating off his chest warmed you up in the comfiest way.
“You’re the best, Dray,” you mumble into the cloth of his robes, the clothing vibrating underneath you as he chuckled. You pulled away and gazed up at him, smiling when he placed a kiss on your forehead.
The two of you unknowingly began to sway back in forth in each other’s arms, his hands resting on your lower back while yours were looped loosely around the back of his neck.
“You scared me today,” he begins quietly, “and every day since you’ve started your studying.”
“I know,” you frown, “I’m sorry.”
“Promise me you’ll stop overworking yourself,” he says softly. “I know you’re scared you’ll fail, but I promise you won’t. You’re one of the smartest people I know and I know you’ll get outstanding marks on everything.”
“You think so?” you ask hopefully, your eyes trained on the burnt orange moon as you took in his words.
“I know so.”
A few more minutes of silence pass by, your head now leaning against his chest as the two of you still danced silently. And as if he read your mind, Draco began humming a soft and off-pitch rendition of Claire de Lune. You would laugh every time he forgot a note and would go silent for a moment before backtracking and humming it correctly.
You don’t know how long the two of you stayed up there dancing slowly in each other’s arms with Draco trying his best to hum the top classics of the classical’s, his lips finding yours every now and then to kiss you longingly and tenderly, but one thing was for sure; it was bliss.
Maybe distracting yourself with Draco wasn’t such a bad thing.
#draco malfoy#draco lucius malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader#draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader#draco malfoy x gryffindor#draco malfoy x slytherin#draco x reader#draco x y/n#draco x you#draco malfoy fluff#draco malfoy angst#draco malfoy blurb#draco malfoy drabble#harry potter writing#harry potter imagine#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fandom#harry potter
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if you're still accepting prompts, could you do "shh, it’s okay. it was just a dream"?
always, anon <3 and it's funny u should suggest that prompt bc i just wrote something for it a few weeks ago! and you can find it here, already on ao3
so now, u have two for the price of one :') that fic was a young!riza pov, so how about a post-canon roy pov this time? tysm for the prompt and the ask!!!
rated: t | words: 1819 | tags: nightmares, angst, hurt/comfort, post-canon, royai, promised day memories
read on ao3
Roy’s body jerked violently in his bed. His legs kicked outwards, shifting the sheet off of his searing skin and knocking it onto the floor. The cool night air blanketed his body instantly, trying, but ultimately failing, to ease his distress. His dream continued to linger painfully, jolting him upright into a seated position, causing both hands to land flat by his sides to maintain some semblance of balance while his head swung from left to right, searching the inky black stretching out before him. Roy saw nothing, which only made him panic even more.
Am I blind again?
The thought appeared unbidden in his mind. A part of him knew he wasn’t, but he was so disorientated and startled by his nightmare that he seriously considered it. He couldn’t go through that again, though. The dream couldn’t have been real. No, he couldn’t be blind. This couldn’t be happening again –
A light flicked on inside the room, making him pause for a second. He blinked, seeing his legs and the rest of his bed stretched out before him, reaching towards the pale blue wall.
He was in his bedroom, not sitting on cold, brown bricks, devoid of any comfort or warmth.
A dream… It was just a dream.
Roy exhaled sharply and took another deep breath, gulping down the air as reality slowly started to trickle back to him. The second exhale left him at a slower pace, but it still rattled passed his lips as he tried to stop terror from constricting his heart painfully. Heat flashed across his brow and chest and that’s when Roy noticed the sweat. He was drenched in it, courtesy of the fear that still lingered inside of him.
“Roy?”
The voice was quiet and thick with sleep as she called to him. At first it was surprised, but then instantly alert. Not that Roy could focus on anything outside of the horrifying images – and also memories – still in his mind’s eye, but if he could, he’d have noticed the mattress shift next to him and dip as she sat up immediately, eyeing him with concern.
She had surely caught onto what had happened. To what had made him react so badly in the middle of the night. Roy knew he must have looked a state, and that was what had probably given him away, but he didn’t care, because she was okay. She hadn’t been hurt. She wasn’t dead. They were both safe in his apartment together, out of harm’s way and far away from any kind of danger.
Roy slumped back against his pillows and draped an arm across his eyes. His chest was still heaving with his breath while he struggled to get it under control and wetness seeped out from beneath his lids, dampening the skin of his forearm and wrist. The tears had followed him from his dream to a conscious state and Roy clamped his eyelids closed tightly, willing them to stop so he could try and get a handle on his emotions.
Shame flushed through him. Not because someone was there to witness his struggle, for he would lay himself bare for her without question. It was because he’d fallen for a trap. It had been a trick by the enemy. Even if it was a dream, it had cost him dearly, and his Lieutenant had paid the price for his failings. It had caused turmoil and upset to follow him to his waking sate, affecting him so deeply that when he awoke, he still couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. The vividness of it had left him completely stricken.
His Lieutenant had almost died on him before, all those years ago, and his mind had decided to make him relive it, out of the blue, exaggerating all that happened and making it so much worse.
Nightmares were like old friends to Roy, but they were still a struggle. They never really got any easier to deal with or experience. Especially when they were as intense as this one had been. Especially when they involved her dying, either in his arms because he was too late, or while he was restrained by the enemy, unable to comfort her, get help for her, or save her.
Those were the worst ones.
A palm was placed gently atop his head. He flinched at the unexpected contact and his body tensed. Then, fingers came to rest upon his scalp gently and a thumb stroked over his forehead, right between his eyebrows. It moved repeatedly in a calming motion, relaxing his tightly wound muscles, and causing his mind to falter and trip at its racing speed once or twice.
Her touch brought him back down to earth.
“Shh,” she soothed him, “it's okay. It was just a dream.”
Her comfort was incredibly welcoming as her hands combed through his damp hair without protest or complaint. He could feel it clinging uncomfortably to his face and the back of his neck, but Riza freed him from it. The wet strands were pushed away from his cheeks and ears, making him sigh quietly as he started to feel some relief. Her voice was heaven-sent in that moment of strife for him. A buoy in raging waves; something to cling on to so he could survive and get his bearings. It was like a light rain falling over embers of pain of sorrow, washing them away like a salve being applied atop the charred ground.
She was his rescuer from the darkest confines of his own mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Her question was incredibly quiet, so she didn’t startle him.
Always so incredibly perceptive and considerate of others.
Roy shook his head and let out a shaky breath. If he opened his mouth his voice would break. He wasn’t ready to reveal all. He would happily tell Riza Hawkeye everything, but he couldn’t just yet. Not when he’d failed her. Again. Not when his mind was happily reminding him of that fact.
Shame flushed through him once more like an unforgiving storm surge.
“Take your time,” she announced emphatically. “I’m right here.”
And that’s all Roy ever needed.
He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around her waist. Riza had sat up in bed and remained there, watching over him as he tried to calm himself. His face was buried into her stomach as desperate hands clung to the shirt on her back. Riza placed both hands atop his head and stilled, letting him get comfortable before she moved them again. They continued to comb through his hair soothingly, offering a comfort only she could ever give him.
“It was a nightmare,” he mumbled against her. “Promised Day.”
Riza’s hands stilled for a second after his reveal, then continued their ministrations.
“I see.”
Roy nodded against her. They were well aware of how each other had struggled while sleeping in the aftermath of that day.
“It was…” He took a deep breath. “You,” he exhaled, as if that would answer all of her questions at once. And Roy knew it would. “What happened to you that day. And I… I was stuck. I couldn’t do anything –” Roy snapped his mouth shut, remembering seeing the light leave her eyes so clearly inside his nightmare, like a safety beacon that had winked out, leaving only darkness, despair, and horror in its wake.
“It’s okay,” she reassured. Her tone said it all. She sounded pained, knowing exactly how he’d suffered because his poor, broken, explanation had been enough for her to conclude what he’d seen in his dream.
“I was too late,” he whispered. It sounded deafening in the quiet of his bedroom.
Riza was silent as she continued to run her hands through his hair. She didn’t comment, but in some way that was worse. Roy scrunched his eyes up tightly for a few seconds before relaxing, pulling away from her.
He’d failed her again.
He didn’t get to retreat far, though. Riza’s hands followed his movements to the letter, anticipating them perfectly, moving from being buried within his hair to cupping his cheeks. She gently guided his face upwards, so it was finally facing her. Finally looking her in the eye. Fear licked around his stomach, twisting it, suddenly afraid of judgement for his lack of support. It was irrational – Riza Hawkeye would never do such a thing – but he was still shaken and distraught.
What Roy found made his breath catch. Her smile was small and soft. It was so her – nothing too flashy, but reserved and fiercely loving, just like the look in her eyes. It was a smile she saved only for him.
His breath hitched again.
“You weren’t too late, remember?” Her head shook from side to side slowly as she attempted to dispel his anxiety. Her hands dropped and latched onto one of his, guiding it upwards so it now rested over her beating heart.
The feeling was strong beneath his scarred palms, thumping inside of her with such strength – the same attitude she embodied every day in everything she did. Steady, dependable, and courageous.
“Like always, I’m right here. I’m never going anywhere.”
Roy leaned forwards quickly, overcome with impulse, and claimed her lips with his own. A hand buried into her short hair, cupping the back of her neck tenderly as he kissed her with such reverence and adoration.
“Thank you,” he breathed. His hand shifted on her chest to become more comfortable when his fingers bumped into and grazed over something solid and misshapen underneath her shirt.
Roy blinked, then slowly smiled knowingly. Riza returned it, realising what he’d discovered, but she also looked pleased his heartache had been banished and eased for a brief second.
It was the wedding ring he’d given her years ago, attached to her dog tags. The one that was identical to his own.
It was a reminder that they were tied together completely, and always would be. They’d set themselves on a path they could not deviate from, it was absolute, and they must succeed, but they’d do it together. They would remain as one throughout it all.
Their foreheads tipped together, coming to rest quietly against one another and Roy focussed on the sound of her breathing and the feeling of the ring. He tethered himself to them both, slowing his own breaths to match hers.
She was right there by his side, like she always was and had promised she'd be, so long ago. The odds had almost pulled them apart once before but hadn’t succeeded. Roy wouldn’t let his dreams get the better of him either. There were always demons to fight, but Roy was thankful he had her watching over him, and vice versa. There was no one else in the world he’d trust to watch his back. And they’d fight them all together, side by side. Unyielding and relentless.
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F*cked Out 💤
Ojiro Aran Domestic Smut (NSFW) part 2
A/N: I wrote this as a Part 2 to this fic, but it can be read as a stand alone!
18+, Explicit smut, praise kink, Aged up obvs, Timeskip spoilers
Tagging: @saitamastamaticsoup & @chunhua-s b/c these Aran stans found part 1 last night & their comments made me thirsty enough to write a pt. 2. Hope you like it!
also my lovely @qyuanon who I just read is back and I missed her💛
Futilely, you knocked on the door to yours and your man’s home office. Leaning on the frame, you crossed your arms. Being a literal isolationist when you had to work, you never understood why your man liked keeping the office door open. But then he told you once that he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t hear you calling him if the door was closed. ‘What if something happened and I didn’t run to you?’ He had explained, pouting when you laughed at him. It warmed your heart, but you decided not to call his name tonight, instead opting to physically pay him a visit. You had to, because what lead you here in the first place was serious! You had just woken up in the middle of the night because his side of the bed had turned cold. Yeah, that deserved nothing less than a visit from you!
From your spot in the doorway you could see Ojiro sitting at the grand desk, his back turned to you, the lights from his laptop playing some Team Canada highlights. The screen bluelight shone brightly on his gorgeous dark skin, the back of his head bobbed up and down as he dutifully wrote down any important plays he was seeing so that he could tell his coach tomorrow.
“Babe,” You announced your presence with a soft smile. Your man is such a hard worker and he really doesn’t get enough credit for it. You tighten the robe you were wearing because it was always kind of drafty on this side of the house. “You have a game tomorrow.”
Your boyfriend, captain of the Japanese National Volleyball Team’s shoulders slumped when he heard you, but he didn’t turn around.
He didn’t have to.
He never had to. Even though you’ve only been dating for a bit over a year, you two knew each other so well that you could accurately tell exactly what kind of expressions, feelings, and thoughts permeated the other without having to be vis-a-vis. When you first met, your dates were—objectively speaking—oddly silent for the most part. The waitress once asked you if you were uncomfortable through an inconspicuous napkin note, which was kind of her—but the truth was that on that date you were actually more than Okay! It might have seemed odd to an outsider or eavesdropper that no sentences were being finished, and both people on said date were constantly staring down, away, or into each others eyes in silence… but realistically, neither of them could grasp the fact that words weren’t necessary when there existed a connection like yours and Aran’s.
‘It’s fate. He’s the one.’ You had told your friends after the second date when you realized your mind reading wasn’t a fluke. Because as corny as it sounded then and even now in your memory; it was true, tf.
Doesn’t mean you weren’t going to kick his ass for letting his side of the bed go cold, though. You were used to Aran being gone for volleyball so you had no problem falling asleep alone, but when you were ecstatic to have him home it was important for him to REMAIN home, which means staying in bed if you fell asleep on his chest! He has never done it before, so This is not Okay!
“I know, baby, I know…” your boyfriend calls to you, scribbling on his notepad faster. “I’m almost done. I-I think their setter could be doing one of two plays to start tomorrow, and I don’t think it’s the one I was sure about before we went to bed. And I mean, we play them until 12pm, so—“
“So nothing. You still have to be up by 6. The stadium is far and knowing you, you won’t sleep on the Team’s bus, you’ll still be watching these videos even then. I’ll—“
“Please don’t tell Iwaizumi-san, he will kick my ass! We’re playing Team Canada tomorrow and they are ranked just under us but—“
“Not by a lot, I know. I understand, but you guys will still pull the win. I know it....because Your team has you.”
Aran chuckled heartily, continuing to scribble with his back still turned, but his voice turned a little more endearing. “Thank you, baby. But.... I can’t seem to sleep tonight... I just can’t. I’ve been up this whole time so I—” As your boyfriend babbled on, you quietly interjected,
“I know a way to get you to sleep.”
“—won’t use my laptop in bed and wake you up when you’re sleeping so….wait….what did you—?”
You smirked, knowing that your man knew why your voice had dropped a few octaves. He knew you were up to something, not because you two could practically read each other’s minds—moreso because you two had already established that that specific tone of voice of yours made his dick hard. The pen he was scribbling with stopped moving, finally, and you could just picture the way he gulped just now.
“I know you can’t sleep, Ar…..” You made sure he could hear you clearly now, in the voice you only reserved for fuck-me-o’clock.
A sexy smirk that Ojiro could see without looking at you played in his mind and on your face simultaneously.
“Yeah?” He asked, his deep voice cracking.
You kept speaking in that voice with one goal in mind.
“Yes, baby…” You hummed thoughtfully before stating,
“So why don’t you come over here and fuck me so hard it puts you to bed, then?”
Drunk off horniness caused by the amount sex dripping from your voice, the captain of Japan’s National Volleyball Team slowly turned the office chair so that he was facing you.
Boldly, you turned your back to him at the same time and fiddled your hands that just tightened your robe. This time, instead of tightening it, you loosened the strings fully so your robe was wide open, facing the emptiness of your house. Knowing that your boyfriend was checking out and admiring your ass in that short silk robe and desiring the shock factor—in one motion you tossed the robe over your shoulders so that it pooled at your feet, exposing your completely nude back and backside to your man.
“🤤 Shit,” Ojiro groaned, sounding as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. You just knew your man was biting that full and juicy bottom lip of his.
Swaying your hips to give your man a tiny show, you sauntered precisely where he didn’t want you to: away from him; heading towards the master bedroom.
You kept yourself from giggling when you heard the aggressive shutting of a laptop, a volleyball announcer being cut off, and a certain volleyball player’s stumbling and cursing because Ojiro was practically chasing you out of the office.
***
“Mmmm…. Fuck..”
A few minutes later, your mind displayed a valiant effort by attempting to guess how your boyfriend looked right now, but it would be in vain. You couldn’t picture your man like you usually could because you were currently being fucked way too fucking well. Ojiro was filling you completely with just half his length, whispering horny-nothings to help you understand his feelings anyway:
“God damn, Y/N… Every. Time. Feels. So. God. Damn. Good,”
Now, If your mind was clear you’d be able to perfectly visualize how Ojiro’s face was scrunched up in pleasure right now, a coat of sweat coating his nude dark skin, the skylight over his head allowing the moon to reflect an insanely sexy glow sheen over his muscles due to the perspiration.
“Auuh there’s nothing better than this, baby…”
If your mind was clear you’d be able to perfectly visualize how Ojiro’s head was tilted backwards right now, his mouth slightly ajar as he focused on not cumming inside you within the first few minutes of this because he needed to feel you cum around him first. As always.
“Not when I hitting a line shot, not when I get a service ace.... nothing feels—auuuh f-uck— better than your pussy, baby girl..…”
If your mind was clear, you’d be able to see Ojiro on his knees behind you, holding your hips in his giant hands while he drove into you from behind, inserting only half his cock in and out like a pro, then surprising you with a fully thrust every now and then when he sheathed all 10 inches inside your heat.
“Mmm, so ti-ight, always so wet… damn,”
Despite your mind being clouded by immense pleasure, however—you did know that you looked absolutely wrecked with your face pressed in the pillow, blindly reaching behind you to tap or wave or pinch or do something to him since you couldn’t speak. You could barely made any sounds other than choked out moans because it felt so spectacular… but you didn’t have to! Aran knew that you wanted your boyfriend to stop playing and give you full strokes. His half thrusts filled and pleasured you more than any one ever could because he was huge and skilled in bed, he knew just how your insides liked to be stroked, but that didn’t stop you from silently pleading to him..
Even if Ojiro wasn’t holding back like always because he was very aware of his size and girth, even if you both knew that it would hurt you the next day like after a good workout, even if you walked funny when you had to attended his Olympic game several hours from now—you fucking needed it.
HE fucking needed it!
“Harder, Ar,” You commanded, “Deeper!”
“Fuck,” Your boyfriend panted, still not giving you what you asked 7 amazing strokes later.
“Harder, now!” You cried as if you were whispering to the fucking pillow. You hadn’t the strength to lift your head. Your orgasm was fast approaching because HALF your man’s dick was too good and there was no way you weren’t bringing him with you. “Deeper, baby!”
“Y-you su-sure?” He asked worriedly. He always did this shit 🙄. He always worried way too much about your body soreness and way too little about both of your impending orgasms tonight rocking your motherfucking worlds.
Ugh!
Good boyfriends and their fucked up PRIORITIES, amirite?!
Needless to say, you didn’t have time for compassionate Aran tonight. You needed him to fuck the both of you to sleep the way you knew he was capable of if he stopped holding back. Besides, he should have been in bed hours ago. You had to do this for the sake of the National Team! You had to this for JAPAN! (A/N: lucky b*tch shut your horny ass up)
So that’s why, in response to his asking if you were sure or not, you responded by clenching your insides so that your slick hole squeezed around your boyfriend’s cock.
As soon as he felt you pulsing impossibly tighter around him as he fucked you halfway, his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck…” He moaned deeply, so of course you continued doing it.
“Shit, Y/N, Okay, Okay,”
Without having to beg for mercy, your man did as you asked him to. He moved his hands from your waist to splay them on each of your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to make more room for his member that already barely fit (with your hasty prep and not his tentative one), but especially when your pussy clenched around him like that. With a loud moan from both of you, he bottomed out and stayed there for a bit to get you used to the size. You almost passed out by how good it felt pressing against your g-spot.
When Aran couldn’t take it anymore, and he started giving it to you: hard, fast, and deep.
“Ye, baby, make room for me just like this…..” He moaned, gripping your ass tighter. “You want all of me? You think your tight hole can handle all of me?” He asked, no growled, still giving shallow but gratifying thrusts.
You whimpered, knowing that Ojiro knew the answer to that. Even so, you egged him on, “Sh-Show me why you’re the best top,” playing into your dirty talk from the last time y’all had sex like this but he was under you.
Your boyfriend let out a long groan in his smooth deep voice and picked up his pace in reaponse, sending a new wave of wetness to your private. You were so soaked down there that it sounded like y’all were having sex in the bath tub, fuck.
Your man loved it.
“Mmmm, —m’ close beautiful,” He called, snapping his hips forward to meet you g-spot again and again. “It’s you, baby, it’s you,” Your man groaned. “Your pussy feels too fucking good……. I’d never pull out if I had to co-couldd,”
“Oh, God. Aran!" You moaned loudly due to his dirty talk and praise, teetering on the edge of your release. Knowing that you maybe had 30 seconds left if you focused, you must have decided that you didn’t want to walk tomorrow at all because being the weakness of your bf you are, from your position being pounded into the sheets, you propped yourself up on your weak arms so that you could use the fact that your elbows were digging into the mattress as leverage to push your body back so that you met Aran’s deep thrusts.
Like your boyfriends does every rare time he’s able to see your glorious ass bounce on his hard dick, his eyes flew open and he felt as though he’d been transported to heaven itself.
“Y/N—auh, s-so sexy, aah, ooh, ohhh, fuck, Y/N,”
entranced, Aran couldn’t even last another second before he was stopping your movements with his hands, sliding them back on your hips to hold you still as his orgasm took his muscular frame by storm. He saw stars.
Of course, his orgasm triggered yours immediately, and you cried your man’s name as you came on his dick. He whispered yours as your insides milked him without influence this time, effectively lengthening your man’s finish. Panting, Aran just barely caught himself before his now exhausted body toppled over you.
His last wakeful act, being the gentleman that he is, was to roll over so he wouldn’t crush you with his body weight, pulling out at the same time.
You wondered if he registered that he said, “thank you baby,” before he began softly snoring—a sign that he was completely worn out and sleeping.
You smiled softly to yourself when you heard his snores, finally turning when you caught your own breath, to fully see your boyfriend’s stunning face. You endearingly brushed his goatee with the tips of your fingers, turning his sleeping face to yours so you could peck his lips. Then, you just barely had the leg strength to stand up on limbs that barely worked, removing his condom for him, then using the furniture in your room to support you as you cleaned the two of you up. You almost fell asleep standing up as you used a cloth on the two of you. Five minutes later, you were back in bed, under the covers with your lover and amazing man.
Usually, Ojiro Aran slept like the dead (when he first moved in you occasionally have to check if he was still breathing...) , but you knew now that if he snored, that was a sign that he was so fatigued. You knew about the snoring, but the talking was new to you. Ojiro was so deep in his sleep after that round, that he was talking to himself in his slumber, whispering sweet-nothings about you that you’d never let him know he vocalized to spare him the embarrassment.
Besides, he didn’t say anything too embarrassing.... and you knocked out as soon as your head met his chest, not even feeling his arm sweetly wrap around your waist to pull you closer. So, you didn’t even hear most of his sleep-talk.
And maybe you were right when you called it fate, that drove the two of you.... because if it wasn’t fate that had you place your head on Aran’s chest at that exact moment, if it wasn’t fate that made you fall asleep at that exact moment..... then, I mean, you would have heard Ojiro not a second later declare aloud that he’s hiding your engagement ring in the office’s cabinet drawer. You would have heard theis the real reason he wasn’t able to fall asleep: because he was so nervous about asking for your hand in marriage before his Japan vs. Canada game tomorrow, when you least expected it.
Cause like, well, that totally would have ruined the surprise.
But you did fall asleep. Fate did that. So him sleep talking honestly never really happened.
And you know what else never happened?
You never had to feel the cold side of the bed again where your man should be, at least not that night, because Aran Ojiro your new fiancée’s body kept it warm all night, because you were great and helping him fall asleep like a baby....making him just that:
f*cked out.
#ojiro aran#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu aran#hq imagines#haikyuu!!#hq headcanon#haikyuu headcannons#inarizaki
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Loki x Pompeii!Reader
It's the Pompeii prompt, but really I wrote it as an excuse to have Loki be shirtless in a hot tub.
No regerts
-
The rush of blood filled your ears, drowning out the crowd around you. Your feet pounding on stone and your ragged breathing the only other noise you could make out as raced through the throngs of people.
Risking a glance over your shoulder, you saw the beast of a man was still after you.
Swallowing hard, your throat dry and burning, you forced your attention forward again.
Ducking around stalls and market vendors, past people and animals alike. On, he pursued you.
The wind was knocked out of you as you felt yourself collide with something solid. You had risked another glance back and did not see the sudden appearance of a man before you. To your surprise though, as the man knocked the wind out of you, catching you in his arms, he shifted his hold on you and spun you about. He had one hand on your upper back and another on your hip. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest, despite his strange clothes.
For just a moment though, as he held you in your arms, slowing your momentum, you spun around. But in that precious time, you gazed up into his face and met his eyes as he stared back at you. The two of you shared a stunned look.
The man had strange green eyes, sharp cheeks, black wavy hair and a tall forehead. He stared at you with an intensity like no other. His thin, pale lips parted slightly as he looked at you clearly confused.
Your face must have mirrored his.
The two of you stopped spinning.
He didn’t move his hands.
Nor did you. The strange material felt so odd under your hands and if you were being honest the broadness of his chest and the muscles… You felt your cheeks heat up and forced yourself to pull back.
A smirk crossed this strange man’s face as he gazed down at you, finally letting go of you.
“Loki! What are you doing? We’re not supposed to interact with the locals, you’re going to mess the timeline up even more.”
You looked over as a man with grey hair and similar clothes came running around the corner.
“Loki?” You asked.
“I am.” Loki smiled, seeming to like you saying his name. “And she ran into me, I merely prevented us from falling over.”
Abruptly you recalled why you were running.
Loki looked at you, seeming ready to ask you that same question.
Before you could speak, the beast of a man finally arrived, charging into the alleyway that the three of you were tucked away in. “Come here, you’re mine.” He reached for your wrist and you tugged away, kicking him as hard as you could. The brute snarled, holding up his hand to strike you with the back of it.
Loki stepped forward and caught it, “That’s enough.”
“Loki…” The grey haired man warned softly. “You know what’s going to happen, just let history progress as it should.”
“I won’t stand idly by and let thugs like this exist.” Loki responded coolly.
You looked between the men fearfully.
Loki held your gaze, “You’re safe, trust me.”
Slowly you nodded.
“Give me it, Mobius.”
“No.”
“Give me it or I’m taking it.”
“I’ll have to report you for defiance in the field.”
“Would you really do that?”
The man, Mobius, sighed, “Loki. Please.”
Still gripping the brute’s wrist, Loki held out his hand towards Mobius. Mobius sighed heavily and tossed a little box to Loki. Loki took the box and touched it to the brute’s arm. There was a soft whir and a flash of fire sparks and then… the brute was gone.
You squeaked, pulling away.
Loki lunged towards you, tossing the box in the same movement back to Mobius. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He said soothingly, “You’re fine, you’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.”
Held by both of Loki’s strong hands, you realized that despite what you had just seen, you did feel safe. Slowly you nodded.
Loki exhaled softly, a smile spreading on his face. “Now then.” He stepped back, removing his hands. Bowing low, he reached for your hand and pressed a soft kiss to it, his lips brushing across it feather light.
You found yourself giggling.
“I am Loki, at your assistance. God of Mischief, current employee of the Time Variance Association.”
You blinked at him.
“And who might you be?”
“Oh!” You scrambled to tell him your name as the man Mobius looked more and more uncomfortable.
“Loki, can we talk?” Mobius hissed. He grabbed Loki’s strange sleeve and dragged him a few feet away, lowering his voice to angrily yell. “What do you think you’re doing? The volcano is going to blow in three days. She’s going to be dead. Why are you making friendly with her? You’re jeopardizing the mission by getting buddy buddy with a local, and if we have to come back and do this again, we could throw even more timelines out of balance.”
The two men looked over at you.
“She heard everything I just said.”
“Oh most definitely.” Loki replied.
“Dammit.” Mobius cursed softly.
You waved at them.
“Look, just give me a little time with her and I’ll clear this whole thing up.”
“Yea? How?” Mobius retorted.
“I’m the god of mischief, I can be very convincing.”
Mobius rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, whatever. I’m going back to basecamp, but just, don’t screw this anymore than you already have.”
“How is this my fault? She ran into me!”
“It’s always your fault, Loki.” Mobius sighed and shook his head, turning and walking off.
You watched him walk away. “He seems…” Pursing your lips, you searched for the word.
Loki rolled his eyes. “Bureaucratic.”
You smiled at Loki. “So, uh, what’s this about me dying?”
Looking down at you, Loki picked at his hand, his eyebrows furrowed. “Nothing, come on. Show me Pompeii.”
-
“And last of all, this is where I live.” You announced, having given Loki a tour of the entire city.
Night had fallen by now and you were glad to be home. Standing on your doorstep, you were now even with Loki in height. The night chill had settled in and you found yourself slightly envious of Loki’s strange clothes, a jacket, to keep him warm.
Loki looked at the building from the outside with interest, his eyes roving the structure but lingering on you.
“Would you… would you like to see inside?” You offered shyly.
You saw a tinge of pink on Loki’s cheeks as his eyes met yours, “I don’t want to be untoward.”
“It’s just a tour.” You offered your hand to Loki and he stepped in after you, looking around the extravagant building.
Loki tilted his head as he followed after you.
“I’m the daughter of a Senator. He makes sure I’m well looked after.” You shrugged.
As you led Loki through the various rooms and halls, showing him the paintings, mosaics, servants hard at work, and even the gardens, he commented mildly, “Even I’m impressed.”
“Oh, even?” You retorted, unable to stop yourself from playfully shoving him.
Loki chuckled, “You might not believe it, but I am a prince.”
You looked at him in surprise. “Really? Of where?”
“It is a far off place, you would not know.”
“Uh-huh…” You started skeptically, then looked at his clothes and thought of the strange box.
“You don’t believe me?” Loki replied, staring at you intently.
“Actually I think I do.”
“Good, I would not lie to you.”
You hesitated, uncertain about his sincerity. The memory of the man, Mobius, talking about your death came back to mind. “Do you have a place to sleep?”
“I can find my way back to our camp.” Loki shrugged.
“That will not do.” You shook your head.
Loki raised his eyebrow, amused. “Oh?”
Your cheeks heated up again. “And your clothing needs washing. You cannot wear that again tomorrow without having it cleaned.”
Loki smirked.
You reached for the shirt collar and rubbed your thumb along it, there was a grey blemish. “Surely my servants can clean whatever this is.”
Opening and closing his mouth for a moment, Loki stopped, “I won’t stop them from trying. What do you suggest I wear in the meantime?”
“We have more reasonable things to wear, and surely you would like to take a soak, no?”
“A soak?”
“Yes. It is the house bath so you wouldn’t be alone…”
Loki turned his head, uncertainly.
“I figured, I might join you?” Your voice rose in pitch.
The smirk on Loki’s face widened and he hummed softly, “I think that would be delightful.”
-
Modesty shift wrapped around your torso, the servant helped you step into the hot water. Thoughts flashed across your mind on living in a society where such modesty items weren’t the norm. Your cheeks heated up and you knew it wasn’t from the water.
You sank down onto the bench grateful that your servants had kept the pool steaming for your arrival, no matter how late you would get home. Your hair was tied back to keep it out of the water and kept up. Laying back, you rested your eyes, wondering when your guest would arrive.
Were you being too forward? He had just saved you from a terrible fate. And there was no denying how interested you were in him, and not just because he was from some strange existence. This man was breathtaking, you had never seen a man in these lands as gorgeous as him.
There was a soft knocking at the door. “Mistress. Your guest.”
You opened your eyes and looked over, swallowing hard.
Loki stood beside the servant, a simple cloth wrapped around his waist. Your eyes roved over his muscular torso, toned abdomen, broad shoulders, strong arms and…
Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to say something.
“Loki! Wonderful, come, come, please join me.” Your voice was hoarse as you slid over from the stairs to the bath.
Watching him walk, how like a predatory cat he moved, his muscles rippling with each step. No movement was unnecessary, each step deliberate, like a hunter on the prowl, and then he was sitting beside you in the bath.
Sighing, Loki leaned back in the bath and let out a small groan as his muscles loosened in the warm water.
Your heart pounded a mile a minute as you forced a smile looking at him. One of the servants stood waiting in the shadows. “Servant, fetch some wine.” You croaked.
“Wine? I haven’t had good wine in ages.” Loki mused.
“We should change that.” You murmured.
Loki reached for your hand beneath the water, gently lifting it to the surface with both his hands. He gazed at you seriously as his fingers trailed along the palm of your hand then down to the delicate wrist vein. “Your heartbeat is so fast, darling.” He smiled, tilting his head. His black locks shifted with the movement. Carefully he moved your hand over the left side of your chest, just above your breast. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “And loud.”
You could feel your eyes shimmering as you stared up at him open mouthed. How you wished it was his hand and not yours in that place.
The door opened and Loki moved away, the spell broken.
A servant walked in, carrying a pitcher of wine and two goblets. He set down the pitcher and poured one goblet for each of you, before returning to his place in the shadows.
Loki moved opposite you, sipping his wine and stared, his gaze fixated on you. “This wine is incredible.” He purred. “Worthy of Asgard.”
“Asgard?”
“Where I was raised.”
“I have heard of no such place.”
“I am not surprised.”
“Is that where you are a prince?” You asked, reaching out and sliding your leg against his.
Loki smirked, “It is. It is where I am a god.”
“Careful, if the gods hear you challenging them, they tend to get angry.”
Loki shrugged, “So be it. Perhaps my presence is why Vesuvius must erupt.”
You furrowed your brow, “The mountain?” You pulled your leg back, “Is that the death that Mobius was talking about?”
Loki nodded.
“Oh.” You looked away sadly, “I am a distraction then… something to enjoy before, before you leave, yes?”
“No.” Loki shook his head. “I’m bringing you with us.”
You blinked, turning your head sharply to look back at him. “What?”
“The TVA cares too much about the sacred timeline. Their little lizard gods have too much power. If I’m going to burn their organization to the ground, well, I may as well throw it into as much chaos as possible first.”
“So, you’re just using me as a means to an end?”
“Some call me the god of chaos. But no.” Loki slid back around the bath to be next to you, setting down his goblet. “Sometimes there are people in your life that you meet, that you can feel play a part, sometimes a big part, sometimes a small part. I,” he hesitated, “I don’t know what role you’re destined to play yet.” Loki reached for your hand, his larger one engulfing yours, long fingers almost a full bend longer than yours.
The two of you looked at the way his hand consumed yours.
You nodded meekly, as he slid his hand to the side, clasping your hand together.
“I don’t know this feeling, but I don’t want to stop feeling it.” Loki confessed.
You rested your head on his chest. “I don’t want to either.” It was then that you could feel his heart racing and a small smile spread across your face.
-
Eventually you and Loki left the warm water that had begun to cool. You were each given robes and set off in the direction of the sleeping chambers.
“Wait, Loki.” You stopped, dismissing the servant who had indicated a guest room for Loki. “Stay with me?”
Loki looked at you uncertainly, glancing up and down the hallway at the guards standing at attention.
“Please, I’m always so cold after those baths.” You began earnestly.
The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, “Very well.”
You reached for his hand, wrapping your pinky finger around his and led him along to the master chamber.
It was a grand room, decadent to the extreme. You dismissed the guards with a curt nod, though they stayed within calling distance. Beautiful art and pillars decorated the room with various sitting places should the need arise to entertain.
By the window, was your bed, one of the softest in the city.
Unable to stop yourself, and letting out a laugh at the scandal of it all, you dragged Loki over to the bed. Your legs hit the side and you fell back onto it, dragging him down on top of you.
Loki flushed, rolling over and laying beside you, gazing into your eyes. You gazed back at him, your chest heaving.
“I never noticed your eyes were so green.” You whispered.
“Oh?”
“I was trying to memorize all of you, I didn’t want to forget any details of you.”
Loki lay on his side, hooking his leg over yours so you rolled on your side to face him. Stroking his hand down the material of your nightgown, Loki smiled at you. “You won’t.” His hand came to rest on your waist.
Reaching up you tangled your fingers in his hair, stroking your thumb along his cheek.
Abruptly, Loki moved, gripping his other hand to your cheek, and the one from your waist moving up to guide you towards him and -
And then he was kissing you. His lips pressed to yours, soft gentle, lips brushing against yours, featherlight, mouths moving in sync, the faint tug as you feel him smiling. Your eyes already shut as you sink into the kiss as he rolls over pressing himself on top of you. He pauses the kiss and changes to soft staccato kisses, peppering them down your jaw and throat as you grip his strong shoulders and sigh arching your back into him.
Slowly he stops, the two of you opening your eyes and looking at each other again.
“I think I really like you.” You whispered.
Loki nodded mutely.
Words of confirmation would have been nice, but at least him nodding was something.
You smiled weakly, taking his hand and rolled over, your back to him, placing it on your stomach and closed your eyes.
Loki reached for the blanket, pressing his chin to the top of your head and covered the two of you with it. He laid there in silence, watching as you curled into him. Biting back his chuckle, he smiled as you gripped his arm fiercely, trying to wrap it around yourself as tight as you could in your sleep.
With his hand so occupied, and his other arm somewhat pressed beneath him, Loki focuses his mind on warding the room.
You wake abruptly in the early hours of the morning. Something warm is pressed to your back, a heavy weight across your body. You are entombed, unable to move.
There is a gentle snort, a soft grunt, and then a heavy sigh.
Swallowing hard, the memories of yesterday come flooding back. Craning your head around, and wiggling with all your might, you strain to see the person sharing your bed.
For a moment you are surprised. A part of you genuinely thought he would leave.
Loki’s body starts to react to your wiggling and you stop, face heating up. Biting your fist, you lay still.
Then, with apparent ease, Loki rolls over onto his back, dragging you with him and holding you in place much like a comfort object. He hugs you tight, and you lay on his chest, squeezed in place and unable to move. His physique suggested he was strong but this was beyond anything you could imagine.
Carefully, you shifted your arm free and reached up to stroke his face, “Loki, Loki…” You drew out the word, whispering in a sing song voice.
Loki’s eyes slowly opened, bleary with sleep. Letting go of you, though you stayed on his chest, he rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“Hey Loki.”
“Mmm, hello darling.” Loki hummed, blinking then slowly seemed to come to his senses. He sat up and you fell off of him. “What witchcraft?”
“What?”
Loki’s eyes darkened as he looked at you distrustfully. “I have not slept like that,” he trailed off.
You pulled back and sat next to him on the bed, tugging the blanket with you. The sting of tears welled in your eyes.
“My dear, I am so sorry.” Loki murmured, gripping your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours. “I did not think I would ever sleep so well again.”
You smiled weakly, still feeling the prickle of tears, “I’m glad I could help.”
Loki pulled you close, hugging you into his arms and burying his face in your hair. “I will not let your fate be the same as this city.”
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