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emeritusemeritus · 4 months

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No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 1 2 3

Part 3

Title: No Good Deeds. Part 3.

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter.

This one got a little sad I’m sorry, I’m in my Freddie feels right now 🥀

Arriving at the shop, you noticed that Ron was still not here yet as the shop was in complete blackout except for the window lights which remained on at all times. You pulled out your wand and recited the unlocking spell that Fred had created and personalised, as well as the counter spell for the anti-alohamora charm he'd placed upon the building. You locked the door behind you with a flick of your wand and illuminated the store, making your way straight up to the office. The store looked good and tidy, though you did notice during your ascent up the stairs that there were a few stock items that needed replenishing, something you could do once you'd set up everything in the back.

Around half an hour later, Ron burst through the office door, calling for George and immediately froze upon seeing you sat there at his brother's desk.

"Oh, thought it was George this morning," he says, running his hand over the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at barging in.

"He had some stuff to sort this morning, said I'd cover for him," you explained with a little shrug, grabbing the floats from the safe and the morning banking book.

"Oh right, yeah okay," Ron says, following behind you as you walk down the stairs. "Think he's got a secret girlfriend?"

Ron's words make you momentarily freeze, having not expected him to say that.

"Don't know Ronald," you said with another shrug and a smile, "but if Percy can get a girlfriend then George definitely can." Ron laughs with a nod and helped you set up the shop as you work together, laughing and joking like usual. He tries to pry into George's love life a little more, assuming that you know more than he does but you successfully manage to deflect his questions, hopefully without any suspicion.

You winced as the stones of your engagement ring caught the palm of your hand for the third time since you'd been restocking the shelves and looked down to see a little imprint of the outline cut into your hand. You sighed, checking around you to see where Ron was before walking up towards the office and turning left instead, towards the flat. Approaching the wooden door, you took a deep breath in and tried to gather your courage, suddenly feeling emotional and overwhelmed at returning to the flat you'd once known so well, dreading stepping through the door.

You huffed out a breathe and opened the handle, immediately greeted by the dark corridor that wrapped around the flat. You walked past the closet and then past what used to be Fred's bedroom, pausing only briefly to touch the doorframe as you felt your lip wobble, tears threatening your eyes. You shook them away and carried on walking towards George's room, looking for something specific that you knew he had, hoping he wouldn't mind you borrowing it.

You felt uncomfortable intruding like this, but it was the only solution you could think of. You stepped through the door and found the room to be much neater than you imagined, with only a few pieces of clothing and ties strewn on the floor in the otherwise rather tidy bedroom. You walked over to his dresser, seeing his leather watch box on top and raised the lid. Immediately you were met with a photo of you, George and Fred in your fifth year, building a snowman in the courtyard at Hogwarts. You all looked so young and happy, dressed in layer upon layer of warm clothes topped with coats and hats as you beamed at the camera, Fred's arm wrapped around you and George holding onto your shoulder, each one of you proud of the enchanted snowman you'd created. A tear leaked out of your eye and you bit your lip to try and prevent anymore from falling as you quickly wiped it away, unable to take your eyes of Fred's infectious smile. You placed the photo down onto the lid and reached to grab a silver chain that was beside the watch that his parents had given him for his 17th birthday, the same watch that sat beside an identical one in the box. You'd bought both of them a chain for their 17th birthday with a little engraved pendant attached that you had customised. The engraving was a 'w' sign with a little star at the top, the very same sign that would become the logo for the shop. Fred was buried in his chain, having never taken it off, but you noticed that George hadn't worn his much in the past few years, which you understood. You took out the chain and slipped the engagement ring through it before securing it around your neck and tucking it underneath your shirt. The last thing you wanted was to lose the ring and this was the only way you could keep it safe whilst you were at work, knowing you'd be panicking if it was in your pocket all day and you vowed to keep it at home tomorrow. You closed the lid of the watch box, casting one last glance at the photo before walking out of the flat and back down to the shop. Ron was none the wiser and you carried on restocking the love potions, no longer hurting from the ring, as Ron grabbed the skiving snackboxes in preparation for you opening the store.

You briefly thought of George as you wiped down the counter, wondering if the furniture had been delivered yet and what he was doing at home before a knock at the front door dragged you out of your musings. Verity had arrived for her shift and you let her in with a wave of your wand, greeting her before disappearing into the office for one last check over the inventory books before the shop opened.

"Morning stranger," you heard a voice say a little later as you deposited some cash into the safe. You turned around and saw George leaning on the door frame, arms crossed with a smirk on his lips, looking well rested and quite frankly, very handsome in his suit and burgundy shirt.

"Morning Georgie," you smiled, locking the safe and turning to face him completely.

"You ran off this morning," he teases, stepping forward to sit next to you on the desk, his long legs leaning beside you.

"I left a note," you countered in a mock-argument, giving him a wicked smile. He chuckles and nods, his eyes flicking over you.

"Did everything come okay? Didn't expect you in yet."

"All set up," he says with a nod before frowning gently, his mouth opening and closing twice before he says the next part, "look about last night, I'm sorry if-"

"Georgie," you said, moving to stand and place your hand on his chest to stop him. "I offered."

"Yeah not for me to sleep with-

"It's fine, actually it was nice to sleep beside someone again," you said honestly, the image of Fred's smiling face from the photograph filling your mind as you thought of the only person you'd ever shared a bed with. "Except for the snoring, that I could do without," you joked. He immediately grabbed you and pulled you into him as you let out a little squeal at the sensation of his beginning to tickle you.

"Snoring!?" He repeats with a shout, trying to look outraged but the grin on his face told you that he was far from angry. "How rude Mrs Weasley," he jokes, stopping the tickling but still keeping his hands on your waist. His eyes flick down to your left hand and his brows knit together momentarily as you follow his train of thought.

"Couldn't let Ron see it yet," you said as you both looked at your left ring finger, "I have to confess something though."

"Don't say you've lost it already," George says with a small, goading smirk which transforms into a laugh as you hit him on the chest for the little dig.

"No I haven't lost it," you say with a huff before reaching down into your shirt and pulling out the chain that sits around your neck, the ring hanging off of it like a pendant, knowing he'd recognise it instantly, "had to borrow this from you, is that okay? Please don't be mad, I tried to put the ring on my other hand but it kept digging in and it cut me and."

George immediately stops your babbling by pressing his lips to yours, a move that shocks you to your core as you stand there frozen, feeling his soft lips on yours. The kiss lasts no more than a few seconds but you can't help but stay perfectly still, more than surprised by his actions, your eyes slowly fluttering open after instinctively closing as he leaned in. George pulls away and looks at you with equal amounts of surprise, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done too. His shocked expression drops from his face after a few moments as he draws in a breath before explaining, never taking his eyes off his chain around your neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't think of any other way to stop you rambling," he says with a small tilt of teasing in his voice before his gaze flicks up to look directly into your eyes, a soft look on his features. "I don't mind, looks good on you."

He strokes your arm as he pulls away and without any other words, he walks through the office door and down the stairs, leaving you utterly bamboozled as you stare at the spot where George had just been. George just kissed you. George Weasley had just kissed you.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, with paperwork and inventory checks needing your attention and taking up most of your time. You'd run into George a few times over the course of the day and each and every time you had felt his eyes on you before you even knew he was there. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, like he was deep in thought or concentration but it only seemed to be when he caught sight of you which was strange. At one point he had winked at you as you walked through the store after grabbing some lunch for the both of you and it made you feel giddy and restless as there had seemed to be a shift in your dynamic since the kiss.

After your last inventory check was done and recorded in the files, you stepped out onto the shopfloor at 10 minutes before close to ask George about what he wanted for dinner tonight but you stopped short when you saw him laughing with an unfamiliar woman next to the till. They were stood pretty close together and she was laughing at something George was saying as he chuckled along, looking fairly animated in his reply. Your eyes rolled when you saw her laugh and reach out to touch his arm, a move you'd seen over and over again in all those tragic muggle romantic comedies that Hermione had made you endure over the years. You couldn't deny that your stomach sank at seeing the scene before you, George and the pretty woman flirting openly in the near empty shop, especially after he kissed you earlier in the day. You considered just backing away and pretending that you'd not seen what you had but that plan was immediately rendered impossible when you heard your name called out by a very familiar voice. George.

He waved his hand at you, gesturing for you to join them and you willed your feet to move across the floor, trying to force a smile onto your face though inside you were a maelstrom of hurt and rage.

"This is her, y/n," George says, introducing you as you approach them, placing his hand onto your waist as you stand next to him. "She came up with these, bloody brilliant actually," George says, holding out the familiar packaging of the weather in a bottle product you'd created together in your sixth year. "Excellent diversion tactic or just a harmless prank if preferred, a rain cloud will actually follow the receiver around and it creates no mess, except for the unsuspecting victim, they'll be wet through."

Usually, George's praise would have made you blush, especially as his hand held your waist so openly, but in the current circumstance you just felt enraged. The woman he was chatting with had pulled away from him and clearly had a face like thunder at your interruption, though she tried to mask it around George.

"It seems your employees are very talented," she says with a tight lipped smile that certainly didn't reach her eyes. You didn't miss the inflection on the word 'employees' and it pained you not to roll your eyes at her purposeful goading. You shot her a sarcastic smile in return before looking around for Ron but you couldn't see him.

"Employee?" George says questioningly before looking down at you, pulling you in slightly, "my fiancée." You froze, feeling suddenly on the spot at you tried to search for any sign of Ron or Verity in hearing distance but there was no one else around.

The woman seemed to baulk at the new information and all pretence of a smile dropped from her face. She suddenly made up some excuse about having to collect something from Flourish and Botts and quickly hustled out of the store, leaving you and George alone.

You snorted as you watched her exit, "should rename the shop 'Weasleys' Wizard Whizzes, with how fast she just ran out."

George barked out a laugh before checking his watch and flourishing his wand, effectively closing and locking the door. He nudges you with his hip as he squeezes past to get to the tills, opening up the first one that Verity had manned for most of her shift.

"So fiancé Eh?" You said quietly, moving around to the second till to begin cashing it up just as George had with the first one. George gives you a little look as he counts the sickles before jotting down the total on the little piece of parchment beside the till.

"Only one more day before we tell mum, might as well start the rumours," George says with a knowing smirk. The mention of telling Molly made your stomach lurch and it was all you could think of as you counted each galleon, knut and sickle in the till.

"You ready my beloved?" George asks jokingly, reaching for your hand as he puts the last of the cash in the safe.

"What about the accounts?" You ask, looking through the inventory receipts laid out on your desk.

"They can wait till morning, I'm starving, let's go home," George says, taking your hand and begins leading you down the stairs. His use of 'home' gave you a warm, fluttery feeling that made a goofy smile want to cross across your lips, knowing that he meant both of you.

You walked out of the shop and George turned out the lights and locked up with his wand before placing it into his suit jacket pocket, never once letting go of your hand as you walked around to the back of the store and apparated back to your flat.

As soon as you made it back, you walked into your bedroom and threw off your bra just as you did everyday, followed by your socks and jeans, changing into your loungewear straight away. You threw on a big cardigan and walked back out to see George in the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

"Made you a cup of tea Angel," he says with an absent nod of his head as he peruses the ingredients.

"Thank you!" You gush, elated at the prospect of having a warm cup of tea, "I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," you joked.

George huffed mockingly, closing the fridge as he turns to face you. He'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and you couldn't deny how good he looked right at that moment.

"Not my movie star good looks? Towering height? Flaming red hair?" He jokes, stepping closer to you.

"Hmmm," you pretend to think, dramatically tapping your chin, "no it's definitely the tea."

"Remind me why I'm marrying you again?" He teases, reaching behind you to grab his drink.

"I'd say my impeccable sense of humour and sharp whit but we both know it's for a savvy business move," you replied with a sarcastic grin that falls from your face as you watch George's face sink. He recovers quickly but you definitely saw the stricken expression on his face and you immediately regret your words, though you were of course only stating facts.

You start tea as George nips in the shower and as the rice begins to boil and the chicken comes out of the oven, the kitchen heats up exponentially and you have to take off your cardigan due to the heat, casting it to the wind to land somewhere on the sofa behind you. Just as you reached for the jar of sauce from the cupboard, you saw the bottles of daisyroot draught you'd bought for George a few days ago and pulled it out for him before adding the sauce to the chicken.

"Georgie, I got you some daisyroot, if you want it," you said, turning to face him as you stir the bubbling pan. He's wearing his pyjama bottoms and a black T-shirt as he rubs his hair with the towel, walking barefoot into the kitchen. He opens his mouth to reply but he seems to briefly pause, focusing intently on something around you before snapping out of it a few moments later, looking bashful.

"Great, yeah great, thank you," he stammered, stuttering through his words as he avoided eye contact with you and walked past you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You frowned at his peculiar behaviour but decided not to question in, realising that it might be an adjustment thing from him moving in with you, after all the only person he'd ever lived with as an adult was Fred. Perhaps you shouldn't have bought him the daisyroot, thinking that somehow you might have overstepped.

"Tea's nearly ready," you say, perhaps a little delicately in hopes that you wouldn't upset him but his reaction is normal so you try to put it out of your mind, putting it down to a bad turn.

"This is amazing Angel," George says, taking huge forkfuls of the chicken curry and rice you'd haphazardly thrown together. You smile appreciatively at him and scoop up some of your own food, admittedly taking much smaller bites than George. "So, you ready to tell Mum tomorrow?"

Your eyes shoot up to his with a glare, seeing him smirking at you and you roll your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat and nerves at the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah can't wait," you mutter sarcastically, already anticipating what could happen in your mind, picturing her utter elation, or her outrage.

"You know she'll be happy right?" George says, scooping up another forkful of rice.

"You think we can actually convince them?" You ask, changing the direction of the conversation slightly, not realising how much that question had been playing on your mind. George is quiet for a minute as he considers his answer, taking a sip of the daisyroot before picking up his fork again.

"Don't see why not," he says with a little shrug before turning to look at you with a little smile, "not exactly unheard of is it? Falling for your best friend."

George's words make your stomach flip and roil in numerous ways, the smile on his face only furthering those complicated feelings within you.

"Guess not," you reply, trying to act neutral as you absently eat your food, though you couldn't deny that your appetite had waned dramatically from the topic of conversation. "So, do I wear the ring tomorrow or do I put it on after work?"

"Whatever you want Angel," George says, reaching for his glass again, "Ron's off tomorrow and I doubt Verity would notice anything even directly under her nose, it's just you and me." When you don't reply, silently considering your options, George leans over and grabs your hand on the table, stroking where your engagement ring should be. "Keep in on my chain tomorrow, around your neck and then put it on before we get back to mum's," he suggests, a softness to his voice that made it seem like a hopeful request. You nod and smile at him, still feeling a little conflicted as you tuck into the rest of your meal.

When you climb into bed later that night, your thoughts are consumed by your situation, of your impending engagement and your future after that. Truthfully, you hadn't taken much time to process everything since that first initial day, getting caught up in George moving in and all the things that came along with that. You were already anxious at returning to the Burrow tomorrow, having only been back a handful of times since the war, once for Harry and Ginny's engagement party and a few other dinners that never quite felt the same as before, like something obvious was missing, as it always was these days. Your thoughts were plagued with what ifs and nervous thoughts of what lies after but mostly all you could think of was Fred.

You had to remind yourself that you were doing this for George and for Fred's memory, to keep the business exactly as it had been created, to honour Fred. They were your oldest friends, your best friends and you'd give anything for them to succeed and to be happy and if that meant sacrificing your own life and happiness temporarily, then you'd do it in a heartbeat, regardless of the emotional strain.

You felt shame at lying to the people that had become your second family, that had housed you and welcomed you into their home like one of their own. You felt sad that you were holding back George from finding someone and even more conflicted that the idea of George finding someone else caused you to hurt in ways you couldn't explain. And most of all, you felt immeasurable guilt at your arrangement with George, namely because it felt like you were disrespecting Fred. Moving on, even though you were never officially together, seemed to imply that you had chosen George over him, that you could be so selfish and heartless that you'd marry his twin brother after his death, casting all of your memories away and rendering them insignificant. In your heart, you knew Fred wouldn't see it that way and he'd be proud of you for doing what you were doing for his and George's sake, though your mind wouldn't listen to a word of that, instead choosing to attack you.

As soon as the idea crossed your mind, you pulled back your covers and hauled yourself out of bed to crouch on the floor, reaching for a large shoebox that was stored under your bed, filled with your most treasured items. The top of the box had scribbles all over it in both in pencil and quill ink, with writings and drawings of Weasley products all over in a mixture of yours and the twins' handwriting. You sat and chuckled at the difference between everyone's writing; yours was the neatest and most consistent with cursive tails and joined letters. George's writing was small and a little 'curly', though it was quite neat for a boy's writing. Fred's writing however, fluctuated between indecipherable scribblings and various levels of darkness as if he's taken too much ink on the quill. You ran your fingers over the markings, smiling to yourself, before opening the lid to the shoebox. You didn't do this often, only when you needed to feel him, to be surrounded by memories, like right now.

You pulled out a stack of photos front the top, some magical and some not, seeing you, George and Fred at various ages and places during your Hogwarts years. You looked through them with fondness before coming across a photo of you and Fred at the Yule Ball in your sixth year, both of you dressed in your fanciest clothes. Fred's rust coloured waistcoat matches his vibrant, long hair perfectly and you looked at the photo carefully, thinking of how handsome he looked. Memories of dancing and laughing through the night entered your mind, both with Fred and George after George had stolen you away for a dance when Fred had stepped out to get drinks. Fred had walked straight up to the pair of you pretending to be angry and had tried to steal you back, both of them never missing a step of the waltz choreography as you were passed back and forth between the brothers, their matching red hair just a blur as you spun around.

You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and steamed down your cheeks as you looked at the photo of Fred, trying to remember every little detail about him, the scar on his eyebrow and the light freckles on his cheeks, his smell and his laughter. You put down the photos and picked up the button that was underneath the stack, one of the buttons from your dress that night that Fred had unceremoniously ripped off of you, this singular button popping off and rolling underneath his bed, only for you to find it two months later. You placed the button down onto the photos and pulled out a stack of letters that you'd saved, some from Fred and some from George, not feeling strong enough to be able to read them at the moment.

Just as you pulled out a little stuffed toy of a Niffler that Fred had bought you in your third year and cuddled it into your chest, there was a gentle knock at the door. You called out for George to come in, trying to stash the things away before he could see them and get upset as well as quickly wiping away your tears before looking up to him.

Whatever he wanted from you disappeared the second he saw your tear strained face, crouched over a box he recognised immediately.

"Angel," he says quietly, which only makes more tears fall. He moves like lightning over to you and immediately wraps his arms around you, sitting beside you and pulling you into his embrace so that you were near enough sat in his lap. He holds you, rocking gently as you cry, no longer seeing any reason to hold back your emotions.

"Your T-shirt's all wet," you say in a weak, apologetic voice with a sniffle a few minutes later, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm so sorry, it's not fair of me to do this with you," you say, noticing that his own tears are working their way down his face.

"Not fair? What do you mean?" He says gently, allowing you to pull away but not completely, keeping a comforting hand on you.

"He was your brother, your twin, I-"

"Enough of that," he says with a shake of his head, reaching down to wipe away a tear under your eye, "he meant everything to both of us."

His words make you want to cry all over again but you don't, trying to stay calm as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. His hand strokes your back as you try and calm your breathing, feeling a little embarrassed by your outburst after you'd got it all out of your system.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't considered how hard this must be for you, you and Fred were together for-."

"It doesn't matter," you say, cutting off George, not wanting to explain that you were never really together, "it's not that, not really, I just really needed him."

George gives you a single nod that holds all the weight of understanding, clearly knowing exactly how you felt.

"I remember this," George chuckles, pulling something out of the box delicately. It was a piece of parchment with the ingredients for the ageing potion you'd found in an old potions book that the twins had used to try and enter their names into the triwizard tournament. You'd warned them that it wouldn't work against Dumbledore's age line but they hadn't listened. Attached to the sheet of parchment with an old paper clip was a photo you'd taken of the twins in the infirmary, both of them sporting wild white hair and beards, including bushy eyebrows, their arms around each other with cheesy smiles.

You watched as George reached down to touch an old, faded T-shirt of Fred's that was tucked down into the bottom of the box, an old quidditch T-shirt that had outgrown him by his third year, golden thread stitching up a hole in the collar and another smaller one on the seam of the sleeve. You wore it to bed nearly every night for years, the softness and the smell always so comforting to you.

George's fingers ran across the Gryffindor logo for a moment before catching sight of a keyring he'd bought you from the Quidditch World Cup, the green shamrock dangling from the binder ring, the Ireland logo on the back a little scratched up now but the green, white and orange colours were still as vibrant as ever.

"I bought you this," he said with a smile, placing it into his hand as he inspected it. You nodded eagerly, remembering it clearly. You'd painted the boys faces before leaving the tent with the face paint you'd taken with you and when they'd been to look at the merchandise with the limited money they had, they'd both returned with matching green and white scarves, Fred decked out in an obscenely large hat and George had nervously held out his hand to you, passing you the keyring as he moved you to stand between the twins.

"Knew you would want a momento from the trip but I didn't think you'd appreciate one of those hats like Fred and Ginny had," he says, a fondness in his eyes as he looks at the metal keyring.

"I used it everyday for five years," you said, giving him a little smile. "I caught it on the door one day and I thought I broke it, had to reattach the shamrock and then I switched it out, it means too much to me to get broken or lost."

George looks up at you with emotion filled eyes, a look shared between you both that held so much depth that it stole your breath for a few moments.

"Feels like another lifetime," George says after a few minutes of silence. You made a noise of agreement, flicking your eyes down to look at the box filled with distant memories that were now bittersweet and a little twisted.

"You're wrong, you know."

George looks up at you with a puzzled frown, confused by your words. You breathe out a puff of laughter and smile at him, reaching for the hand that wasn't holding the keyring.

"Fred isn't the only one who means everything to me."

Your words seem to affect George in a way that you hadn't anticipated as a tear comes to his eye, his hand tightening around yours before he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You hug him back without question, feeling his soft (and now dry) T-shirt against your skin, his arms around you and the comforting smell of his hair and skin taking over your senses.

He pulls away ever so slightly and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you again, his face so close to yours but he doesn't, slowly releasing you from his hold until you climbed off of him, a little disappointed.

"Right, enough mushy shit, we need a plan, for telling your family," you say, standing up and pulling your pyjamas back into place.

"That was what I came to tell you," George says, moving to stand as well as you bent down to slide the box back under your bed. You turned around and looked at him expectantly, wanting him to elaborate. "Mum sent an owl, said something about a gnome infestation, apparently they're vicious this time of year, dad's been bitten twice just walking to the car."

"Oh."

"I was thinking we could meet them at the leaky cauldron or get a meal out? We'll need to tell them soon," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Invite them over! I can cook, might need to leave work early to prep everything though," you reply, trying to save the plans you'd made.

"Really? You don't have to but,"

"They need to believe we're really together, what better way then to show them that we're living together," you say before reaching a bump in the road, "your stuff will probably need to move in here though, can't have it look like we're sleeping separately, we're not exactly priests."

George nods, following along with your train of thought. "I could bring more of my stuff over? Litter it about, just for a couple of days?"

You shrug in reply, "I don't mind."

"I'll write to mum now and offer them to come here, take the day off tomorrow, then you won't be rushing around, like I know you will," he says with a knowing smirk that you roll your eyes at.

"But you'll be on your own."

"I'll send Ron an owl."

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skipper19 · 7 months

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(A bit of self comfort, because my body feels 100× heavier, and I've been puking since 3 am. this morning. And now, even after the puking era is over, my chest feels like there is a huge hole in it every time I breathe or laugh.)

Imagine this..

Dabi sighs as he fishes the keys out of his back pocket. "Domestic shit.." He scoffs into the chilly night air. Jingling of keys and a click of the front door unlocking interrupted the peacful atmosphere of the apartment complex hallway. Dabi would never admit it, not to you or anyone else, but he was worried about you.

His calls and texts had gone unanswered all day. That was very unlike you. Thanks to your at home job (and your lack of a social life), Dabi never had to think about if you were truly busy or not. Plus, most of the time, you informed him if you were going out for any reason at all. He never told you to do this, and he even made it clear that you didn't have to tell him shit, but you reassured him that you wanted to.

That was one thing Dabi loved about you. You were his loyal girl. He trusted you not to break his charred heart. If anything, he knew he would eventually have to break yours.

Dabi quietly stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind him. He paused and listened for any indication of another person in the abode, but he couldn't hear nor see a thing. All the lights were off, and it was uncomfortably cold. Dabi felt a shiver run up his spine. This was so unlike you.

His normally warm and inviting baby.

Dabi didn't dare call out into the seemingly empty home, just in case. The further Dabi ventured into the apartment, the more he began hearing noises. Right outside your bedroom, Dabi could hear wheezing and shaky exhales. With the worst thought plaguing his mind, Dabi entered the bedroom. Only, he didn't find what he was expecting.

Thank God.

Dabis eyes widened the slightest at the sight before him. You were huddled under your blankets, a trashcan sat idly next to the bed, as you wheezed to breathe in your sleep. You looked pale, and your nose and lips were light pink. Dabi immediately walked to your heater and turned it on high. He didn't care for the electricity bills.

When he approached your bedside, he was hesitant in waking you up. You looked awful.

Dabi gently (surprisingly) laid his hand on your arm and softly rubbed his thumb in circles on your clothed skin. "Baby doll, wake up." He spoke quietly. Your eyebrows scrunched together, and your lips formed a cute pout. Dabi crouched, so he was face to face with you. "Wake up, baby." He spoke a little louder. Your eyes finally opened and fell to the ocean blues in front of you.

"Touya?" You mumbled. Dabi nearly melted at the use of his real name. Your weak and whiney voice turned him soft, yet he would never admit it. "Yeah, it's me. Why didn't you answer your phone? I've been trying to contact you all day. Had me thinking you were dead or some shit.." His words made you glance to your phone. "I've been sleeping all day.. I don't feel good." You whispered. Dabi sighed. "I can see that much." He retorted.

A sudden whine left your lips as you curled in on yourself. "I-I don't feel good." Tears welded in your eyes as you clamped your eyes shut. Dabi moved the trashcan closer to you, and sure enough, you leaned over the side of the bed and puked your guts out. Dabi stood up and looked away as he held your hair from your face. He wasn't good at emotional support, but he knew that seeing you like this twisted his gut almost painfully.

Once you were finished, Dabi soothingly rubbed your back before bringing the trashcan to the bathtub and washing it out. He didn't think there was any point and getting you to brush your teeth, considering this definitely wouldn't be the last time you threw up tonight. Dabi came back into your bedroom and placed the trashcan can by your bedside once again. He then cradled your chin in his hand and used a wet rag to wipe your mouth and chin. He threw the dirty cloth in the hamper nearby.

"Take a deep breath, baby, I know." He softly said as you clutched your stomach with one hand and wiped the tears away with the other. "I don't like puking.." You cried. "I'm pretty sure no one does," He teased. "But hey, it's over for now. Take a deep breath and try to go back to sleep." He said as he placed his palm on your forhead. Yep, you had a fever.

Tears faded and soon crying decreased, letting Dabi know you would fall asleep soon. He stood up, only for a weak tug on his coat sleeve to stop him from moving. "Please don't go.." You pleaded. Dabi leaned down and kissed your forhead. "I'm not going anywhere, baby doll, I'm just going to go make you some soup." He reassured. You hesitatantly let go of his jacket and retracted your arm back under the covers. Dabi took this opportunity to retreat to the kitchen.

He sighed and took off his jacket before hanging it on a chair nearby. He didn't know how to cook shit.

-----------------------------------------------------♤

About two hours go by, and Dabi finally has some resemblance of "soup" sitting in a pot on your stove. He pinched the ridge of his nose. A headache was quickly forming behind his eyes, which reminded him, you need some medication..

Dabi entered your bedroom with a bowl of soup, water, and two pills ready. He set the supplies down on the bedside table, where he noticed that your phone was lighting up with messages. He glanced at your sleeping form (now facing the opposite direction) and grabbed your phone. Dabi always teased you about what an introvert you are, "And everyone says I'm the loner," he would say, so, yes, these repetitive messages were odd. Dabi entered the phones password and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Must be her editor.." Dabi mumbled as he pressed on the text bubble. The action sent him straight to the chat room with, technically, your boss. Dabis eyebrows furrowed in irritation as he scrolled through the many unread messages. Constant pestering about your books deadline and your absence in responding to him. The bastard went as far as to try guilt, tripping you into writing more on your book, despite your message yesterday that you didn't feel too well. Your last message to the guy, and enough that he should have left you alone.

Dabi sent a quick message to the douchbag and smirked as the guy began blowing up the device once again. Dabi only silenced the notification sound in response.

He then cut off your phone before tossing it back on the wooden desk. He sat himself on the bed next to your huddled form and gently rocked your shoulder. He smirked when you curled closer to yourself and shivered. "I've got some medicine and food for you, but you have to sit up." You grumbled, yet you slowly complied. Though Dabi did have to help you move thanks to your limbs, feeling the weight of elephants sitting atop them.

You were sitting against your bed frame with the blankets wrapped around your shoulder, lidded eyes, and pouting lips. You looked adorable.

"You're going to eat some of this soup, and then you can take these pills." Dabi said as he brought the bowl of food to his lap. Dabi didn't acknowledge your sniffle nor your hiccup, as he brought the spoon up to his lips and blew on the substance. After he was sure it wouldn't burn your tongue, he brought the spoon to your lips. You weakly opened your mouth and allowed him to feed you.

He noticed that you resisted the urge to gag. "My cooking really that bad?" He joked. You lightly smiled and shook your head. "No.. I just really don't want to eat anything.. I've lost my appetite for days because of this stupid stomach bug.." You admitted. Dabi hummed but didn't say a word.

He continued to feed you until you physically couldn't eat anymore. Dabi took the bowl to the kitchen and placed it in your sink before returning by your bedside. He helped you take the pills before laying you back down to rest some more. He kept you facing him this time, in case the trashcan was in need of use. His hand unconsciously rubbed soft circles into your arm.

"You probably shouldn't stay.. I don't want you getting sick, Touya.." You mumbled sleepily. The effect of bile running up your throat all day was obvious on your voice. Dabi only chuckled and shook his head before pushing some hair from your face. "Nah.. I've got no place better to be than right here taking care of my baby."

#mha touya #bnha dabi #dabi #mha dabi #dabi x reader #mha x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #bnha touya #touya todoroki #touya x reader #fluff #sick reader #fanfic #comfort

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readychilledwine · 7 months

Text

Training Tensions

A second part of Early Mornings (link in masterlist and coming soon) in a way. Showing the beginning of the mateship/courting between Cassian, our illyrian oc (who now has a name), and Nesta. But with a plot twist so I have an excuse for something that may get posted later.

Summary - Nesta can't help falling harder and harder for Irelina. They've been ignoring it for months now, but the dam has to break at some point

Warnings - fxmxf threesome inferred, oral, mentions of a trouple/poly-relationships, husband encouraging someone else to bang his wife (because Cassian is a king), mentions of impact play, wing play, oh and some actually emotionally stuff. It's NSFW but not as spicy as I've been known to post

A/N - I hadn't intended to add to Early Morning much, but when I'm in a writers block, my mind goes back to her, Nesta, and Cassian, and the emotional bond between her and Nesta. So you may occasionally see pieces of them sprinkled between other updates.

"He's just selfish!" Nesta landed another harsh punch that had Irelina smiling with pride inside despite the stinging in her hands growing. "He just thinks he knows everything," another sharp punch landed on her pad. "And for being able to get into people's heads, he understands nothing."

The final blow caught her off guard. Nesta pulled a move the young female watched her use while she was sparring with Cassian. A faked right into a left into the stomach. Nesta gasped as she doubled over. Eyes wide in shock as she began to cough.

"I'm so sorry!" Nesta was at her side, a hand gently touching her back. "I-"

"Don't apologize," she wheezed out. She placed her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths through her nose as Cassian ran over.

"What happened?" Nesta backed away, only for Irelina to reach for her hand and hold her there. Electricity shooting through her at the contact.

"She's a visual learner," is all she said. "She took a fake shot on me and it worked because we had hardly even discussed that yet. I'm so proud of you, Ness."

Nesta's face slightly flushed with the praise before she buried it away.

Training the next day involved her and Nesta in meditation. Focusing on their inner self. "I can feel how unsettled you are. Talk to me." It was a gentle invitation. One Nesta took immediately.

"I just do not understand how you all sat there and did not tell Feyre she would die."

Nesta watched her eyes open. "There was not a single day that went by since I found out that I did not want to tell her. Trust me." Irelina paused, looking towards where Cassian and Azriel were sparring. "It just was not my place. I do agree it was not handled properly, though."

Nesta's mind froze, unprepared to have her feelings validated. "You don't think I'm wrong?"

She shook her head at Nesta, eyes closed again. "I think Rhysand, my dearest brother, should have included his mate and wife in decision making regarding their babe and her body. I feel HE should have told her right away and included her in the search to find solutions."

She opened her eyes, finally looking at Nesta with that gaze that reminded the younger female of molten honey. "I do not think you told her from a place of genuine concern and love, though. That is the only thing I do not believe was handled correctly on your end."

Nesta sook her head. "I do love her, it was concern."

"It is not your love I question, Ness. It's your intention. In your heart, yes, you meant well. In your subconscious, no." Nesta studied the illyrian female, her beautiful face and scarred wings. "I think you are grieving so deeply, Nesta, your heart has begun to be poisoned. You are blinded by your rage and hurt. I understand that heartache."

"We failed you," she continued. "We failed you, and Elain, multiple times. We failed you when you were forced into that Cauldron, we failed you when you were recovering, we failed you when your father died, and we failed you after the war."

Nesta felt her heart swelling, her eyes beginning to water. She had longed to hear those exact words for nights now.

"I failed you," Irelina said softly. "I failed you when I allowed you to go down the same pathway I did of numbing yourself through booze and sex. I failed you when I wasn't there every day and night holding you. I failed you, and I will never be able to make up for it."

She held her hand to Nesta, then gently laced their fingers together. "Everything you are feeling, little dove, every piece of anger, of longing, of sadness, of self doubt, of absolute burning sheer rage, you are valid in those feelings. You are allowed to feel those feelings." She brought Nesta's hand to her lips, kissing the top of it gently, "it's how we move forward in how you process those feelings, how you let them free, that makes the difference in your soul's peace or turmoil."

Nesta was awake before her. Before Azriel and Cassian. Eyes locked in the fire burning in the hearth. Her dreams were haunted by Irelina, but not the way her nightmares had plagued her.

They were haunted by gentle touches, soft whispered words of love, support, and encouragement.

They were haunted by memories of the two of them, when Rhys would allow her off her leash and the two of them would spend time reading, finger tips running up and down her arm as Irelina jotted down notes for reports or flipped her horror novel behind her.

Nesta jumped when soft hands found her waist, a kiss placed on her temple. "Why are you up so early, dove?" She shivered at the sound of her voice laced in sleep. "Want breakfast or coffee? I can steal some tea from Azriel too?"

Nesta's mind flashed to the last time they had breakfast alone, to when Irelina served her coffee and the fluffiest pancakes she had ever had. Nesta had hardly been able to control herself around Irelina and Cassian for weeks after that, but her rage towards Cassian helped. Her jealousy of hearing him make his wife a begging mess helped.

"I was wondering if we could not train today?" Nesta asked quietly. "Just take a day to relax, you and me?"

"I'd have to ask Azriel," she said. "But I will work something out with him. Did you want breakfast?"

Azriel had not let Nesta out of training. Following his orders to a t, much to both of the females disappointment.

Nesta and Irelina were sparring basic hand to hand and currently locked together. It didn't take her but a spare second to take Nesta to the ground, straddling her hips and pinning her hands above her head.

Nesta's chest was heaving, her eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. Irelina's brows scrunched together at the same time Cassian gripped his chest over his heart and Azriel's shoulder.

She was off Nesta in an instant, moving through the House of Wind as Nesta ran after her.

She locked herself into the bathroom of her and Cassian's room, sinking against the wall. Nesta jiggled the door handle forehead against the cool wood, "Irelina, let me in." She knocked softly. "Talk to me, please. I know you're scared. I was scared when I felt it too, but you've made me feel so safe, please."

She heard Cassian's footsteps. "Lark? Baby, what's wrong?" Irelin didn't answer. Sitting with her head against the wall, a new silver thread gleaming next to a golden one. She tugged them both before closing the bond down.

Cassian knew the message, placing a hand around Nesta's shoulders as he saw that pretty silver string too. "Give her a little bit, dove. She's shocked."

"You knew?" Cassian nodded at her question.

"Of course, dove. I knew the second I laid eyes on you in that manor you were mine, ours." Lark and dove, Nesta noted immediately. His little birds. The thought spread warmth through her body. The thought of being his. Of being Irelina's. Of being theirs.

Irelina skipped dinner, punching her feelings into one of the spare bags into the early hours of night.

Nesta could feel her confusion, her excitement, her pain radiating through her hands.

Cassian and Azriel had left for the evening claiming there was an emergency in Windhaven, and telling Nesta to behave herself while they were gone. Nesta closed her book, walking to the training grounds and sitting to watch Irelina.

She was covered in sweat, muscles and breasts shining in the light of the full moon. She struck the punching bag quick, precise, and repeatedly. She was wearing nothing more than a tight pair of leggings and a bra built for training. Her dark hair was messily braided back with a few pieces framing her high cheekbones.

Nesta felt her eyes trapped on the muscles flexing in her thighs and arms. Irelina paused, her head turning to Nesta. She shook whatever thoughts were running through her mind off and went back to beating the punching bag.

The loud flapping of wings and a soft thud next to Nesta ripped her from the inappropriate place her mind was going.

"She likes to bathe after doing this," it was an emotionless purr that made Nesta growl. "She likes lilac oils and red wine. Plenty of bubbles."

Nesta glared towards Rhysand. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Cassian asked me to ensure you took care of her tonight since he won't be here to do it himself. It is your duty, after all, as her mate." Rhysand took off again, flying back to the home he and Feyre were staying in.

Her mate. The words replayed over and over again like a crescendo in a symphony. Her mate.

Nesta prepared a bath for her, pouring the scented oil and wine for both of them, and waited. Irelia froze at the door, already wrapped in a towel.

Nesta took a step back from the bath, sitting in the vanity chair. "I thought you needed something to help you relax. You don't seem okay lately."

She nodded. "Thank you." She moved toward the tub, stepping shamelessly out of the towel and into the warm water. Nesta was reading her romance novel while Irelina bathed. Her eyes locked on the sultry scene being painted for her between the two female love interests. Her thighs began to squeeze together occasionally, begging for friction.

Her eyes began to flick to the naked illyrian female. Her breasts were peeking above the water, bubbles hiding the toned body and curves below.

Nesta was desperate to touch her. To kiss her. To have her. "Your back looks sore," she stated. "Do you want me to come rub it?"

The scent in the air changed immediately. The lilac oil mixing with something slightly musky. "If you'd like to?"

Nesta swallowed that bit of fear in her bones, moving to the tub behind her and sitting with her legs in the warm water.

The steam in the room was thick as if it was adding to the tension between the two females. Nesta moved her wet dark hair over one shoulder and began rubbing her shoulders. A soft moan had Nesta almost pausing before moving lower. "Cassian needs to give you a massage," Nesta joked.

"He tries," she laughed out. "He really does. But he gets distracted."

"I can see how." The words came out before Nesta could stop them. They hung in the air like magic. Lingering in their effect on both of them. Irelina turned between Nesta's legs, wet hands trailing her bare right calf.

"You can't say things like that, Nesta. Our self control with you is already low." She lifted Nesta's long left leg over her shoulder and trailed a few testing kisses up her calf. "There's so many things I long to do to you, Nesta."

The oldest Archeron sister's face had flushed. She pulled her dress up further exposing her legs, then her stomach, then her breasts until it was off and they were both laid bare to each other. "Show me," Nesta whispered. "Show me what you want to do to me."

So Irelina did.

Cassian could smell sex in his room the second the door opened. He knew one scent immediately. Pomegranate and currants, his wife. The other a vanilla spicy musk with touches of amber.

A familiar moan had him hard instantly as he moved mindlessly to the bathroom door.

The sight behind that door was heaven. Nesta had his mate laid out on the tile bathroom floor, her back arched as her hands tangled in Nesta's freed long hair.

Nesta had her head between his mate's thighs, tongue and mouth working her timidly but encouraged by each hair pull and breathy gasp. "Like that, Ness, please, fuck."

Cassian moved the chair Nesta had previously been in, drinking the wine that was opened straight from the bottle. Nesta looked up, seeing him and pausing, ripping a pleading whine to leave his wife's throat.

"Don't stop on my account," his voice was deep, laced with arousal as he watched Nesta. "Keep going, Ness. Unless you need me to show you how to make that pretty bird sing?"

Nesta's eyes grew dark at the offer. At the thought of learning how to draw the same noises from Irelina the way Cassian did. He smirked, moving to Nesta. He took one of his wife's beautiful legs, placing it over Nesta's shoulder, similar to how she had pulled Nesta apart earlier. "Do to her exactly what you want done to you, Ness."

So she did, sucking her clit into her mouth and licking that bundle of nerves.

"Fuck. Please?" Moans turned into whimpers as Irelina pulled Nesta's face further into her heat.

Cassian ran a long finger down Nesta's spine, feeling every bump and ridge. Memorizing every building muscle. Nesta hummed under his touch, sending vibration through his wife causing another crying moan. "Is this okay, Nesta?" She whined in response, arching up for Cassian. "What a beautiful little thing you are, sweetheart. We've wanted you for so long."

"So long," his mate moaned and confirmed.

Nesta woke up between two warm bodies, two sets of wings caging her in like weighted blankets of protection. She turned to her side and traced Irelia's Face and played with her lashes causing the other female to wrinkle her nose and pull her closer. "Did we hurt you?" Nesta shook her head at the sleepy tone from the other female. "This doesn't have to change anything between us, Ness. We can still just cuddle, read, and be friends."

Nesta swallowed thickly. "And if I want more? If I'm ready for more?"

"Then we're more," she whispered. "But he is part of the deal, so you two will need to work on your…. Current relationship."

"I don't know how."

She ran a hand through Nesta's hair. "Let him train you with me. Stop pushing him away. Talk to him. Cassian can be rough, but once those walls you two seem to fortify around each other melt and bend, you're both these soft creatures needing love and validation. Gentle understanding."

She pulled Nesta to her, kissing her lips softly. Nesta rolled them over carefully, a hand going to Irelia's Delicate wing, making her arch her back.

"Oh?" Nesta rose a brow. "I thought Feyre was kidding."

Irelia shook her head quickly. "Pretty serious. Watch." She watched as Irelina danced long limber fingers on the ridge of Cassian's wing. "Get on top of him. Take what's yours, dove. I know you want him back inside of you." She tugged that string, making Nesta gasp. "Shall we turn him to putty?"

Cassian woke up to Nesta on his already hard cock, riding as she kissing Irelina, whose pretty dripping cunt was just in reach of his happily awaiting tongue.

Azriel sat with his hands folded at the table as the three of them emerged one by one. The scent of it was overwhelming. The ridiculously pungent bond. The heavy scent of sex.

He rose a brow at Irelina, knowing the female would tell him everything shamelessly to draw jealousy out of him.. "Anything happen while we were gone? Anything I as Nesta's babysitter need to know about."

She rolled her eyes at him, forcing Nesta into her normal seat next to Cassian and taking the spot next to Azriel.

"You can join us next time if it makes you feel better, Spymaster." Cassian and Nesta's eyes both lit up. "Maybe I'll even let you beat me with a cane or hang me from the ceiling."

Nesta noticed how that immediately got Azriel's attention. His scarred hand flying to Irelina's neck. "You know better than to tease me, little bat." Azriel smirked at the shock on Nesta's face. "Welcome to the throuple, Ness. Excuse me while I go remind this pretty little thing who is actually in charge between the 3 of us." He took Irelina by her neck back up the stairs, whispering in her ear as he moved with her.

Cassian leaned back with a smirk. "Welcome, dove. Might want to start mentally preparing for that one."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #cassian x nesta #nesta x reader #nessian x reader #cassian x illyrianoc

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katiapostsss · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐃 . . p. I, anakin skywalker

🎬//

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ:

to conquer your own thoughts, you're forced to begin training with the being who second-handedly started them in the first place. anakin skywalker.

ᶜ ʰ ᵃ ʳ ᵃ ᶜ ᵗ ᵉ ʳ ˢ :

ᵃⁿᵃᵏⁱⁿ ˢᵏʸʷᵃˡᵏᵉʳ x

ᶠᵉᵐ! ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

warnings! :

swearing, mentions of abuse

part 2 >

〰️

( i have—surprisingly—not watched star wars, so i really do apologize if any of the information is incorrect)

anakin knew nothing about love, though, that was expected.

as a jedi, any love—familial or romantic or even platonic—was strictly warded against. he knew not what it felt like, nor what it even truly was. he prided himself in it, too, the fact that he could so easily discard any unnecessary—unwanted feelings. it was, for so long, a good thing. but during you, it got to be a barbarous curse.

he suspected. he suspected it was indeed love damning his heart, threatening his title, plaguing him. he suspected it was you who was damning him. you and your stupid, fatuous smiles—that were never for him—your heedful eyes. everything about you, perhaps. and it made his skin crawl with what he wished so purely and truly was hate. but it was not. he knew that much, because he had grown to know hate. he had walked by its side and held its hand in battle. out of battle. he knew hate like a brother. this was not hate.

though, he imagined you must've hated him.

maybe he did go a bit too hard on you, a youthful, naïve padawan, too easily distracted, so easily tangled in your own thoughts. it was your one weakness on the battlefield, for you were a skilled warrior, a worthy opponent, despite your abstractedness. any hilt of any blade fit so easily in your hand, like it was your own bone that you wielded. it impressed anakin, truly, that unabashed skill. it was the reason you were his padawan in the first place. but your own emotions would be the death of you if you could not learn to bury them away.

a saber at your legs, the locking of knees, a grunt, and you were on the ground as easily as a lawn chair folding. you groaned loudly, head throbbing and a ringing filling your ears, your backside aching profusely. anakin. stupid. of course he had used that foolish move you hated so much, meant to avert your attention elsewhere. he had looked off to the side, and curious, you had followed his gaze, getting knocked to the dirt not a moment later. hours. it had been so many hours, out in the sun, battling him like he was the sworn enemy he made himself in your eyes, and sweat was slipping down your back, and your limbs were so weak, and your joints groaned and protested against any movement you executed. disgruntled and uncaring of the mess you most definitely looked, you dropped your arms to the ground, giving up entirely.

"one would think you'd finally stop falling for that trick after using it on you for so long." you faintly heard across from you, anakin's arms now crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes boring into your own, dull ones, which were half-lidded and begging for rest. your entire body was begging for rest, as were your thoughts. even the stark ground below you seemed oh so comfortable at that moment. "training does not include sleeping, ace."

"don't call me that," you managed to wheeze. ace. a nickname he had deemed you when you had first started your practices. he never told you why, even when you asked. some research told you it was another way of saying, "best", or, "top", which might've been a compliment if it weren't coming from him. you snarled in his face about it the very next morning. "and one would think you'd finally stop using it once you realized i'd always fall for it."

on shaky—embarrassingly so—limbs, you propped yourself up onto your elbows, promptly panting. anakin's eyes narrowed, face contorting into that of disappointment. you knew that expression so well. it was what kept you up at night, what haunted your dreams like a monster under a child's bed.

"one day," he replied simply, extending a gloved hand to help you up. as if you needed it. (you did). eyes narrowing, you proved to him exactly how stupid he was for being disappointed, struggling very thoroughly to a stand without his help. your legs shook beneath you, as limp as saturated noddles.

"one day that is not today. can we be done here?" you croaked, eyes still staring daggers at him. anakin scowled, shaking his head.

"have you been using the methods?" of course he didn't answer your question. instead, he asked his own. you rolled your eyes, shifting.

"no, i have not. i find them to be useless."

"they are not useless," he countered. the sun was bleating at the back of your head, so hot you felt you might collapse. "if you had used them at all after yesterday's lessons, you would've known that."

"i tried."

"don't lie."

you pursed your lips, your nose scrunching. "my apologies."

anakin weighed a look.

"master," you added, tilting your head down, your eyes swimming with stark vitriol. "my apologies, master."

a moment passed of silence so tangible with angered tension you felt you might drown in it. your throat was caked with dryness, that even swallowing was no use. you needed water. desperately. your teacher looked skeptically at you, and you sent the look right back.

"i expect you to be here tomorrow. at the same time." a groan of relief nearly parted your lips at his words, legs already moving to leave.

"yes, master," you quickly threw out, turning on your heel and walking away, shoulders painfully bunched as the look on your face. his eyes on your retreating figure was the last thing you felt of him before you were out of sight.

---

you didn't know why you hated anakin skywalker.

well, technically you did. you blamed him for it. for that feeling, that stupid, stupid feeling within you. of nothingness. of emptiness. of hollowed-out bone. that feeling that drove you to tears every night. you'd never be good. you'd never be better. your own mother had stated it.

the only thing you remembered of your childhood was palms, raw from being beaten. beaten because you were too sensitive. hours of training, bordering torture, and every time you so much as made a mistake, made a pained face, made a sound of protest, you were to go without dinner, and you were to be beaten. it was why you were so good. you had to learn how to be good if you didn't want to be hit. and that was the only thing you could thank your mother for. your skill.

skills you hated. you didn't hate fighting, but you hated training. you hated failure. each time you fell or grunted or cried out, you half-expected anakin to pull out a ruler and beat your palms bloody, or make you hang from a tree until your shoulders popped out of their sockets, only to pop them right back in and send you to bed without any dinner or medicine. you hated failing. and anakin made you fail.

he was too good. you weren't narcissistic, no. you weren't envious either. not of his talent. he could flaunt it around for all you cared, but you hated losing to him. it reminded you too much of a past you buried deep within you. you weren't an angry person, but for him, you would be.

so you blamed him. and you'd blame anyone in his position. maybe it wasn't his fault. in your eyes, it was. and it would stay that way. you'd hate him and he'd go the rest of his life knowing it, but never knowing to what extent it ran to.

a week had passed since that lesson and you were no better.

your failings were a jealous, conniving friend, incessantly whispering in your ear hateful words to knock you to the ground as anakin did so seamlessly. now, hours after training had ended and you had been dismissed, you still seemed so filthy, even freshly washed, like your soul was the one contaminating your skin, not the dirt that had once matted your hair.

words. there were so many words. you couldn't shut them out. they were a ringing in your ears, they were a reminder in the mirror. the mirror you refused to look at but somehow managed to every now and then. tears sprung to your eyes. so many words. when you stared at your reflection, all you saw was your mother. that only hurt more.

so instead, you stared at your ceiling, sprawled out on your bed, trying and failing to lull your thoughts into that of nothingness. it was no use. it never would be. it was far, far into the night when you fell asleep, finally succumbing to unconsciousness solely because your body demanded it, even when your whirling mind protested against it.

what woke you up was him. him. anakin. a good thing to wake up to, indeed. his face was like a curse, to damn you to a horrible day for the rest of it. but... what? why was he...?

"how was your sleep?" he asked from his place leaning against the doorframe. you shot up in bed, rubbing your eyes and willing your mind into consciousness.

"huh?"

"you slept in," he deadpanned. you stopped, dropping your hands at your sides and groaning, your head falling against your headboard.

"can we postpone—"

"no."

you pursed your lips, eyes narrowing at his damned face. you did not give one flying fuck about the skimpy silk nightgown you had donned earlier last night as you hastily stepped out of bed, watching his eyes slip down your form, widen, and quickly look the other way.

"gonna watch a woman change, too? pervert."

anakin threw you one last, angry stare before stepping out the door and shutting it behind him.

---

"you're dismissed."

"thank you master."

the only thing you planned to do when you got back to your chambers was sleep. to make up for lost time. time anakin had so rudely ripped from you.

pushing open your door, you nearly fell onto your mattress just at the sight of the bed, so beautiful and white and comfortable and soft. so unlike the ground you had hit over and over again minutes earlier. but you couldn't sleep yet. not when you were coated in thick mud. not when your hair was riddled with it, matted and tangled. so instead, you made yourself turn to your bathroom, strip yourself of your fighting leathers, and turn on the shower. while it heated, you risked a glance at the mirror above your sink, and scowled at who looked back.

it took a good 30 minutes to rid yourself of your earlier endeavors. every time you thought you were clean, you looked down only to see brown water flowing down the drain. by the time you were out, the bathroom's air was stuffy and suffocating and wet, struggling down your throat. you did not bother tying up your soaking hair, only pulling on some sleeping attire and crawling into bed. sleep hit you immediately.

but you should've known.

a few hours later, you awoke in a sea of sheets and blankets and warmth. too much warmth. sweat was slipping down your back, your skin chilled with a cold breeze, your mind a whirlwind. almost immediately, you shot out of bed, tripping over your blanket and stumbling across the floor. you couldn’t breathe enough. you were suffocating on nothing. the ground at your feet was freezing, biting, but your skin was nothing at that moment, your nerves weren’t there. you couldn’t feel, not as you tripped into your desk and nearly fell into the bathroom, chest heaving and eyes wide. not as you flipped on your sink and watched icy water gush out, hitting the porcelain with a prompt sound you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears.

on any other day, you would’ve reared back from the freezing water, immobilizing your hands when they cupped together and gathered it, but the only thought running through your head was your earlier dream, still haunting you, even when you were awake. without giving yourself time to think, you splashed the cool liquid onto your face, again and again and again, until your eyes were blurry with invading water. it dripped onto the tiled floor when you turned, blindly searched for the towel rack, and grabbed the cloth strung on it, oddly warm in your shaking hands. you wiped the remaining droplets off of your skin, wiped away the ones that had traveled to your elbows, below your shirt, on your neck. you barely recognized the person who looked back at you in the mirror when you turned around once again. it scared you. your lip quivered, the face of fear, and you stared hopelessly into your own eyes until you couldn’t handle it anymore. you turned on your heel and walked out, in search of someone in particular.

you didn't let yourself think about it. the whole walk. especially when your mind was buzzing and your hands were shaking at your sides, bags beneath your eyes and face pale.

you found anakin talking to padmé, someone you did not know too well but had grown to know the presence of. the sun was sinking in the cloudy sky, swimming into dusk.

"y/n," she greeted upon seeing your approaching figure. you smiled, dipping your head in a warm acknowledgment, which was anything but warm. anakin beside her was staring at you like you'd just told him the world was ending at his feet. "how are you, my friend?"

she was so kind. too kind. you intertwined your fingers in front of you, hoping your smile was believable. "who could not be simply ecstatic with such weather and life thriving around us?"

padmé huffed a laugh, her eyes bright as the sun over her shoulder. "ah, yes. it is quite lovely. are you in need of something?"

finally, finally, you looked to anakin, who was staring strangely at you. who had stayed quiet this whole time. "yes, actually. may i steal master away from you for a moment?"

and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. you? why? what? a breath stuttered in his lungs, his brows raising in confusion. padmé looked to him, then back to you, perfectly unaware. "why, of course! no need to ask," she quickly approved, her smile something you wished your own could be. "have a good rest of your day." and she was gone.

both of you were quiet a moment, looking at each other with equal surprise. surprise on his part that you had asked for his presence. surprise on your part that you had asked for his presence.

surprise about what you were about to ask next.

"yes, y/n? is something amiss—"

"teach me the methods." even more surprise. anakin's lips parted in silent shock, the only sign he was shocked at all save for the ever so slight widen of his eyes. even you were bewildered that you were asking. but there was no other solution for the thoughts in your head. he was right. they needed to be shut down. they needed to be locked away, for they were what caused your failings, and they in turn, accumulated because you failed.

"pardon—?"

"the methods." your hands had unlatched from each other, now flexed in front of you and moving with your words. "for— for my emotions."

anakin looked at you for another moment. strangely. so strangely. he opened his mouth and you nearly winced, tensing, and relaxing once he closed it again. he looked... confused. you understood completely why. and when he dipped his head in a slight nod, turned on his heel and expected you to follow, you were briefly grateful he hadn't teased or asked any further questions. no. not briefly. immensely.

you both walked. and walked. you silently pondered where he was leading you to, but did not inquire out loud. at some point, it became clear that he was guiding you to the place you normally trained. when he finally stopped and turned, you stood in the same place you had only a few hours before.

you finally cleared your throat. "i thought the methods did not include battling—"

"they will soon, when you master them enough to apply them to fighting," he responded before you could even finish. it was so weird, this new tension. not an hour ago, it was snarky comments and rude stares, but now, it was unadulterated seriousness and unwavering stoicism. you felt anakin assess your body, and you involuntarily shifted into your fighting stance, hastily bringing yourself out of it again. "this is where we will practice. we could apply them to your lessons—"

"no," you quickly jumped, which was more instinct than choice. after lessons, you did not want to have to focus on your breathing or bodily control. you wanted to sleep. deeply and thoroughly. anakin quickly scrunched his eyebrows together. "i meant— is there any other time?"

"in the afternoon, yes. is this something you want to do daily?" he asked, and you swallowed down thickness in your throat.

"yes," came the tentative and choked-out answer. he nodded, lips pursing. you were briefly worried he'd continue with his questions, specifically why you wanted to do this. but he didn't. he just sighed through his nose and straightened, and the lesson begun.

---

it was long. and time-consuming. and just slightly annoying.

you couldn't get yourself to focus the way the instructions called for. acknowledge your surroundings and let those thoughts go, they stated. but you couldn't do that. it was supposed to help with distraction, and it took a while for it to actually work. anakin was seated beside you, facing you, while you sat straight ahead. his hands cradled your back and torso, keeping your posture straightened after he had reminded you one too many times to be mindful of it.

beneath his touch, it was difficult not to squirm. you never really touched boys before. save for training, of course. other than that, you never had a reason to. anakin's hands all over you was a plague you weren't sure you were happy about catching. his voice rang through your ears, counting. each time you shook your head, telling him you'd lost track of your breaths and had gotten distracted again, he restarted.

"8.... 9... 10." finally. you couldn't stop now. you'd been working at this for hours. "okay, now let your mind go again." he spoke, and you eased back into yourself. thoughts and colors and feelings exploded all around you, all things you had somehow managed to block out. it was like flying through clear skies and then having your wings clipped midair, plummeting, plummeting, plummeting, until you hit the ground. your eyes shot open, immediately widening, and you looked off to the side, where anakin smiled openly and proudly at you.

"you did it." because you did. for the first time possibly ever, you grinned back at him.

when it was all over, it was late into the night.

the walk back was silent. you didn't speak, and neither did he. not about your earlier lessons or the ones to come. or the fact that this meant most of your day would be spent with him. it made your stomach flip. for reasons you didn't want to ponder over.

later, you stared at your ceiling once again. night was bleeding into dawn like ink on a wet piece of paper. you tried the method. to fall asleep. just to see if it'd work.

it did not.

hi. if i still have your attention, i want to use it to talk about what's going on in gaza. during the superbowl, the last safe zone was bombed by israelis who lured innocent palestinians to it, claiming it was what would keep them safe from their advances. everyone who went there died.

everyday, people die in gaza and other parts of palestine by the hands of israelis. their forces are dying off, they have nothing. no hospitals, food, running water. absolutely nothing.

there are many ways you can help. i assure you, you do not need starbucks to live. if you care even a bit for the children who suffer everyday, for the men who die and the women who are tortured, you will forget about your pink drink or your coffee, and you will help boycott. you do not need even a penny to support palestine, you just need to start refusing service of those restaurants.

a man lit himself on fire, as well, as a last cry for help and a protestation. for gaza. he lit himself on fire, and the israeli force's first instinct was to lift their guns and threaten to shoot him. while he was burning to death. it's worse than you think, and if you support israel, i ask that you get off of my page.

there are so many people on instagram and youtube and tiktok that you can follow, so many things you can do without spending a penny. i ask that you please help. nothing will change if we don't.

free palestine 🇵🇸

| part 2 >

@kingdomhate :)

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #fanfic #hayden #hayden christensen #star wars #star wars anakin #fandom #sam monroe #anakin x you #anakin imagine #anakin fanfiction #anakin smut #sw anakin #anakin and padme #obi wan and anakin

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firenati0n · 4 months

Text

roop's first rwrb fics aka fics that left an impact aka fics that kicked off her rwrb fic love aka fics that make her heart go weeeoooweeeooo <3

hello! this list was quite literally revealed to me in a dream just now...which means now you all have to read it. happy holidays. a gift for you.

i read RWRB when it released, but started reading rwrb fics earlier this year during some tough titty times...and have since discovered a gorgeous community of folks just pouring their hearts out into the fandom fabric, giving me the courage to start putting bits of my work out there as well. here are some of the works that were present in my life at VERY roop-specific moments this year:

First fic I sent kudos to (i caved and made an ao3 after reading this one lmaoooo): With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes

First fic that forced me to send my first tumblr ask screaming directly at the author for my feelings: also With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes

First fic I bookmarked with the knowledge that this fic would destroy me: all that glitters (is not gold) by @indomitable-love

First fic I reread immediately after finishing like literally immediately: Going Platinum by @cricketnationrise

First fic I sent to someone not in the rwrb fandom but is a fan of the au so i schemed that this fic would suck them into the rwrb fandom and I was successful: Rogue's Gallery by @orchidscript

First fic(s) I sent to a boy as a bizarre mating ritual that actually worked: lifelines by @indomitable-love, Am I the Asshole? by @everwitch-magiks, and i ask you how you're doing (and i let you lie) by @matherines (his first fics, he loved them btw)

First fic that made me ugly cry not because it was inherently sad but because i achieved emotional catharsis i was not expecting: One Too Many Mornings by @orchidscript

First fic that made me CRY LAUGH until i was wheezing: and history remembered. by @sherryvalli

First fic that was a WIP I followed and screamed with each update: Cold Cases, Lost Causes by @tintagel-or-cockleshells

First fic that made me run laps around my room in sheer stress: Nova, Baby by @cha-melodius

First fic that made me run laps around my room in sheer thirst: Show Me What You're Working With by @clottedcreamfudge

First fic that made me giggle and kick my feet and blush: No Sense or Sensibility by @inexplicablymine

First fic that made me cry buckets in a costco parking lot: i ask you how you're doing (and i let you lie) by @matherines

First fic that made me learn something new about myself and patched up a crack in my heart: Down By The Water, I Saw You by @myheartalivewrites

First fic that taught me something I didn't know and had me doing a deep dive on wikipedia for 3 straight hours: Moonlighting by @orchidscript

First fic that had me writhing on the floor in absolute agony: What Do I Know? by @three-drink-amy

First fic that made me stare tearfully at a wall in quiet contemplation: Help Me Hold On to You by @affectionatelyrs

First fic that had me slamming subscribe to a series faster than I could say "kinktober": Temperature's Up, 'Bout to Erupt by @sparklepocalypse

First fic that opened my eyes to a whole new world of tags and also a new part of my brain: In His Wildest Dreams by @myheartalivewrites

First fic that made me feel such insane amounts of pining and yearning and longing that i had to take a walk: but if you could see us from a distance, you’d know i’ve always been so close to you by @anincompletelist

First fic that made me rethink my life while sitting in a DMV lobby waiting to renew my driver's license: Deep Blue by @myheartalivewrites

First fic that made me stay up all night to comment on each chapter as I read it in one sitting: Omakase by @orchidscript

First fic that I reread and live reacted to the author 3 hours before my dissertation was due instead of finishing the damn paper: to the victor, the spoils by @rmd-writes

First fic that made me feel incredibly homesick and had me looking up flights at 4am: after hours by @dumbpeachjuice

And finally... First fic I ever wrote after reading all of these incredible fics and wanting to also put a little piece of silly roop out into the world: our world, mine and his alone (the midnight train to go) by me :)

if you made it this far, thanks for reading. love you all. <3

xoxo roop

#rwrb fics #fic recs #rwrb #fanfiction #roop writes #my post #i fucking love y'all so much #cannot even emphasize that enough #roop recs

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rottingpirate · 1 year

Note

Hello I want to cowardly ask you for some light angst with könig if it's not a problem. I've been craving some sweet angsty comfort with the big guy

Maybe something happened during mission and he got overwhelmed and stuff and reader finds him and comforts him

I absolutely love your writing btw I'd marry you if I could

Staawp ily <3

Lucky to have you || König x M!reader

Warnings: sensory overload, emotional hurt/comfort

Wrong. Everything was wrong.

His hands started to shake as soon as he got off the helicopter. He wanted to disappear. To pretend like he wasn’t here and instead somewhere else. Not feel anything. He was so tired and all he wanted to do was get into his room and stay there forever.

He hated it, the talking, the whispering and murmuring, the bright lights of the base, how tight his shirt felt, the light smell of your cologne. He hated it all. Every little thing had gotten on his nerves today, from unnecessary words to his struggle in opening the cabinets to successfully completing the mission.

He was exhausted. The type of exhausted that just sleep couldn’t fix, the exhaustion that creeps into your bones, dragging you under water and not letting you swim back up.

He took a deep breath, then another.

He got closer towards the entrance of his room. As soon as he got there he wanted to melt into the ground, to turn into a small puddle of nothingness. But even that wish didn’t come true as there was a knock on his door almost as soon as he closed it.

Another knock. Every sharp movement resonated in his skull.

Your voice. "König, can I come in?"

He nodded. When nothing happened he mentally cursed himself, you couldn’t see him after all. "Yes." His voice shook and felt embarrassed.

"Hey," You muttered, walking in and closing the door behind you. "What’s goin’ on?"

You. You were here. You were in his room. No. You couldn't see him like this. You shouldn't see him this weak and vulnerable. Or maybe he deserved it.

He screwed his eyes shut feeling self-conscious.

"Woah, hey, are you okay big guy?" Your voice was soft as you approached him, footsteps stopping in front of him.

"Too…much."

"Okay, try breathing in and out slowly, just try to relax..."

The man sucked in a shaky breath, holding it for a second before blowing it out slowly. It helped, but it wasn't enough. "Can I touch you?" König's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded. A strong hand rested against his shoulder, another hand resting on his knee.

"I need you to breathe with me, yeah?" it almost sounds like you're pleading. Voice shakes where it was once strong.

König opens his mouth and tries to do as you say, but it's too much. His chest stutters and he's left wheezing.

"Slow down, König," Your tone has dropped to a whisper, your mouth is right against König's ear and he focuses all his energy on your voice.

Anything but the pain in his chest and the tears building around his eyes. "In through your nose, slowly and out through your mouth." He puts emphasis on the words slowly and König does as asked.

"Alright, keep doing that. Can you name one thing you can taste?" It was a strange request, but König thought about it for a moment, mumbling his answer.

"Coffee." You brought him a cup this morning.

"Okay, good. Now tell me two things you can smell."

"Gasoline and...books?" He heard a light chuckle.

"Okay, yeah. Three things you can hear."

He listened, trying to identify every small sound he heard. "The wind...people talking...and...your voice."

"Okay. How about four things you can feel?"

"My clothes, the ground...the bed sheets...you..." He was feeling slightly better and his breathing was more controlled.

"Okay, will you open your eyes for me?" You wondered.

König let out a shaky breath, opening his eyes slowly. He was met with a kind smile, and you were crouched down right in front of König.

"Um-"

"There, okay, lastly five things you can see." You were right infront of him, and König didn't want to look away. He knew what you looked like, but he had never seen you this close. You were beautiful.

"The wall, um... the door. A book..." his gaze shifted back to you. "Your eyes. And... your hand on my leg." Smiling, you nodded.

"Good. Better?" König nodded, knowing he was staring, but not really caring. You let out a small laugh, taking your hands off him.

"Thank you"

"König," You spoke softly. "Are you feeling a bit better?"

"Y-Yeah," He says. He sniffs and shuffles closer to you and whispers back "Please… please stay." He flings his arms around you.

"Please stay."

"Of course I’ll stay."

#könig #könig my beloved #könig x male reader #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #call of duty modern warfare #x male reader #könig x reader

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eveenstar · 3 months

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heii!! ^^, can you make another hoodie x reader one-shot? i've come to love ALL of your scenarios ,, left me wanting more :D

if you don't want to do this... well! thats fine, i'd understand! ^^

maybe... hoodie's hurt? and reader cares for him?

hurt, as in, wounded! like, knife stab or something!

thank you,

take care

One injured Hoodie coming through! This was interesting to write. Hope you enjoy! Sorry it's short. Take care! ♡

your blood in my hands (and I wouldn't have it any other way) | Brian Thomas/Hoodie

tw: reader's gender isn't specified. Obvious blood mentions, nothing too gory.

Beneath your hands, Brian lays as still as a rock. He doesn't flinch from your touch, not after the last three reprimands you muttered under your breath. It was odd enough that he let you tend to his wound, even more that he actually listened to you! Then again, there was a bullet wound on his body. Thankfully, it hadn't punctured any organs. Still, you were surprised someone had managed to survive long enough to shoot him.

Ah, well, Brian wasn't a young man anymore. He was closer to his mid forties than his mid twenties.

And with the number of Americans now possessing guns as if it were candy? Tsk. That was bad for business. Brian's business, that is.

"That's enough." Brian uttered, pulling himself up to his feet - and almost sliding back down onto the blood-stained chair with a frustrated hiss. "Fuck.."

"You lost too much blood." You sat back, rummaging through the old medpack. Living with a stalker-killer "employed" by an eldritch being, far away from any civilization, had forced you to take on skills such as cleaning wounds (of any kind), sewing and cooking with the bare least you had.

You sighed. "I thought... Why did you take on such a mission alone? Why not take a lesser one with you?"

"It is what He asked of me."

The words fell off painted in tones of melancholy and numbness. There was no trace of emotion behind them, like a corpse. If it wasn't for his beating heart or the living blood that stained your hands, you would've thought Brian was as much of a dead man as those that fell to his hands.

Resigned, you closed the medpack. "Then you should tell him that you are not allowed to go on any missions that aren't scavenging for information."

For the first time that morning, a hint of emotion reflected on his eyes. Raising an eyebrow, a wheeze of laughter escaped his lips. "Allowed?"

"Yes," You mimicked his expression. "You care for me, I care for you. That was our deal."

"Our deal," Brian leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees. He bared his teeth at you in a low hiss, "did not include you bossing me around."

Still mimicking him, you too leaned closer until the tips of your noses were grazing each other. "Consider our deal emended."

For the briefest of moments, you thought Brian would lash out, pull you away as he always did. When his eyes narrowed, you prepared yourself for the worst. Your gazes met, and you hoped to see the man behind the walls Brian built around himself. You had his blood in your hands, but you didn't have his heart. No, his heart already belonged to something far above you.

Far darker.

The flicker of his gaze to your lips did not go unnoticed. You were close enough to smell the iron-blood in his skin and feel his breath mixing with yours. You believed Brian would kiss you right then and there.

Instead, he stood to his feet with unprompted strength. With a low rumble, he said, "Your skill with the needle has improved."

You assumed that was his way of thanking you and acknowledging your efforts. One, for removing the bullet. Two, for cleaning the wound. Three, for stitching it. You huffed lightly; Brian should be thankful you didn't take advantage of his altered state, stumbling bloody upon the kitchen at early sunrise and take him out of his misery right then and there.

Then again, you doubted you could take a man of his size and strength even when injured. A deep but low voice whispered in the back of your mind that that was not the only reason; you were in this with Brian. There was no turning back. Surely, no one sane enough would happily remain in your position.

Maybe you two weren't so different after all.

#brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #marble hornets x reader #creepypasta x reader #hoodie creepypasta

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

I highly feel that Geto is way too stressed and Gojo senses that. I feel that Gojo would totally wreck him to relieve some of that stress. To just slow down and laugh freely.

KERKJER Thank you so much, anon! And AHH! Lee!Geto!!! I need fluff after these past few episodes of JJK, lemme tell you! I've gotcha covered, y'all!

CW: Swearing, Panic Attacks

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)

@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

Midterms are coming up, I need to study-

My new technique has too many quirks to use-

Why are we doing this? What’s the point of it all-

Did I turn off the stove this morning? Oh god- Gojo couldn’t hear these thoughts, but he knew Geto long enough to read the dread on his friend’s face like a paperback novel. Staring at his friend spiraling, he reached out and flicked him in the forehead.

“Ow! The hell’s wrong with you, Satoru?” Geto flailed, shocked out of his reverie as he glared daggers at him. “What is it?”

“You’re doing it again.”

Geto froze over, eyes going blank and jaw slightly slacked. Then he flushed, ears red as he averted his gaze, slumping. “How bad was it?”

“Like you were witnessing a murder. Or Shoko stealing your rice balls.” Gojo grinned as he reached out, shaking Geto’s shoulder. “Come on, Suguru- breathe! Whatever’s got you freaking out will work itself out. It always does!”

“It’s not that easy. Sure, logically I know things are gonna be fine, but my brain won’t accept that! I can’t get it to shut down and I just-” Caught in a whirlwind of sudden emotion, Geto bowed his head in defeat, slumping forward like a slacked marionette. “I just…”

“Hey, hey- breathe. Seriously.” Dropping his teasing tone, Gojo rested his hand on Geto’s back, rubbing small circles. “Just breathe right now. Nice and slow…”

Geto did so, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he gasped around shaky breaths. He barely heard Gojo’s voice anymore, but that was fine. The hand on his back was more than reassuring. Slowly, he was brought out of his near-panic attack. “Sorry.”

“Pfft- you’re such a sap.” Relieved his friend sounded better, Gojo did what he did best. He began poking Geto. “Next you’re gonna tell me how grateful and appreciative you are of me! Just like a shoujo manga! Come on, confess your love!”

“Ah! Aheahaha, screhehehw yoohohohohu! Sahhahatohohoru!” Geto shot back at the sudden tickle, trying and failing to block out Gojo’s hands. “Cuuhuhuhut it ohohohohut! Aheahhaha, dohohohon’t!”

“Don’t what? Don’t hold back your feelings? It’s okay- let them out! Tell me how much you looooove me!” Gojo sang, bringing one hand to Suguru’s neck as the other wormed beneath his arm. They weren’t nearly his most ticklish spots, but damn if they didn’t get Geto giggling like nobody’s business! “Tell me you think I’m the prettiest boy in the world!”

“Aheahhahaha, lihihihihike hehehheell yoohohohohu ahahahahre! Aheahhahaha, Sahhahatou!” Geto tried to lean away from the other, but Gojo simply followed, climbing on top of him as he pressed into his armpits. “Gehhehhet ohohohoohohohoff!”

“Never! I’m attached to you forever and ever!” Gojo sang, deciding to be bold and going straight for Geto’s hips. “Suguru~ Tell me you love meeeee~”

“AHAHA!” The green haired teen let out a scream, nearly sending the other off with how hard he jerked at the feeling. “SAHHAHTORU!”

“Suguru!” Gojo yelled back, laughing like a hyena as Geto howled and cackled beneath him, feet kicking and torso arching upward in vain attempts to grab the hands massaging his hips. “Look at you, you’re so giggly now! Tickle tickle tickle! A tickle tickle tickle! A tickle tickle tickle, Suguru!”

If he could, Geto would verbally rip his white haired menace of a friend a new one. Alas, Gojo had effectively silenced him- no really; he was going for the dips of his hips that never failed to have him tea-kettle wheezing in place of booming laughter.

With the little strength he had left, he reached out and grabbed Gojo’s sides, squeezing right along the spot he knew his friend was ticklish in. Gojo yelped and jerked, hands coming away from Geto’s hips to grab his wrists. That was the opportunity he needed.

“Whoa!” The world twisted, the ground was suddenly the sky, and above him- a flushed face, heavy breathing Geto glared down at him. “Hey there, gorgeous- how you’ve been?”

“You…huhuhush.” Geto growled without any malice, suddenly too tired to tickle back. Below him, Gojo got comfortable, tucking his arms behind his head and wagging his brows with a small smirk. When Geto met his eye once more, he blew a kiss.

“I hate you.” He groaned as Gojo laughed, falling onto his side and off the other. “You’re so annoying- why are we friends again?”

“Cause we’re the only ones who can stand each other's company.” Gojo winked, earning a light shove. “I don’t mind it if we were the last two on earth; though I bet you’d get bored of me after a while.”

“Never.” The words came automatically and swiftly. Geto blinked- even Gojo seemed taken aback by them. “I’d never get bored of you.” The more he said it, the more real it felt. “I’d be bored to tears without you if I’m being honest.”

“Ehe..you know, I was kidding earlier- about the whole confession thing.” Gojo tried to laugh it off, his cheeks starting to turn pink. “You don’t have to get all sappy with me.”

“No, I mean it. Really.” Geto turned so he was on his side, facing the other. “You’re a real pain in the ass, and half the time I want to strangle you, but you’re also my best friend and one of the coolest guys I’ve ever known. You’re there to keep me from spiraling whenever my headspace gets bad, and you always make me laugh. You find these ridiculous things for us to try whenever you travel, and you always send me pictures of you posing in ridiculous places. You’re important to me. Really, you might be one of the only reasons I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth right about now, so…thanks for that.”

Gojo was quiet as he listened, staring up at the sky as he took in every word. His lips were flat, and he was blinking rather rapidly. “You really are a sap, you know that?” He grinned, his voice somewhat wobbly.

“Oak or maple?” Geto grinned, making Gojo cackle.

“Now kiss me you fool!” Gojo threw himself on top of him, making kissy noises and messing up his hair as Geto laughed beneath him. Soon they were wrestling once more, throwing grass in eachother’s faces and jabbing at tickle spots. It was utterly ridiculous yet special at the same time.

It was just as Gojo said; all of it worked out in the end somehow.

Thanks for reading!

#jjk #tickle #tickle fic #geto suguru #gojo satoru #fuff #satosugu #can be read either platonic or romantic #take your pick #tw: swearing #tw: panic attacks #I got sappy towards the end cause I need fluff lols

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mortiskiller · 10 months

Text

Story: Man to Hog

Text version of my latest audio of the same name. Trigger Warning: Extreme weight gain, immobility, weight gain regret, manipulation and non-consent.

The tears and panic washed over my face. "Fuck, I cant move, fuck fuck!" You Watched me try to move unaided.When we started this journey, I did not really think this would happen, you would have stopped this. But pound after pound, milestone after milestone, I gained. Slow, then faster and faster, at one point it was 50 pounds a month. You would feed me and call me your handsome hog, lull me into being feed past any point of human fullness. I would moan the whole time watching my body swell around me and loving it. I put every negative thought buried under pounds of food and liters of ice cream, you made it so easy. Its what you wanted to see me like this. This morning you helped me up and placed the scale under my feet, as you lifted me up, I wheezed and groaned, it had been weeks since I was on my feet, feeling all my weight. After a few seconds you brought the live stock display to my bloated, puffing, sweating face, the number blurred a little as my eyes were pushed slightly closed since last month. With your other hand you grab my fat face and push the fat back so I can see. Slowly the red blurs become numbers, numbers I cant believe. 987 lbs.

I let out a whimper, my mind racing with fear and disbelief. This couldn't be happening. I was nearly a thousand pounds. How had I let this happen? How had you let this happen?

But then, a small part of me felt a sense of terror, utter terror and realization. No, my mouth manages to eek out.

You watched as conflicting emotions played out on my face. You could see the terror and the realization warring within me. You knew that I was yours, completely and utterly. You had molded me into this, had fed me and cared for me, and now I was your masterpiece.

You reached out and ran a hand over my fat rolls, relishing in the warmth and softness of my body. You leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "You did it, my handsome hog. You're the biggest, the best.

You cackled with glee, your hand still gripping my cheeks as if they were made of putty. Your eyes danced with delight as you looked over your handiwork, the product of months of feeding and pampering. I could barely breathe, my chest heaving with each intake of air. The weight of my own body pressed down on me, making me feel like I was being crushed under a mountain of flesh.

But even as I struggled to come to terms with my new reality, you were already making plans for me. Plans that involved growing me even larger, pushing me to new heights of gluttony and indulgence.

"You look positively delicious," you murmured, tracing a finger down my flabby arm. "We're going to have so much fun with you."

I shuddered, both in delight and fear. Part of me reveled in the idea of being your plaything, your oversized pet to be fed and pampered at your whim.

My knees burned, hips ached, my back was on fire, my body was no longer able to stand unaided. As my fear flooded my body, I felt your hand leave my thick upper side roll, where my beanbag tits meat my 125 inch belly.

You moved your hand to my lower belly, where you could feel the movement of my organs struggling to keep up with the sheer mass that was pressing down on them. I could feel your breath on my neck as you leaned in closer, your voice low and husky in my ear.

"You ready, my handsome hog?" you asked, turning the food balloon that was my body."Its time for your final steps." you cruelly yelled as your hand stung my couch filling ass. Ahead was a single slice of chocolate cake, my favorite. Even with 30K calories for dinner in my sagging gut, it rumbled, it needed food. Drool escaped my lips as I started oinking.

My mind willed me to move but my body refused. Too fucking fat, too greedy, too lazy, to easy to control, too dumb to see what was coming. I shuffled one foot forward, my mind was focused on the cake, the food, i needed it. The slight movement of my foot made my body slump, and collapse. Books fall off the shelf and your jump as nearly half ton falls down, wet watery fat slapping the ground. A breathy fuck screams from my lips. My vision settles on your cute manicured toes and slim ankle. Your foot taps as you say, I am waiting hog. I cant even move my head, you see the ocean of fat pooling on the ground. I watch your feet glide over the floor and grab the cake. You place it on the ground, and push it toward me with your foot. It gets closer and closer, and it seconds the plate is smashed into my face. My new life as man was over, I was a hog now.

#Wg story #Audio #Dark feedism #immobile #weight gain

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chronicowboy · 9 months

Text

for life | 4.3k

It starts when Eddie gets shot. It's a lot of factors all at once that crash together and spiral into what could be the most spectacularly poor string of decisions Buck has ever made, but the taste of his best friend's blood still lingers on his tongue like a thick layer of ash, so maybe it can be excused. Because a sniper's large calibre round had torn through the relative calm of morning in downtown Los Angeles and now Buck knows two things: he's in love with Eddie, and he'd follow him anywhere—even to death.

Except, he can't. Because there's a little boy at 4995 South Bedford Street waiting for his dad to come home, and Buck has to be somehow more than he is. He has to find it in himself to scrub Eddie's blood from his skin and put his own emotions aside, so that he can hold that little boy in his arms and make promises he has no right to make.

Besides, Eddie has a different hand to tether him to life now; small and delicate and gentle in a way Buck's hands never were, never could be—they've only ever been big and bloody and always too late.

So, Buck goes back to the only home he's ever known, changed to the very core of him. He thinks about how the cells of the human body are constantly regenerating into something newer, something less damaged by the world, and he wonders if he's in a whole different body to the one he was in this morning—his heart is forever changed, that much he knows. Buck tries to ignore the tumorous black mass of pain in his chest as he tells Christopher about his dad, but it's the shiny-eyed hope of a kid that's been through too much that brings him to his knees because Eddie is okay, of course he's okay when he has Christopher to come home to, but he almost wasn't, and Buck doesn't know if he'll ever be okay again.

It's late when Christopher finally falls asleep, and Buck stands from his vigil by the wrong—but also maybe the right—bedside with numb legs, and he doesn't know if it's Eddie on a ventilator or the pins and needles that has him staggering towards the door. He grabs the stuff to make up the couch without a second thought and builds his bed with trembling hands as he tries not to think about the empty one down the hall. When it's done, he makes no move to lie down, just sits on the edge of the pull-out mattress and stares until tears prick at his eyes like a thousand microscopic needles.

Before he knows what he's doing, Buck is dialling a number more familiar to him than his own and bringing the phone up to his ear. It rings and rings and rings and clicks.

"You've reached Eddie Diaz, call me back or leave a message after the beep."

For a moment, Buck just breathes down the line, uncaring that Eddie will wake up in a few days and listen to the shaky wheeze of his exhales. He just needs a moment. The timbre of Eddie's voice so damn alive compared to the croak he'd had in the engine when he'd asked if Buck was hurt as he'd bled out.

(OR: five times buck uses random facts to tell eddie how he feels + the one time christopher does it for him)

@danielsousa @binickmiller @diazass @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @buddstiel @organizedstardust @theoneandonlypigeon @anatargmova @alyxmastershipper @buckley-diaz-rules @blazeturbo102 @panbuckley @slowlyfoggydestiny @thatnamewill-probably-change @compactdiscmp3 @batgrldes @scattered-winter @prince-buck-diaz @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy

#sami rambles #this is such a silly little thing bc ive been watching so many documentaries #also was convinced this was like 1.5k max and its fucking four #wrote it an just over two hours ????? how ??????#buddie #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic

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valeriianz · 6 months

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Mr. Gadling's Bodyguard | Dream x Hob | 6k | M

CW: gun violence, blood and injury, humor, action, brief mention of kidnap and torture, flirting, banter, enemies to lovers

for @levionok and their art here inspired by The Hitman's Bodyguard! and of course i wrote that kiss haha. thank you!

--------

“We’re done. You’re on your own!”

“Good!” Hob wheezes, gripping the railing and peering down, watching Dream all but run down the stairs. “I don’t need you! I’ve always been fine on my own!”

“You won’t last one hour without me!” Dream says loudly, losing all composure, all dignity. “You’ll be dead in a minute!”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re about as useful as a condom in a convent.”

That brings back the memory of early this morning, trapped in a van with a dozen nuns and Hob giddily riling Dream up, clapping and singing along in his ear.

“Eat my ass!” Dream shouts, echoing off the walls, cracked with emotion Dream has never heard his own voice make.

A bark of laughter shoots through the air, making Dream’s skin prickle, followed by a matter-of-factly:

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!”

Dream is so angry he can’t even fathom Hob’s inane response.

“Suck it!” Dream screams as he finally makes it to the bottom floor. He’s never shouted like this before. In and outside of work, he is known for his calm, composure, his poise and self-assuredness. The entire time he’s been with Hob, Dream has become more and more unhinged. His influence worming its way under Dream’s skin, his fortitude. Hob makes him fucking crazy and he… hates him. He hates Hob.

“How can I suck it if I’m busy eating your ass?!” Hob shouts. Dream feels heat explode all the way to his hairline. Suddenly realizing in his single-minded need to distance himself, how Hob’s usual quick, snappy retorts, sound a lot like… flirting.

Like crude, disturbing coquetry.

Of all the fucking ways to react to getting punched in the face—

Dream does not have the time or patience to think too hard about that.

“Fuck you!” Dream shouts, his voice pitched and his eyes prickling despite the ridiculousness of Hob’s back-talk. He finally pushes the double doors open into the very busy square.

[Ao3!]

#hob x dream #dreamling #the sandman #hitman's bodyguard au #this is pure self-indulgence #the pacing feels everywhere but i had a blast writing it #my writing

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keirawantstocry · 3 months

Note

If you're up for prompts I have a quick little idea.

Fit and/or pac realizing they like tubbo, or tubbo realizing he likes fit and pac. I just crave poly morning crew tbh..

I have never tried the poly from anyon other then tubbo’s pov so for you beloved mutual i will try

also it got away from me a little i didnt expect it to be this long LMAO

Fit knew he liked Pac. To be honest it took a really long time to come to terms with it but he knew. He knew he loved how strong the other man was, how capable yet kind. That damn smile that spread across his face like the sun rising across the horizon on an early morning. So yes it took a lot of getting used to, there was a lot to get over, a lot of fear left over from 2b2t, but he knew. He knew how he felt about his son. He loved his son and would die for him. It had taken him a while to warm up to him, attachments were hardwired in him to be a danger sign of weakness. He knew how he felt about nearly every single person on the island. What he wasn’t sure about was how he felt about Tubbo.

Every moment they spent together was fun, whether that be something chill like hanging out or something absolutely batshit like running full force at mobs to get into fights for no reason. Tubbo had energy. Infectious energy. During their time together, Fit felt that energy seep into his own body until he was just as energized. It was infectious and made him happy in a way that made him mad. He was frustratingly aware that his emotions about it didn’t make any sense. Finally after an incident where his frustration got the best of him and he nearly snapped at Tubbo, he caved and went to Phil.

“Hey Phil?” he called out as soon as he landed beside the waypoint.

There was Phil, kneeling in the soft dirt planting another flower that Tallulah had probably given to him. “What’s up mate?”

Fit plopped beside him heavily. “I’ve been… feeling a lot lately.”

“About Pac?” Phil asked with a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“No. About Tubbo actually.”

“Oh?” Phil asked, his eyebrows going up in surprise. He laid down his equipment, abandoning the flower for the time being to focus his attention on Fit. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve… been getting really frustrated lately? Not mad at him, just frustrated when he’s around? I feel like,” Fit tried to desperately rack his brain for an explanation. “He gets under my skin. That grin he does to Sunny when he first sees her. That laugh he does that turns into a wheeze as he struggles to breathe? It makes my chest hurt. I don’t. I just don’t fucking get it. I love him. Why am I so bothered by little things?”

Phil took a long moment to consider it while he brushed off his dirty hands on his pants. “Fit, can I be completely honest with you right now?”

“Of course.”

“Have you considered that he’s not getting under your skin in an upsetting way but that that’s the only way you know how to react?”

Fit blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

Phil sighed. “There’s different definitions of getting under your skin. They aren’t all negative.”

“I mean,” Fit laughed. “What else could it be?”

Fit felt like his entire world flipped on its head when a completely unexpected question escaped Phil’s lips. “Have you ever thought about kissing him?”

Stunned silence stretched between them. Fit’s mind was racing and his jaw agape. Now that was all he could think about. Gently kissing that wide smile, feeling it against his mouth. Being the one who received that smile in the morning. Being the one who caused that laugh the most, brought out that joy in him. “Holy shit,” he said softly.

Phil chuckled slightly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Holy shit!” Fit said again as his world fell back into place, as everything started to make a little bit more sense. “I have to find Tubbo.”

#poly morning crew #qsmp fitmc #fitbo #techincally lmao #my writing #thank you for your ideas #kissing you on the forehead

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so-sures-blog · 2 years

Text

Energybound

binding energy definition: in physics and chemistry, binding energy is the smallest amount of energy required to remove a particle from a system of particles or to disassemble a system of particles into individual parts.

In which Lloyd becomes Energy to save the world. As the Green Savior, he was always prophesied to die for it. The scrolls never mentioned anything about his friends.

💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨

The sun is just peaking over the horizon of the ocean when Lloyd makes his choice.

A restless night had passed, with the city drowning and Kalmaar sweeping through flooding to find the Ninja. With Jay’s condition worsening and Nya not leaving his side. With Benthomaar wracked with guilt over what his adopted brother had done and Kai, Cole, Zane, and P.I.X.A.L anxious to do something.

Lloyd had eavesdropped on Nya and Bentho talking about the Nyad, how she had merged with the sea and defeated Wojira. He knows what she is about to do.

He’s just doing it first.

Lloyd cracks open his eye from where he is pretending to be asleep, and slowly stands up. All of his friends are passed out from the emotional toll of the day— even Nya, who was fitfully sleeping besides Jay.

He moves quietly to not alert any of his friends and wake them up. Silently, he makes his way to the door, before looking back at his friends one last time. Jay was laying on the couch, gasping and wheezing in raspy intervals. Nya is next to him, shifting uncomfortably.

Bentho leans up against a filing cabinet next to the couch, arms crossed and head hanging. He was separated from the rest of his friends, and Lloyd wishes to see the day where Bentho is comfortable enough to lay next to them instead of dealing with everything himself.

Kai, Cole, Zane, P.I.X.A.L, and Master Wu are all passed out on the other side of the room, unconscious to the world and the thoughts swirling around Lloyd’s head.

Lloyd wishes they had more time. A few spare months of recuperating and relaxation isn’t enough between the life-threatening missions his team frequently goes on. He wants to stay with his friends.

He bites his tongue, the pain distracting him from his thoughts as he opens the door and then closes it, making his way to the roof.

💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨

Lloyd dangled his feet off the edge of the dock, eyes trained on the gleaming horizon. An unsettled feeling was shifting in his gut, and a single question rolled around in his mind.

Footsteps sounded towards him, and Lloyd turned to see his mother and uncle walking towards him.

“Lloyd, are you okay?” Misako asked.

Lloyd stood up, not taking his gaze away from the sinking sun. “I was just thinking… I know Ronin’s monster was a fake, but I guess I was wondering if Wojira is really still out there… somewhere.”

“If she is, may she sleep for another thousand years.” Wu prayed.

And at the bottom of the sea, the storm slept.

💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨

Lloyd walks towards the edge of the building, peering down at the dark water. It is black and bottomless, and Lloyd feels a surge of doubt before he shoves it away.

Lloyd may not be the Master of Water, but he is the Master of Energy. And as far as he knew, energy was everywhere. Nyad may have become one with the Sea, but she lost herself to the ocean and disappeared for thousands of years.

Lloyd couldn’t let that happen to Nya.

Lloyd was the Green Ninja, the savior of Ninjago. He was always destined to sacrifice himself for it, but nobody mentioned anything about his friends. Everything he had gone through— the Overlord and his father, Morro’s possession and Harumi— it all led up to this moment.

This is for his friends. Everything he had done was for his friends— every harsh blow from battle and hair ruffle in the morning. They had taken him in when he was a kid and gave him a home and a family. They had raised him, trained him, loved him even when he was being nothing but a bratty child who gave them problems.

Lloyd turns and stares back at the door where his family was sleeping, unaware.

Kai’s fiery courage, Nya’s fierce determination, Cole’s easy kindness, Jay’s bright intelligence, Zane’s gentle empathy, P.I.X.A.L’s snarking camaraderie, Benthomaar’s hesitant friendship, Wu’s aging wisdom, Misako’s sense of adventure.

His family.

Lloyd turns away, blinking back the sudden tears as green power lights his hands and he starts spinning.

💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨

“Bentho, how did Nyad defeat Wojira? In the story you told me?”

“… she became one with the sea.”

“But how exactly?”

“She opened herself up to the full power of the ocean. She merged with it.”

“…”

“Do not think of such things! Nyad may have defeated Wojira but she lost herself. What she did cannot be undone. She vanished.”

“…”

💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨

Lloyd opens his eyes, feeling light shining from the inside out as his green power spreads. Energy floods his body, feeling light and fleeting as Lloyd reaches down to the core of his power— and lets it loose.

Lloyd thinks of Cole and his Spinjitzu Burst, deep in the depths of Shintaro’s mountains. Unparalleled power had exploded from the earth and wrapped his brother in his element.

Lloyd can feel it happening too— but it's different. Green power is rushing around him, light blinding his vision, the particles on his skin transforming into pure energy.

Then—

BOOM!

A sonic sound wave explodes throughout the sky. The light tapers off. Lloyd opens his new eyes and looks down at his body. Green energy swirls around in the shape of his old body.

He feels light, powerful, new— Lloyd is filled with boundless energy, free to travel wherever he likes and too fleeting to ever catch.

Lloyd realizes he’s flying and spins around, laughing. The door to the rooftop suddenly slams open, and his family pours out— Kai and Wu in the lead as they stop and stare at their brother and nephew.

“Lloyd!” Kai calls. Jay and Nya join them, the former leaning on his girlfriend heavily as he stares at his little brother disbelievingly.

Lloyd frowns at how weak Jay looks. That can’t do— Jay will need to be at full strength when they beat Wojira. He flys down, ignoring the flinch of surprise from the others and presses a hand to Jay’s chest.

Green energy lights up, and suddenly Jay is able to breathe easier— like his lungs weren’t even damaged at all. Nya stares at Lloyd, looking pained for some reason.

Lloyd pulls away as Wojira roars her challenge, his power picking up in anticipation.

“Lloyd, wait!” Wu calls— but it's too late. With another BOOM! Lloyd takes off, flying at the speed of sound to confront Wojira once and for all.

It is time to finish what his grandfather couldn’t.

💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨

Nobody notices the crystal spider on the wall, violet eyes recording everything.

Clink… clink… clink…

The spider scurries back to its master.

💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨🐉 💚✨ “Spider’s in the house,

Sleep, sleep

Spider bit the mouse,

Sleep deep

Don’t wake up or else

You’ll find a spider in your m—”

The song breaks off, and the dark figure turns from the computer to see a crystal spider making its way towards her.

She kneels down, dark cape fluttering and kabuki mask flipped up as the mechanical spider crawls into her hand. She strokes it gently. “Did you find everything I need?” She asks.

The spider’s eye flashes, and then a holographic video is playing in the crystalized room. The bright screen contrasts the dark room, the purple and pink hues drowned out by the light images playing.

The Herald purses her lips, fingers tightening on the spider she is gripping unconsciously as the video finishes.

“I see,” Harumi says. She turns and stares at the giant crystal protruding in the middle of the Oni Temple. “This changes things.”

“Time to make some alterations to the previous plan.”

#ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago au #ninjago seabound #seabound au #ninjago crystalized #lloyd garmadon #nya smith #kai smith #jay walker #ninjago benthomaar #cole brookstone #zane julien #pixal borg #ninjago wu #ninjago misako #ninjago wojira #ninjago harumi

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