cluth

With a group I played with a while ago, we used to play a lot of one- shots when players couldn’t be there. We liked that a lot, so we could try out a lot of different characters and stuff.

Once we got a magic amulet that we needed for a quest, but it appeared to be broken.

BARBARIAN GUY: Wait, hold up. I got a spell for this.

EVERYONE AT THE TABLE: …

BARBARIAN GUY: *takes the amulet* … mending!

DM: And all the people nearby look at the barbarian, astonished, as he stares at and cluthes tightly to the amulet while chanting ‘mending’, and nothing happens- it’s almost as if he thinks he’s some kind of Priest Gnome or something.

BARBARIAN GUY: *facepalms*

the-dark-is-my-home  asked:

What about a switch??? Jimin is the tattoo artist instead (cuz jimin with tattoos 😍😍😍)and Jungkook is a shy bunny that thinks "i should get a tattoo". Yoongi has connections (cuz i imagine him with tattoos sometimes and its just 😍) then Jk gets scared shitless the last minute but forgets everything when he sees Jm

  • “You would look soooo good with a tattoo right here, Kook” says Taehyung, pointing at the younger’s collarbone.
  • “You know I’m scared on needles!” Jungkook pushes him away laughing.
  • “You’re a grown ass men and you are scared of needles? Awww such a babyyy” teases the other. “I’M NOT A BABY!”


  • A few week later, Jungkook is standing in front of one of the most famous tattoo studios in Seul, cluthing a piece of paper to his chest.
  • “hello, how can I help you?” a blue-haired boy is looking at him with a sharp gaze that makes his stomach twirl.
  • “Uhm yeah… Uh… I want a tattoo…?” oh god, what is getting himself into? Tae I’m gonna kill you if I survive.
  • “Oh, you have to  talk with Jiminie then. I’m the piercier. Yoongi. Nice to meet you…?”
  • “Jungkook.” he shakes the incredibly warm hand of the man.


  • “So, where do you want your tattoo?” a lovely boy asks him. Holy shit. This guy looks way to angelic to work in this place. To be  the owner of this place.
  • “Uh… on my collarbone. See, my friend Taehyung said that they’re my charming point so..” “Yeah, they’re nice, but I think your eyes are way more charming.” wait. Is he trying to flirt?
  • “I’m sorry, I tend to talk too much when I’m nervous” Jungkook plays with the hem of his yellow sweatshirt, such an odd contrast with the black of the room.
  • “No worries, we are not gonna do the tattoo today so you can relax” Jimin is smiling at him from behind his desk, pushing back his orange hair and showing the geometric figures on his arm. “Can I see the drawing you want to tattoo?”
  • Jungkook hands him the piece of paper,feeling the cold point of the other’s middle finger. A spark runs through his back.
  • “It’s nice… did you draw this?” Jimin asked, following with his eyes the delicate lines of the lunar phases impressed on the paper. “Yeah” he answered.
  • “Impressive. Come here next friday at 6 pm. I know it’s late but I’m really excited about this tattoo, so I’m gonna do it after the closing hour.” with that, Jimin said goodbye to a very nervous - and a little whipped- Jungkook.


  • “So you’re an art major? No wonders this drawing is so good” the orage haired guy tries to distract him from what’s about to happen.
  • “Yeah… I really love the moon. I love it so much that I’m getting it tattooed.” Jimin laughed, and that sound made the younger’s heart combust: such a beautiful sound, coming from a beautiful person.
  • “Well… maybe you could work here? Not tattoing but just drawing… you know… easy stuff” Jungkook scoffed “I’m sorry, you probably don’t have the time to do that. It’s just that it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a talented hand.”
  • “I’ll take your offer in consideration, Jimin”
  • “Jimin Hyung” corrected said gy, turning on the machine.
  • Jungkook can feel his heart beating so fast it might explode. Or stop. That’s how I’m gonna die, in a fucking tattoo studio so black it seems Marilyn Manson pucked inside here and with an insanely hot guy breahing on my fucking collarbone. Wait what?
  • “Calm down, Jungkookie. I know you can do this” he hears Jimin over the buzzing noise, but most importantly he feels a hand pressing on his chest and a small thumb carressing the skin there.
  • He concentrates on that hand, and not the one that’s holding a very pointy needle (FUN FACT: all the needles are pointy).
  • He can also feel the hand on his chest being lifted. “I’m sorry, I’m a really touchy person. Sorry if I made you unconfortable”
  • “Please, keep it there” Jungkook says before even thinking about it. The hand on his chest is back, and he joins it with his own, breathing deeply.
  • When his heart is back to normality, Jimin positions his hand near the younger’s collarbone, and starts working: the pain is dull, the only thing that makes him frown is that noise that can hear over his thoughts.
  • the sound, however, can’t muffle the feeling of Jimin’s breaths on his collarbone.


  • “Jungkookie! I have a work for you to do!” Jimin yells from his room, and the younger immediately stands up and walks towards it.
  • “yes?” Jimin smiles at him and signales him to take a seat next to him at his desk. Jungkook blushes.
  • “I want…” Jimin lays his head on his little hand covered in rings and looks at Jugkook through his heavy makeup “..you to draw a tattoo for me. I could do it… but I like your style better.”
  • “Jimin… I’m flattered but… I don’t know if I can… I mean I-”
  • “I’m not asking. I’m telling you to do it.” The older winks and rufflles the other’s soft hair.


  • “What??? You want me to tattoo it? No way, Jimin. What if I make a mess? What if I ruin your body?” Jungkook is definitely panicking.
  • “You’re thinking too much. Just do it. Trust me, Jungkook.”


  • “I love it” Jimin says while watching a very focused Jungkook tattoing his ribs.
  • “It’s not finished yet. Shut up. Stop talking. Stop breathing, it makes your chest move.” The orange haired laughs at it, almost making Jungkook do a line that wasn’t supposed to be there.
  • “What the fuck Jimin?? I could have make a mistake! and then you would have it for all your fucking life! Listen I can’t do it- he was definitely panicking- I can’t, I’m not a tattoo artist, I’m just an art major, I just draw, Jimin,I can’t pretend to be a tattoo artist I ca-”
  • Something soft landed on his lips and now is pressing on them. 
  • “Can you calm the fuck down?” Jimin says on his lips, breath fanning over them “I know you can do this, baby” fuck it.
  • Jungkook presses their lips together again, earning a smile from the older who’s caressing his collarbone. That collarbone.


  • Jungkook was calm through the rest of the session, focusing on Jimin’s now inked ribs, while the guy stroked his dark hair, both of them smiling and taking breaks from time to time to kiss. God bless Tae and his crazy ideas.

rainbowninicono  asked:

Scenario of izuku,katsuki and shoto's s/o dying and being reincarnated as a cat that always follows them around

This prompt is really nice and since I have some freedom with this, of course I made the death extra angsty. What can I say, I love angst. Seems I’m just not able to write anything positive, hope you still like it :D

*Todoroki Shouto*

No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. He was holding you in his arms and his clothes were soaked in your blood. Todoroki had tried to stop the bleeding with his ice, but nothing was working. Your life was slowly draining out of you and there was nothing he could do.

“Sho-Shouto… are you… okay?”, you asked with a raspy voice.

“No, no, you’re hurt so I’m not okay. You-there is so much blood and I can’t-I can’t do anything, and you must be hurting so much and I-”, he stuttered.

“It doesn’t-it doesn’t hurt Shouto. I’m-I’m just… glad you’re unharmed.”, you smiled as blood started to drain from your mouth.

“No, no, no, (Name), stay with me, you can’t leave me, please don’t.”

“I love you Shouto.”, you whispered quietly.

“I love you too, I love you so much.”, he sobbed.

Then, as he opened his eyes, he saw the light fading from yours. You had stopped breathing, but you looked peaceful. Todoroki pressed his face to your chest and cried. He hadn’t been able protect you, he was supposed to be laying there. Not you, never you.

When the paramedics came to take the body, Todoroki felt numb, like nothing really mattered anymore. He released your body to the paramedics and just walked away. Todoroki didn’t care about the fact that they wanted to take him to the hospital. He just went straight home and showered. In the shower he noticed it, the blood. All over him, and no matter how hard he scrubbed, it didn’t seem to go away. The water was always a shade of red. No matter how light, but it was. A little reminder that you were no longer there, that you were gone, and you’d never be back.

The next few weeks of Todoroki’s life felt like a dream. Everything was so unreal. The funeral, the grieving classmates and family, all of it. He couldn’t concentrate, and he was tormented by nightmares of you dying, again and again. But something in the middle of the chaos had peaked Todoroki’s interest. It was a cat.

The cat seemed to be everywhere. In the school, at his house and on everywhere he went, like it was following him. One day Todoroki decided to take a closer look at his follower. He squated down, and tried to lure the cat to him. The cat tilted it’s head and looked at him, then it padded to Todoroki. It pushed it’s head against Todoroki’s streched out hand and purred. Now that Todoroki had gotten a closer look at the animal. He realized something. The cat had the same colored eyes as you and it’s fur was the same color as your hair. Just a weird coincidence, right? But the cat even had a familiar scent, it smelled just like you. The cat was weirdly comforting, but it was just a cat. A cat, that had a weird resemblance to the person he had loved more than anyone. A cat that was now comforting him more than anyone had manages since you had died.

*Midoriya Izuku*

Izuku was thrilled, he was supposed to come to your place, since your parents would leave for the night. When he got to your house, he ringed the doorbell, but no one came to open the door. He ringed again and waited. Still no one. It was weird, you were supposed to be home. He decided to test if the door was locked. Midoriya barely had the chance to touch the door when it opened with a creak. It wasn’t even properly closed. He had a bad feeling. Midoriya stepped in cautiously. The house was dead quiet and dark. No lights on, like no one was home. That’s what it was, you just weren’t home. His bad feeling was for nothing, right?

Midoriya headed to your room first. He stopped dead on his tracks once he reached the door. There was blood on the door handle. He ripped the door open without hesitation, and dashed in. You were lying on the floor, covered in blood and all kinds of injuries, but you were breathing. Just barely. Midoriya dialed the emergency number, and explained the situation. He tried to keep his cool, but he was so scared for you. You looked like you were in a really bad shape.

The ambulance took a surprisingly short time. The paramedics hurried you to the hospital. They didn’t let Izuku ride with you, so he ran the whole way to the hospital. When he got there he slammed his hands on the front desk.

“Where is (Full Name)?”, he panted

“Are you family?”, the nurse asked.

“Well kinda. Just please, tell me.”, he pleaded.

“I’m sorry to inform you, that she didn’t make it to the hospital. She died in the ambulance, the paramedics did what they could, she was in a very bad condition.”, the nurse said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

Midoriya’s mind went blank. You were dead. No, that was wrong, he had just seen you. You couldn’t be dead, it just wasn’t possible.

“Oh, thank you for telling me.”, he said quietly.

Midoriya walked away slowly. It felt like the whole world had gone quiet. He couldn’t hear anything, everything seemed to move in slow motion. The only thing he could think of, was that you were gone, forever. He wished he could turn back the clock, but he couldn’t, no one could.

When Midoriya gor home, he ignored his mother completely and went to his room. He locked the door and sat on his bed. Midoriya took his pillow and hugged it, then he cried. Quietly and for a long time. He was pretty sure his mother banged his door at one point, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He would explain all of this to her tomorrow, but for now he just wanted to be alone.

The days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months. Your funeral had been held, and people were grieving. Midoriya wasn’t paralyzed by the sadness and heartbreak anymore, but he was still feeling down. One day when he was leaving from school, he noticed something. There was a cat sitting in front of the school gates. Now that he thought about it, the cat had been doing that for quite sometime. It had started showing up after your death.

“Pity, (Name) would’ve probably liked you.”, he said as he kneeled to pet the cat.

It purred and butted it’s head against Midoriya’s knee. Now that he got a closer look at it, the cat’s fur was pretty much the same color as your hair, and it’s eyes were also a same color as yours.

“Weird.”, Midoriya muttered outloud.

The cat tilted it’s head and looked at him like with a quetioning look. Just like you always did.

Midoriya decided to leave. The cat probably belonged to someone who lived near the school. He walked home and everytime he glanced behind him, the cat was there. It was following him. Like some kind of a guardian angel, watching over him and making sure he was alright.


*Bakugou Katsuki*

No amount of shouting and cursing would make the situation any better. Bakugou knew that, but he couldn’t help it. He was angry. Angry at you, angry at himself and most of all, angry at the villain, that was now laying unconcious on the ground.

“(Name)! Stay the fuck awake, you ain’t dying here, you hear me.”, Bakugou growled.

“I don’t-I don’t want to die.”, you sobbed.“ it hurts, Katsuki it hurts so much.”

You were cluthing to his shirt, you were sobbing and whining and you were clearly in pain.

“You’re not gonna fucking die!”

“I-I want to say some-something to-to you.”

“Fucking tell me then.”, Bakugou grunted.

“I lo-love you Katsuki. I love you so, so much.”

“I fucking love you too, and you’re gonna get throught this shit.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”, you smiled with tears rolling down your cheeks.

And as the tear dropped to Bakugou’s hand, you were gone. You weren’t breathing anymore, but you were smiling. It was like the time had stopped.

“Why the fuck are you smiling, huh? You’re dead. Why the fuck are you smiling!?”, Bakugou growled at you. “Answer me dammit.”, his voice faded.

Bakugou could hear something move on his right. His eyes darted at the cause of the sound. It was the villain, the one that had killed you. Why was he still alive if you weren’t, it wasn’t fair. Bakugou allowed his rage to take over and he dashed at the villain. He wanted to kill the guy, and he would have, if Kamui Woods hadn’t restrained him.

“Let me the fuck out from this thing! He killed (Name), I’m gonna murder that asshole.”, he yelled, but it was all for nothing.

Bakugou was taken home. He marched straight to his room, giving his parents the finger when they tried to ask what was going on. He needed to take his anger out on something so he started to blow stuff up and throw them around. First his table lamp was throw through the window and his books followed. He blew up his table and when room was in to total chaos, he sinked to the floor. He was huffing and grunting, but also crying, just a few tears managed to fall before he wiped his eyes agressivily. For the first time in his life he had told another person he loved them, and now that person was gone. His love was gone and all that was left was heartbreak and anger.

A few days later, when Bakugou left to school, he noticed something in front of their gate. It was a cat. A small, fluffy cat.

“Get outta my fucking way.”, Bakugou growled at the cat.

The cat just stared at him with eyes that seemed awfully familiar. They were the same color yours were. The cat’s fur was a match for your hair too.

“What the fuck?”, Bakugou grunted.

The cat seemed to furrow it’s brows, not that it had any, but that’s how it seemed. The cat reminded Bakugou of you.

“Come here you fucking fluff.”

The cat walked to Bakugou and he picked it up. It butted it’s head to his neck and purred. The cat was warm and soft, and made Bakugou feel a bit better for some reason. He walked all the way to the school with the cat in his arms, and even when he placed it to the ground, it continued to walka after him.

“Tsk, do what you want, fucking stubborn.”, he muttered.

The cat meowed and followed him inside like some little bodyguard. Bakugou liked the cat and he had a feeling he couldn’t stop it from following him anyway.

Not Letting Go - Part 3

Here’s part 3 of the Jason x Reader Soulmate AU!
So I know I am dragging this out stupidly long, but I think we’ve reached the halfway point! Major plot stuff will start happening soon! Hope you guys like it~

Part 1Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tagging: @jadedhillon

_______________________________________

The first thing that registered in your brain when you woke up the next morning was that you felt extremely warm. Also, your pillow seemed to be rising up and down ever so slightly. You grumbled irritably, nuzzling into it in an attempt to get back to sleep. A low resounding chuckle jolted you into wakefulness and your eyes shot open, only to find Jason looking down at you, his expression fond. “Goodmorning to you too,” he greeted, tone bemused. You realised belatedly that you were laying across his chest, apparently doing a very good impression of an octopus judging by the way your limbs were entangled with his. You gasped, feeling your face heat up as you attempted to scramble away.
“Jay I’m so sorry! I didn’t” “Shhhhh,” he hushed you, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a vice like grip to keep you from wriggling away. “Calm down doll, it’s alright,” His tone was soothing; you were sure you were red as a tomato right now. Nonetheless you halted your frantic attempt to escape, instead choosing to hide your face against his chest with an embarrassed groan. Jason removed a hand from your waist to stroke your hair; you could hear the amusement in his voice when he spoke. “See? No harm done.” “I’m sorry I sleep like an octopus,” Your voice was muffled against his skin, but you knew he had heard you when he laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest beneath your ear. For some reason hearing it made you feel all warm and tingly. You groaned internally at your own mushiness. “Naw, you’re the best blanket I’ve ever had. I usually toss them off when I sleep. This morning I got to wake up warm for once,” You knew he was only trying to make you feel better, but it still worked. Unconsciously you started to relax against him. Then a thought struck horror into you. “Wait.. how long have you been awake?” Jason paused, and you already had your answer. “Oh god,” You moaned, defeated. He’d been awake before you and seen you attempting to entwine around him in your sleep. “Don’t be embarrassed doll, it’s adorable,” You just shook your head, deciding to let the subject drop before you died of mortification. “What time is it?” You turned your head to try and catch a glimpse of the alarm clock on your bedside table. “Eight thirty. Do you have to be somewhere?” His hold on you tightened fractionally, and you smiled at the reluctance in his words. “Yeah, I have class at ten,” You apologised, then paused. “You want to stay for breakfast?” Hope was like a living thing in your chest. You struggled to ignore it, glancing up at Jason. He grinned. “Doll I’d love to,”

You went to grab a quick shower, leaving Jason to sprawl across your bed and snuggle into your covers. The sight of him like that made it extremely difficult not to just climb back into bed and cuddle up with him, but somehow you managed not to. Once you were in the shower you took a moment to freak out, hopping up and down under the spray of hot water and hugging yourself tightly. The mix of excitement and nervousness was making you feel wired, and you had to take a few deep breaths to calm down, resting your head against the cold tile. You had never felt this way about anyone before Jason, had never allowed yourself to, and not just because he was your soulmate. It wasn’t uncommon for people to date others who weren’t their soulmate, you never knew when you would meet them so it wasn’t always practical to wait around. Your father hadn’t been your mum’s soulmate, they had been fifteen when they started dating in middle school. No, you had just been scared. Honestly you still were. Scared that Jason would leave, and even more scared of what would happen if he didn’t. His potential to change your future was almost terrifying. Your plan in life had never been very detailed, but a couple of things had always been concrete. You would go to college, graduate, get a stable job and make things better for both yourself and your mum. Now everything seemed uncertain. You still wanted to do all those things, but you didn’t know what impact Jason would have on that yet. And you knew already that you would give up so much to keep him with you.

When you had finished with your shower and gotten dressed, you checked that Jason’s clothes were dry and directed him towards the bathroom so he could clean up. Then you headed downstairs to start on breakfast. Your mum had already left for work so you didn’t have to worry about explaining why Jason was here. The night you had come downstairs wearing his jacket you had told her that it belonged to one of your friends. At the time you weren’t sure where things were going between the two of you and you didn’t want to get your mum’s hopes up. You knew she hoped you would meet your soulmate sooner rather than later, and you didn’t want to tell her that you weren’t sold on the concept. Now though… You figured you should probably tell her soon.
You mused over how you would go about breaking the news while you set about preparing breakfast, putting bacon and eggs to fry on the stove while you set the table. Jason emerged just as you were plating up the food, fresh and damp from the shower. He leaned in the doorway grinning at you, jacket drapped over his shoulder. You grinned back, unable to help yourself. His smile was infectious. “Smells delicious,” He commented, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, lowering his head to nuzzle into your neck. He sniffed, growling playfully. You let out a surprised laugh when you got the joke, swatting at him with the teatowel you were using to handle the hot plates. He chuckled, releasing you, and went to sit in the chair you shooed him towards. “Sorry, I didn’t know how you like your eggs,” you apologised, setting his plate down and taking your own seat across from him. He shook his head. “It looks great, thank you,” He hummed appreciatively when he took a bite and you smiled, tucking into your own food. “So what classes do you have today doll?” You chatted casually about your plan for the day, Jason interjecting occasionally to ask questions. He always seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found that you loved that about him. “How about you? Any plans?” You asked curiously. He grimaced. “Just helping Bruce out with some W.E work probably,” You had been genuinely confounded when Jason told you that he was the supposedly dead son of the billionare Bruce Wayne. All he had told you about the issue was that it had been a kidnapping gone wrong, and Bruce had genuinely thought him dead. He had decided afterwards that announcing that Jason was alive after so long would cause an uproar; it wasn’t the kind of story Wayne Enterprises would want to be associated with. You hadn’t questioned it any further than that. You could sense that it was a sore subject, and you knew that Jason would tell you more when he was ready.

Jason stayed to help you wash up after breakfast, a little voice in the back of your mind noting with satisfaction how well you worked together. Once you were finished you hugged him goodbye at the door, promising to text him later once you got home. You had admitted to him a while back that you often waited up in case he decided to come over, and after that he had taken your phone number, promising to message you in the evening if he was going to drop by. He had seemed pleased by your admission, jokingly adding a heart next to his name in your phone.
Once he was gone you sat at the counter with your school work, deciding to review your notes before class. Not even five minutes later your mum popped her head around the kitchen door, nearly giving you a heart attack. “Ohmygod mum! I thought you had work this morning!” You gasped, cluthing a hand to your chest. “I thought you were an intruder!” You accused, and then realised that if she was home it meant that she knew Jason had been here. You were so screwed. Your mum just smiled knowingly. “I switched shifts. Is that boy gone? I must say he’s very handsome,” She breezed in, filling the kettle to make herself a cup of tea. “Of course I knew when I saw the jacket that he probably would be, he has very good taste,” She turned to give you a wink and you groaned, letting your head fall into your hands. Of course she knew. When had you ever been able to hide anything from her?

Your mum called your name and you looked up, finding her leaning against the counter looking at you, arms folded. “Is he your soulmate?” She wasn’t angry that you’d had a boy over and hadn’t told her, you knew that she trusted you. Still, you found that you were surprised nonetheless. You had been expecting more of a reaction. Instead she seemed happy, you suspected maybe even excited. You nodded hesitantly. “Yeah.. His name’s Jason,” She smiled. “Jason,” She repeated, mulling the name over. “How did you meet him?” You groaned internally. You knew this wouldn’t be the only time you would be asked this question, and quite frankly the answer was kind of embarrassing. “I kind of ran into him in town.. literally. He offered to help me up and I uh, I ran away,” you admitted, and she laughed, shaking her head fondly. “Of course you did. At least he had the sense to follow you. God knows I’ve been waiting for this long enough.” You hesitated. “Would you, um. Would you like to meet him?” You weren’t quite sure why you were asking. You knew you should probably clear it with Jason first, but you knew he was secretly dying to bring you home himself. You didn’t think he would mind. “I would love to. Why don’t you invite him over for dinner tonight?” “Okay,” you mumbled, and your mum smiled warmly, coming over to hug you tightly. You squeezed back, glad to finally be able to talk about Jason to her.
Once you were outside and on your way to class you decided to send Jason a text. ‘Mum found out about you. She wants to know if you’d like to come for dinner tonight? x’ You hesitated a little before adding the x, feeling childish, before deciding to hell with it and sending the message. Jason texted back almost immediately. ‘What time? I’ll be there. (: x’ You smiled to yourself, nervous excitement taking root in the pit of your stomach. It was going to be a long day.

Port to Open- Dead Sun Harbor

I would like to take this opportunity to extend an invitation to any and everyone (Horde or Ally) to take part in a potentially -really- exciting new location that I hope will become a hub for criminals and even good guys who want to taste a bit of bad! Mortua Sol is officially opening their harbor and shifting Dead Sun Harbor into a port city! We’re looking for anyone who would want to be a part of this community- affiliates, merchants, pirates, patrons, people who need a job ICly! DSH will have loads of fun activities to pick from. If you are interested, whisper me in game18+please- members should have Discord as much of the cross faction rp will occur there! With further adieu, I give you Dead Sun Harbor.

-Lots of Love, E


Through the veil of mist, an inlet offers shelter from the sea stretching between Pandaria and the Eastern Kingdoms. The approach to shore is treacherous, the rock formations guarding the way to the docks as if the titans themselves yanked the pillars from the ocean depths. The narrow passages make it nearly impossible for frigates to navigate inland, making the only way ashore to anchor and take smaller rowboats. The sight of Dead Sun Harbor is breath-taking, namely in comparison to the riff-raft that flocks the port. Cascading falls that pour down from the island and something that just says free.

Captained by a known member of the criminal family Mortua Sol- Joram Kallar, The Adoration patrols the waters for any sign of hostile ships be they Alliance or Horde. She is a fast ship, with a ruthless crew. A secondary frigate often accompanies this ship, called The Victory- captained by yet another of Mortua Sol’s family members. Getting passed them is a feat on its own, but intruders will find Dead Sun Enforcers waiting for them ashore– along with three mounted cannons spread out on high ground across the port.

With a signal from The Adoration, docking at the harbor is just a piece, which gains those seeking refuge or a good time full access to the harbor town. The Inn, Brothel, and Gambling House all sit on the level just above the sea- though shops and homes stack up into the mountain side.

Before passing up to the main level, visitors must pass by The Pits- a gladiatorial ring where much of the disputes on the island are settled. Get robbed in the Inn? Challenge the thief to combat in the Pits and beat him to death. Fights are overseen by Head Enforcer and noted member of Mortua Sol, Iceilla Nightbane– disobey one of the few rules the harbor has and face her and her team.

The Hanged Man features a man strung up by his ankle on it’s sign- below it written in common and orcish Inn. Inside, all sorts of barkeeps walk the floors– humans, Kaldorei, Sin'dorei, Orcs, all there to make certain guests have full cups of ale and food on their plates. The main floor of the inn is packed tightly with tables, and is almost always a crowded mess. Upstairs are small rooms, for just three pieces a night and of course, a complimentary meal and ale with the purchase.

Patrons of the harbor, being shady as they often are- often find themselves in the backroom of The Hanged Man, dealing with the Matrem of Mortua Sol- and Overseer of Dead Sun Harbor. A notoriously cruel Kaldorei, Eilithe is more than willing to make mercs and privateers very rich. Crossing her is not a smart endeavor.

Merchant stands pack the paths between buildings, coin can be made and lost almost every step through the port city. For those with a particularly deep pocket, they might find themselves outside of a building whose sign is, quite simply a wagon wheel with the word Fortune fashioned from metal across it. 

The Wheel of Fortune is a rather classy establishment for such a shifty city. The gambling house offers all sorts of games, where players can leave with a small fortune or leave in debt to those that run the harbor. Lora Nightwell, yet another member of Mortua Sol- finds herself the proprietor of this fine establishment. If someone is brave enough to skip out on their gambling debts- Lora is certain to change their mind.

Like any good port city- Dead Sun Harbor offers lonely travelers companionship at The Empress The women and men of this brothel are lovely as ever- and twice as fierce. For a few pieces, sailors can find themselves access to dancers and a hot meal. A price for a night with one of the whores could range from five pieces to five hundred, as they are free to charge ‘based on demand’. Rumor has it they are in need of a Madam. Though they might be without proper management, if the girls don’t kill a man for skipping out on a bill– the enforcers will. 

 Striking as it is, Dead Sun is a dangerous place- but if a young thief keeps his wits about him, the harbor can be a place that makes a person quite well off. So venture off the coast of Stormwind– travel  from Rachet, to a place from the cluthes of Kings and Warchiefs. A place every man and woman can be free.

The happiest man in the Seven Kingdoms

Originally posted by fearbreeze


Hey guys, this is my first time writing so I decided to make a little drabble about Podrick. It is set back just before Joffrey’s death because I feel that this is the time when Pod felt the safest and the happiest. He is truly the sweetest character in this show and is really underrated.Sorry about the mistakes but English is not my mother tongue. I really hope you enjoy reading it. I’ll be glad if you could tell me what you think. I’m thinking of a sequence if people like it. Enjoy!

Here is part two!


Podrick knew he was gaping. He knew it was impolite to gape and he knew he was gaping for far too long know to be unnoticed. But he just somehow couldn’t bring himself to a halt when it came to marveling at the beauty in front of him. Now, don’t get me wrong- Valerie Tyrell, Loras and Margery’s cousin wasn’t, in fact, the most beautiful young woman in the Seven Kingdoms. She wasn’t even anywhere near that. But Podrick couldn’t care less. Ever since she had arrived for her cousin’s wedding she has occupied his mind. He would find himself thinking of the lady in most inconvenient times- during talks with Tyrion, during feasts and even in those very seconds before he had completely drifted asleep. And then he would dream of her. He would dream of her sweetly calling out his name during afternoon walks in the garden and he would dream of her softly cluthing his hand in her own. And sometimes, if he’d been way too excited recently, he would dream of him tearing apart her silk dress only to reveal her body, shivering with desire for him. When those dreams took place, he would be exceedingly shy around her the following day and she would catch him blushing and looking down all the time for no reason. Or so she thought. Today, though, the reason for his embarrassment wasn’t this. Her dark eyes, matching her long and shiny ebony hair were looking at her reflection in the mirror. From his place at the door Podrick looked at her reflection too. Her usually pouty lips were now slightly open and he slowly let his eyes wander just under her collarbone, to the perfectly tan skin on the swell of her breasts, only the very upper part if which could be seen above her dress. God, how he wished he could embrace every inch of them. Embrace all of her. From his place he could also see how perfectly the dark green gown hugged her body from behind and how it fell like a silver river to her feet. She finally noticed him and her mouth jerked into a big smile. “Podrick, I’m so glad you came! ” “The pleasure’s all mine, m'lady. How can I be of your help?” He wouldn’t let his eyes reveal just how flustered he was right now, as she turned around and advanced towards him. “I really needed some company before the things that are to come. I can’t stand Joffrey and I hate to think about all the dreadful things he could do to Margery.” She stopped in front of him and looked him in the eye with such sincere fear that he felt the urge to caress her soft cheek with the back of his hand. “What do you think, Podrick? You’re the only person I can talk to so openly here, everyone is so selfish and couldn’t care less about what will happen to my cousin. ” Podrick’s heart fluttered and he found himself in loss of words for a couple of seconds. Of course, they had met and talked many times. She first got to know him one day when she and her grandmother were paid a visit in the gardens by lord Tyrion. While Tyrion and her grandmother were talking about gold and taxes, Valerie decided to occupy herself with the company of the young squire. This was long after he had first laid eyes on her and by the time of their first interaction, the man was already head-over-heels for lady Valerie Tyrell. They chatted a bit and got along very well. Ever since, she often sought his company as he was the only one around her age (he was just a couple of years older than her) who she could so easily talk to. “M'lady, I don’t intend to underestimate your fears, but I believe that for the time being lady Olenna Tyrell will be staying in King’s Landing. In this case, lady Margerie won’t have anything to worry about-whether it is an upcoming marriage or a rude husband.” The girl furrowed her dark eyebrows in a manner which showed she was contemplating his words. “I believe you are right, Pod. I just can’t help but worry, though.” Podrick reassured her that it was alright to feel that way and she gave him a small nod, whilst her bad mood finally changing into a cheeful one. He instantly felt better as well. He loved to see her like that- in her natural happy state. It brought such joy to him he found himself grinning. “Shall we go and dance the night away, my lord? ” she grabbed him by the hand. “I am no milord, my lady. I am just a squire. ” Podrick felt his voice dropping while wondering if after all he really didn’t stand a chance with a highborn lady like Valerie Tyrell. He had ignored that thought for as long as possible in hopes that he can still somehow return his feelings. “You know what, Pod? You’re right. ” She looked up at him. “You’re so much better than all the lords out there. ” Podrick tried to protest but she quickly led him to the ball room where the wedding was to take place. Just before they entered, she stopped and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. It turned out to be, though, a kiss on his jaw as she was too short to reach his cheek. Either way, Podrick smiled brightly down at her and felt like the happiest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

anonymous asked:

I come ask for "81." We're in the middle of the thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain? "I love your writing.

I don’t know what to fucking do with you guys, thank you so much for your kudos and I am so afraid of letting you guys down with such shitty writing… this prompt had so much potential and I feel like I didn’t live up to it. But it’s still so fun to write! Please enjoy ♥

Uraraka had left her umbrella at her dorms.

Again.

And she was in front of the magnus opus of all thunderstorms. Again.

It wasn’t her fault, in all honesty. After class had finished, she had rushed to the dorms, gotten all books she could handle and sprinted all the way to the library. When she had done this almighty marathon, sun was still glaring down on her and heat was searing on the streets, people dehydratated and seeking for the sea to drink from– which was a true paradox in itself, but that was a whole other story.

But then, just as she was going downstairs, the annoying face of the man from the weathercast flashed right before her eyes, and grimaced at the tragic hurry of hers to get things done instead of thinking her steps through. Once she was in the face of thunder and downpour, her face was all but glee and smiles.

People rushed in front of her to catch a taxi, some of them scurried away underneath their umbrellas while mumbling about an incoming fierce weather– which Uraraka didn’t enjoy much because, you know it was dangerous and she was a bit frail against the incoming winds. So, instead of doing what normal people were doing, instead of calling someone to pick her up or just make a run for it, she waited.

She stood in front of the library entrance, fifteen minutes away from Yuuei but a lifetime apart from her dorms and it dawned on her that without an umbrella, she would most probably make it home drenched.

But staying wasn’t an option either, so while weighing the ups and downs of her decision, a familiar mate of hers, one she wasn’t expecting to find, came to view.

“Yo, Uraraka.”

Deep in thought, Uraraka only registered the deep voice – which sounded more like a groan in her mind, as he was constantly annoyed at every living breathing creature around him. She slowly lifted her eyes to him: black sweater and hoodie on, his big trousers, sneakers, backpack and the most unbelieving grimace she had ever seen him wear. She at least hoped it would match with his whole demeanor that day too, as she had no time or temper to deal with his tantrums and the like.

She waved at him meekly, suddenly feeling tiny seeing how he was mildly covered from the rain and she was standing there, thin white clothes on and wary for the rain. “Good evening, Bakugou. Such fantastic weather we are–”

“You have no fucking umbrella.” stated he, trying to shame her, probably? but the effect was pretty much the opposite, as he sounded annoyed at her lack of prevision. “And there is a thunderstorm coming through.”

She started messing with her hair, that silly effect he was starting to have on her lately and she absolutely despised him for making her so flustered with battling his scarlet eyes. “Tell me about it. You at least can protect your hair from the downpour. All I have is my books.”

He stared at her from head to toe, making her feel a bit uncomfortable. Bakugou had always been one to act bluntly and shamelessly, but the fact that he was blatantly checking her out was making her heart do all kinds of twists. “Your clothing is a bit too damn white.” spat he, squinting at her. “You could have at least have brought some clothes that wouldn’t let the fucking public see your underwear.”

Yes, blunt fucking much. “W-What–” he started fondling with his sweater. “what is even that about?”

Whatever insults she had to throw at his perverted side were thrown off the window when he handed her his sweater. “Stop bitching about it and let’s get going. I’m not gonna be responsible for a breeze sweeping you off your feet.”

Blinking an alarming amount of times, she ended up accepting the piece of clothing and put it on while he started walking away, expecting her to catch up. Uraraka stumbled her way to him with an awkward smile, trailing behind him. “Thanks for the sweater!”

“Don’t mention this to anybody or you’re dead meat, Uraraka.”

She giggled and marched by his side for a few seconds in silence, the pitter patter of the rain and rolling thunder above them looming over them as a chaotic blanket of fear and noise, making her jump in surprise sometimes and Bakugou glare her for being too damn sensitive.

There was a moment when he turned around to glare at her and a ugly scar marring his jaw caught her eye, imprinting itself on her bland mind and making all kinds of feelings spark within her. No matter how far he was fom her– which wasn’t much actually, because he liked her proximity and being a guard to her felt kind of nice, the image of that scar being marked on his perly skin didn’t bode well with her.

She tried to keep the thought in until the image started blinking too much. “Where did you get that scar?”

Bakugou’s brow wrinkled and he looked at her with angry questioning, all kinds of mixed feelings stirring in his eyes as he looked at the little girl wearing his soaked sweater. “What scar?”

“The one…” she traced the shape of her round jaw. “on your jaw.”

He looked onward again and his shoulders tensed a little, but he still remained elegant as she knew him regardless. The answer came out as stale and low, the name he murmured somehow intriguing and suggesting that the reason behind his jaw still haunted his nightmares.

“Overhaul.”

“… Oh.”

Of course, she had heard of this battle. The showdown had been traumatizing, and that was a petty adjective compared to the monstrosity that the fight had been for all heroes. She hadn’t been present during the final battle against the pinnacle of evil, mostly because she had been out of comission once Toga got her bloody hands on her– thank goodness Bakugou had been there to beat that little bitch to the ground before anything else happened. 

Now that she remembered, they had been so busy with class that she hadn’t found the time to thank him.

“I owe you a big thanks, you know.” he halted his steps when he felt that she wasn’t by his side anymore. “Toga would have done horrible things to my body if she had–”

A shadow passed before his eyes and then, his hand covered her mouth. It was now when Uraraka realized that his hair was completely weighed down by the water and that his eyes were terrifyingly dark when spikes covered those crimsom irises. “Shut it.”

She blinked at him, feeling him slightly tremble. Something was going on under that mask of bravery and rudeness. “S’alright, I’m not a douche.”

She giggled, but didn’t run to him again. Her hands grasped the hem of the sweat, his sweaty scent overwhelming her senses as she looked at her feet, another habit of hers that she carried from her childhood to the very same moment. Rain fell hard around her, and Uraraka could hear his steps against the puddles fading away, walking away from her.

Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she could think of now was how she had forgotten about the blonde devil in the midst of the flying exams, the ticking clocks, and how he hadn’t probably been cherished enough after his brave stand against Overhaul because he was considered to be strong enough to shoulder the pain– apparently, everyone thought he was a big boy who could withstand all injuries.

But he wasn’t. Bakugou wasn’t as old or strong as people deemed him to be. No one had thanked him. No one thought they needed to.

Meanwhile, she had almost died while doing not even half as he did, given up halfway– and she had been called a hero for defeating a minor foe. Bakugou had a scar on his jaw, what did she have? And here he was, standing in the rain, uncovered for her, again taking the dirty job.

She hated this.

“Oi,” his voice called her from a few meters away, his shirt drenched– his muscles were tight from beneath the wet fabric, which cloaked him lika a second skin. He had never looked so beautiful to her. “ we are in the middle of a thunderstorm, you planning on stand–”

His breath hitched mid-way as she removed the hoodie from her protected head. “You are alive, Bakugou.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows sunk deep in focus, waiting for what shit she’d come up with. His eyes drunk from her petite form while taking a step closer to her, then stopping and staring again. His red embers were thriving in the rain as he remembered what hell it had been to see Uraraka so beaten up, so close to death– and he wondered if that exact feeling had been what she was musing over, if that feeling was cluthing her heart so tightly like it did to his.

But the rain never stopped, only clothered her more. “I am so glad…!”

“Uraraka–”

“Don’t you realize?” asked she to the air, looking up to the sky. “We are breathing, we are here.”

Yes, he was more aware than ever now. After the hurricane of the final fight, after tending for his wounds and fighting his nightmares for long weeks, no feeling of peace had dawned on him like this moment did. She was shaking, a tight smile sketched on her frail skin, all of her soaked to the bone– but fuck, she was alive.

He hadn’t considered until now that he had saved her, she was alive, he was alive– them both had a future now. Only now did it feel like their torment was over. And suddenly, he couldn’t find his words anymore, and the rain above them could fall as hard as it wanted to, his heart would never stop throbbing inside his chest.

And suddenly, in the middle of the worst of rains and as thunder hovered dangerously near them, he stepped forward and she threw herself to his arms, hugging him tight to her. “I don’t mind the rain, Bakugou.” Uraraka slightly pulled away and looked up to the sky again. Meanwhile, Bakugou watched the raindrops clattering on her pearly skin. 

He cleared his throat, suffocating in crashing relief, voice thick with emotion as he spoke. “We can enjoy it… we are alive now.”

It dawned on him now. They could dance under the thunderstorm, waltz slowly to the howling wind and laugh to incoming hurricanes– she was alive, in his arms now, and everything felt much sharper when she was by his side. Life felt sharper when she was in his arms. 

So he hugged her, feeling choked up while rain weighed them down to the ground, thunder striking the ground streets away– but how could he care when she was in his arms and life seemed so bright when her words lingered in the air? “I fucking hate you for making me so sentitive, you damn minx.”

That was Bakugou language for: thank you for being alive, for hanging on and being so damn pestering. The words echoed and bounced in his throat, but reflected in her eyes as she obviously caught the meaningful look he was giving her as he caressed her hair– god almighty, wasn’t this woman a weakness of his.

“Thank you for surviving, Bakugou.”

And when she pulled away and grinned at him, finally at peace with him, his brain went into meltdown. His heart soared and floated away, and made him wonder about why he had been using his hands to blow things away with his quirk, when he could use them to caress her, adore her, worship her. Air was knocked out of his lungs, and this destructive man was rendered useless and reduced to putty in her hands.

He didn’t wanna destroy anymore– he would treasure her. 

And in the middle of the storm, the eye of the hurricane, the loop of a tsunami or the roll of an earthquake– he would swear on his life he would devote his life to thank her for showing him what life really meant.

“Yeah.” he hugged her close to his chest again, his stale voice hiding the emotional turmoil going on inside his heart. “And thank you, Uraraka.”

For existing, for surviving, for smiling and laughing– he gave his everything to her under a thunderstorm, no sound hearable other than their hearts beating to the same harmony.

10

TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK!
After one hour, 13 minutes and 16.8 seconds, Svendsen crossed the finish line first, to a roar of approval from the packed grandstands at Holmenkollen that he took time to salute. After disappointing individual performances earlier in the season, they were back on top - sammen.
There were so many people, so much noise, it was just incredible, fantastic. - Svendsen

Updated Settings

Originally posted by jollyrogerbones

Through the veil of mist, an inlet offers shelter from the sea stretching between Pandaria and the Eastern Kingdoms. The approach to shore is treacherous, the rock formations guarding the way to the docks as if the titans themselves yanked the pillars from the ocean depths. The narrow passages make it nearly impossible for frigates to navigate inland, making the only way ashore to anchor and take smaller rowboats. The sight of Dead Sun Harbor is breath-taking, namely in comparison to the riff-raft that flocks the port. Cascading falls that pour down from the island and something that just says ‘free’.

Captained by a known member of the criminal family Mortua Sol- Belindra Nightmoon, The Adoration patrols the waters for any sign of hostile ships be they Alliance or Horde. She is a fast ship, with a ruthless crew.  The Adoration is always in company by Justice a large galleon which is outfitted to keep pace with her sister, while also hitting twice as hard. Getting passed them is a feat on its own, but intruders will find Dead Sun Enforcers waiting for them ashore– along with mounted cannons spread out on high ground across the port.

With a signal from The Adoration, docking at the harbor is just a piece, which gains those seeking refuge or a good time full access to the harbor town. The Inn, Brothel, and Gambling House all sit on the level just above the sea- though shops and homes stack up into the mountain side. Before passing up to the main level, visitors must pass by The Harbormaster’s office- the once Alliance Lieutenent Recke Stoutmantle, her keeper. The Harbormaster manages to keep the peace within the harbor, managing all of the Enforcers whom keep the citizens and drifters from causing too much trouble. A person will not find a single uniform in Dead Sun- though burnt orange does seem to be a favorite color, instead- an Enforcer might be identified by a sun-shaped broach, pinned to their person.

The Hanged Man features a man strung up by his ankle on it’s sign- below it written in common and Orcish Inn. Inside, all sorts of barkeeps walk the floors– humans, Kaldorei, Sin'dorei, Orcs, all there to make certain guests have full cups of ale and food on their plates. The main floor of the inn is packed tightly with tables, and is almost always a crowded mess. The Inn’s open archways which look out over the ocean give the place a breath of air at the very least. Upstairs are small rooms, for just three pieces a night and of course, a complimentary meal and ale with the purchase. Larger rooms are more expensive, but certainly worth the extra coin.

Patrons of the harbor, being shady as they often are- often find themselves in the upstairs of The Hanged Man, dealing with the Matrem of Mortua Sol- and Overseer of Dead Sun Harbor. A notoriously cruel Kaldorei, Eilithe is more than willing to make mercs and privateers very rich. 

Merchant stands pack the paths between buildings, coin can be made and lost almost every step through the port city. For those with a particularly deep pocket, they might find themselves outside of a building whose sign is, quite simply a wagon wheel with the word 'Fortune’ fashioned from metal across it. The Wheel of Fortune is a rather classy establishment for such a shifty city. The gambling house offers all sorts of games, where players can leave with a small fortune or leave in debt to those that run the harbor. Currently under the joint ownership of Captain Kurel An'Diel and Overseer Eilithe Duskbringer, the Wheel is only the first level of the entire building. A new location is rumored to open soon.

Like any good port city- Dead Sun Harbor offers lonely travelers companionship at The Empress The women and men of this brothel are lovely as ever- and twice as fierce. For a few pieces, sailors can find themselves access to dancers and a hot meal. A price for a night with one of the whores could range from five pieces to five hundred, as they are free to charge 'based on demand’. 

During the early summer, the original building of The Empress was crushed in a rock slide brought on by a hurricane. As it stands, the workers are currently operating out of the top floor of Wheel of Fortune. Top whore and partial owner, RayRay Duskshatter awaits the opening of Wheel of Fortune’s new location at which time The Empress will have her own building again. Striking as it is, Dead Sun is a dangerous place- but if a young thief keeps his wits about him, the harbor can be a place that makes a person quite well off. 

Passing by the Empress, one will find themselves descending into Merchant Alley, the harbor’s trade and commerce district. The buildings are carved from stone, though their size and width vary as one walks through the largest district. Anything from pastries to illegal goods can be found in this place- and becoming a merchant in the Alley is as simple as a meeting with one, Lady Sunweaver. A hard nosed business woman and hand to the Overseer, Elle ensures that the Alley and much of the harbor’s finances are well guarded.   

So venture off the coast of Stormwind– travel  from Rachet, to a place from the cluthes of Kings and Warchiefs. A place every man and woman can be free.

Originally posted by lilpieceofmyworld

@recke-stoutmantle @ellwelune @kurel-andiel @eilitheduskbringer @morddred @iceillanightbane @residentsofdeadsun @galirayna


Jercico drabble…

—–

“You know what Neeks, I get it now,” Jason tells Nico one day. They were both sitting under the shade, watching Percy’s attempt to teach young campers; waiting since they were Percy’s volunteers for the sparring demo later.

Nico raises an eyebrow, glancing at Jason.

“Yep,” Jason nods in a sagely manner. “If I were ten, lost in time, in distress, and I see that.” He gestures towards Percy who’s now showing the kids some moves, looking very impressive.  "I’d be totally crushing on him too.“ Jason explains seriously.

And Nico huffs at first but laughs anyway, this makes Jason laugh in return.

"I guess so, he does have his hero moments,” Nico says knowingly, putting his hand on his chin, still smiling.

And after a quick thought of “hey, why not?” Jason catcalls and hollers in Percy’s direction: I’D TAP THAT ASS!

“I STILL LIKE TO!” Nico adds and whistles.

“CALL US!” Jason yells even louder, and both sassy sons of Jupiter and Hades cluth their sides in a fit, enjoying the embarassment of one son of Poseidon.

Needles to say, Percy drops the practice sword and gets hit by a kid, in a place where you don’t want to get hit by a kid with a bad but strong aim.

Jason and Nico doesn’t even bother to stop when they take Percy to the infirmary.

Jason: “I’m so sorry bro, you were just so hot!”

Nico: “We can’t help ourselves!”

Percy: “That’s funny guys, ha ha haHAH!? NICO DI ANGELO! Did you just pinch me in the cheeks?!”

—-end—-

This started out as an idea that I began to draw, but I struggled and instead the words came easier. I’d be happy though if anyone would like to draw this. Haha! Just include me in credits or something.

I’ve been gone for a long while, went through some of life’s rougher patches, but I just needed this drabble out, I think the possible interactions between Jason, Percy and Nico are interesting to say the least, it doesn’t even need to be romantic. I still have some things up my sleeves. *winks at ya!*  I may post some new fanart soon!

Whiny Viktor

So okay, @snufflesnurf craved a sick and whiny Viktor a few days ago (and i needed it too - enough to overcome my fear of writing fan fiction so yay. i hope i did okay.). I hope this is okay even though I didn’t include all your lovely ideas. Fetish!Yuuri also makes an appearance. He’s too cute to leave out. I hope you guys don’t mind. I’ll shut up now. Enjoy.   

- - -

Yuuri turned his head towards the sound of desperate and exhausted sounding sneezes followed by deep miserable sniffles coming from the doorway between the living room and master bedroom in Viktor Nikiforov’s spacious apartment in St. Petersburg. A fever flushed and depleted looking version of the five times gold medalist appeared in the doorway, one hand rubbing his red-rimmed and baggy eyes whilst the back of the other hand was busy trying to wipe away the slight mess under his cherry colored and chapped nose.

”Yuuri, I feel awful.” The Russian whined, giving another deep sniffle.

Or at least, that how Yuuri’s ears interpreted the slurred and hoarse semi-Russian, semi-English and full on congested words of Viktor who had, once again, despite the heart moving begging and insistent pleading Yuuri had made not 10 minutes ago, ventured out of his bedroom and was now dragging his tired feat and exhausted form towards Yuuri on the couch.

He paused a few feet away to give Yuuri a defeated look before mumbling a congested “I feel terrible” and closing the remaining distance between them in too short a time, considering his current state, to curl up in Yuuri’s lap, throwing his arms around his neck and tucking his knees up to his chest as far as they could go.

Yuuri could to nothing but give a hasty “later” to Phichit whom he had been talking to online, before he had to save his computer from being swatted to the floor as the 5’10 Russian, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a thin shirt did not leave any room in Yuuri’s lap for technical equipment – nor anything else for that matter.

Yuuri snaked him arms around Viktor’s back and knees as far as they could reach to keep them both from tumbling down from the couch. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yuuri kept his voice low, knowing all too well how much loud noises hurt the Russian’s head when he was sick.

Viktor didn’t answer, but shook his head vigorously from side to side, his lower lip sticking out a bit as he gave a deep and liquid sniffle. He nuzzled his head closer to Yuuri’s chest so Yuuri had to raise his chin to make room for the tangled mop of platinum hair - a mop that he couldn’t resist pressing a warm kiss to even if he tried. His lips met heat. He sighed. Viktor’s low grade fever hadn’t come down despite the dose of cold medicine an hour ago.

“I keep seeing things when I close my eyes.” Viktor mumbled against Yuuri’s chest, sniffling before stating: “Things not you.” He shook his head as if a bad memory was trying to sneak its way back into his conscious mind and sniffled again before pressing his face deeper into Yuuri’s chest. “Yuuri…”.

Yuuri exhaled sharply, trying to force back a forming lump in his throat. The pleading way Viktor had said his name, as if begging Yuuri to save him from his current state of misery, cut deep into the skater’s fragile glass heart and made him press his lips fiercely into the older man’s hair, praying that a healing spark would somehow be created out of his pure devotion to the Russian ball in his lap. But nothing happened. Unfortunately.

Yuuri’s worry soared as a shiver ran through Viktor’s body and almost made the entire couch shake.

“Yuuri I’m cold.” Another small shiver ran through him and he wrapped himself tighter around Yuuri.

Right. “Let us get you back in bed now, okay?” Yuuri whispered, emphasizing the ‘us’. Despite having replaced most of last season’s belly fat with toned and lean muscles, there was no way the smaller Japanese could carry his coach back to bed. Viktor had to be an active part of their “getting back to bed”-mission. Fortunately, the hazy Russian had seemed to reach the same conclusion and had untangled himself from Yuuri’s limbs and made the way – with an iron-grip on both Yuuri’s hand (he’d deal with the bruise later) and Yuuri’s shirt (which was sure to be stretched a size or two) – from the living room and back to the bed where he’d allowed his fiancé to tuck him back into bed where he immediately curled up and started coughing harshly into his four layers of blankets, looking even more pained and miserable once he had finished.

Yuuri had retreated to the adjoined bathroom to undress and grab some more cold medicine and some fresh water for Viktor.  He was halfway out of his jeans when a series of sniffles and whimpers called him back to the bed. Stumbling into the room, jeans still wrapped around his ankles, he found Viktor with his eyes closed on the bed and his arm outstretched in Yuuri’s direction, hand opening and closing around the empty air.

“Yuuri, мой ангел, ты где?”

Yuuri almost stumbled back, palming his aching chest at the sight of his sick fiancé and the slurred and hoarse Russian words. From the little Russian he knew he’d been able to translate the few words. “Yuuri, my angel, where are you?”. When Viktor’s whimpers turned to hitchy sobs, Yuuri kicked off his jeans completely and snuggled up to Viktor, pulling him against him in a safe embrace that made the Russian relax.

A few minutes later, Yuuri was sure Viktor was fast asleep. He’d managed to coax a few pills and some water into the Russian who had already been half asleep at that point. Upon swallowing, Viktor had snuggled closer to Yuuri, pressing his hot face and sniffly nose into his chest while his hands and turned to hard balls, cluthing Yuuri’s shirt as if he was afraid his Japanese angel would leave him in his sleep. Yuuri smiled a sympathetic smile and pressed his lips to Viktor’s warm brow as the man in his arms cleared his throat and sniffled, nuzzling his nose further into Yuuri’s shirt.

Yuuri focused on taking deep and even breaths. He had to remain calm. Every small sniffle Yuuri felt against his chest sent tingles down his abdomen and further south, but Viktor was feeling awful so there was no way on earth Yuuri was allowing himself to be even a little bit aroused by the way Viktor’sniffles seemed to claim energy from all over his body, letting Yuuri’s hands stroking Viktor’s back feel the deep sniffles a split second before they came. Yuuri tensed as another wet sniffle made Viktor’s upper body move. The effort, however, didn’t seem to be enough for Viktor’s runny nose and Yuuri startled and had to concentrate very hard, trying to memorize all the secret ingredients in his mother’s pork cutlet bowl recipe as Viktor moved his head back and forth against his chest wiping his nose – his very damp, red, chapped and still sniffly nose – against Yuuri’s shirt, leaving wet marks on the fabric.

With a controlled intake of breath Yuuri raised his head to look for-

“Ran out of tissues.” Viktor mumbled congested into his chest, giving his nose another thorough wipe in Yuuri’s shirt. Yuuri had to start listing all the names of his late grandmother’s cats to calm himself and ignore the warm sparks shooting from his gut to his groin.

Right. It would be fine, Yuuri told himself. He could handle a little sniffling just as long as Viktor didn’t need to-

“hhhYuu-hhh-uuri? I hhh I need to…”

Fuck!

“Yuu-hhh- Yuuri…?”

Yuuri glanced around for anything that could be used as a makeshift handkerchief for what was clearly to be a very messy sneeze. Sneezes. Plural. Viktor Nikiforov didn’t do anything by halves. When he won, he won BIG and when he sneezed, well…

“’m’sorry Yuuri hhh i… hh-I can’t… hhhhold…” Viktor raised his head to look at Yuuri through swimming eyes, spilling over into irritated tears as he fought the relentless tickle.

Viktor’s hitchy apology was what did it for Yuuri in the end. His sick fiancé was apologizing for not being able to hold back his sneezes, knowing all too well how they would affect Yuuri. The least Yuuri could do was man up and keep himself in control. For Viktor. He could do anything for Viktor.

“It’s okay, my love.” Yuuri placed a swift kiss on Viktor’s forehead before guiding his head back into his chest, letting a strangled noise of delight escape him as Viktor’s twitchy and damp nose made contact with his skin where his V-neck exposed it.

Grandma had 18 cats. Snuffles. Dimples. Porkchop…

Yuuri closed his eyes as Viktor heaved a high-pitched breath and shuddered into the release.

“Hheh’EHHTZSscheiuww-uhh!”

Yuuri felt his now wet skin growing cold as Viktor drew another shivery breath against him, building up for a second.

… uhh… Mozart. Piglet. That… one with the white ear…

“EHHEHTSschieww!! Hng!”

Screw grandma’s cats! Viktor had just made a little whimpered post-sneeze sound of exhaustion against him and there was no way Yuuri’s mind could stay coherent after that.  He could feel Viktor’s breath starting to hitch again, his twitchy notrils flaring against Yuuri’s soaked skin. The third sneeze had Viktor moaning in breathy anticipation as it teased him with a few false starts. Fortunately for Yuuri, this gave him enough time to angle himself better around his sick partner, leaving just enough space between their bodies to see the breathtakingly beautiful pre-sneeze expression occupying Viktor’s gorgeous face. His platinum eyebrows were drawn together in a desperately confused look, the curtain of thick hair falling down over one. His chest jumped with small teasing breaths that made Yuuri groan. Viktor’s cherry nose flared and twitched mercilessly, making him pull his upper lip back, revealing his perfect teeth.

Yuuri had never been this mesmerized.          

“God you’re beautiful.” He breathed and would have sworn he saw Viktor’s lips draw up in a small smile before the force of the last sneeze had him pitching forward into Yuuri’s chest again, shuddering fiercely from exhaustion.

“hiiiEHHZTSscheww!!-uhh!!”

Victor slumped against him, exhausted and sniffly while Yuuri’s heart tried to calm from the marathon it’d just been running.

“B-bless you.” Yuuri was able to stutter a minute later. He felt Viktor giggle hoarsely against him.

“Thank you, sorry about your shirt.” Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh at that congested and oddly flirtatious remark. Judging by the way Viktor’s lower body was currently grinding against Yuuri’s thighs and the way his fingers were digging into his back, the sick Russian was anything but sorry. Yuuri’s fetishy – yet shy – mind fondly damned his in-the-know fiancé to hell. “I’ll stock up on tissues from now on.”

“Viktor?”

“Mmm?”

“Screw the tissues.”

“Mmm, I was hoping you’d say that.”